The Rome Affair

by Addison Fox

  So who had identified the two of them as targets?

  She replayed her conversation with the ambassador the day before. He’d mentioned her father and her picture when she was small. He’d also spoke of pride about his accomplishments, of how he hoped to raise the global profile of his home country and of his love of wine-making.

  Over and over, no matter how she sliced it, she struggled with the image of the ambassador as a criminal mastermind running drugs and diamonds, all the while ordering a hit on Jack and her.

  She didn’t doubt his ability to be ruthless, but something rang false every time she attempted to tie him to their investigation.

  As if he read her tumultuous thoughts, Jack shifted, pulling her closer. She snuggled into his warmth, the heat from his body branding her with its intensity. Despite the very real desire to go back to sleep, the combination of warm male and her thoughts on the ambassador had her mind shooting from topic to topic, clearly finished with sleep.

  When her thoughts landed on her clothing situation—and what could her hair possibly look like at this point?—she struggled to hold back a groan. She’d had the foresight to remove her boots when they’d come in, but the rest of her was fully clothed in her outfit from the ambassador’s.

  Nice one, Steele. Walk of shame clothes and you didn’t even get to do the deed.

  Not as if they could have. She pictured the two of them the night before—ragtag and falling asleep on their feet—and knew whatever was to come between them would have to wait.

  “You awake?” Jack’s voice was thick with sleep and his arm tightened around her shoulders before pulling her close. “What time is it?”

  “I’m guessing about eight or nine.”

  He stilled his movements, his gaze shooting up to hers. “What?”

  “Yeah, we probably overslept, but I can’t seem to get myself motivated to get out of bed at the moment. The ambassador will have to wait.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  When he continued to stare at her, she could only wonder if he needed another round of pain meds, despite his protest the night before to avoid the stronger stuff the doctor had given. “What’s the matter? Does your arm hurt?”

  “Is it really eight o’clock?”

  She twisted in his arms to take in the small bedside clock. “Eight forty-two to be exact.”

  “You know what this means?”

  She turned back to snuggle once more. “We’re late. And I’m a bad, bad employee for not feeling any remorse about that fact.”

  “Kensington. It means you slept through the night.”

  The lazy haze that tantalized her with sleep vanished as she sat up. Her mind flew through the evening’s events and all the evenings that had come before. No matter how tired she ever was, her ability to sleep vanished somewhere around three or four in the morning.

  Yet here they were.

  She shook her head, trying to dislodge the rising thought that she’d just slept through the night for the first time since she was fourteen. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Did you take the same stuff I did?”

  “No.”

  “And I know you refused the tranquilizers.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “So this was all you, baby.”

  Tears clogged the back of her throat at the endearment, the moment filled with so much unsaid she was afraid to shatter it. But even as she resisted, she couldn’t hold back the words. “No, Jack. It was you. You gave me that.”

  She leaned back over him and pressed her lips to his. Every kiss they’d shared before had been full of subtle power and the shifting sands of trying to figure the other out, but this kiss was different.

  This kiss was filled with promise. With light. And with joy.

  One tender moment spun into the next, fragile threads that forged the strongest bond.

  And somewhere, deep down inside, in a place she wasn’t quite ready to examine yet, Kensington knew she loved.

  * * *

  Holden rattled the pages of his newspaper and made a show of reading it while his father preened over several of his guests. The damn house party had stretched on interminably and he was glad every one of these foolish asses would be gone within the next few hours. Their gazes had grown too sharp and he knew several were whispering of the gossip that had gripped the village last night.

  Two of the party’s guests had been shot at.

  Damn fool Nicky.

  Did he have to give the man a detailed plan? Yes, he wanted him to shoot at Andrews and Steele. And yes, he wanted him to hit Andrews. But he sure as hell didn’t want Nicky to get into close enough range that he barely escaped unidentified.

  Imbecile.

  He’d been crystal clear about his plans since he’d started down this path two years ago—get close to his father, gain his trust and use that to set up his future. He’d had enough of playing local kingpin in Tierra Kimber. He wanted more and he was in a position to have it.

  The diamond mines in his home country were incredibly productive, a new vein discovered just a few months back. The rich deposits were putting Tierra Kimber on the map in more ways than one and he had every intention of using that to set himself up.

  Assuming his relations with the locals didn’t ruin him first. The reports had been sketchy and he avoided showing too much interest beyond the ambassador’s safety, but if the retelling of the previous evening was true, Nicky had barely escaped detection.

  Of course, Andrews was cagier than he’d initially given the man credit for, Holden readily acknowledged, but none of it changed the fact that Nicky was utterly useless.

  The urge to take care of that problem as he’d handled the others was strong, but again, he forced himself to relax. A rampage through the village, killing yet another low-level employee, would hardly meet his carefully prepared ends. Nor would he escape detection forever if he didn’t show some restraint. He’d made his bones functioning as a shadowy figure in the background, manipulating situations for his own benefit.

  Drawing too much attention to himself wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

  And much as it would please him to take out every one of these stupid locals he was forced to deal with, he had to admit they served a purpose.

  They were his eyes and ears and they’d also begun to associate him with a rising prosperity in their criminal activity. With that association, his actions had begun to take on grander importance that worked to his advantage.

  He made it a point to oversee the specifics of the shipments—especially the monthly shipments that contained the diamonds—and he also traveled in his role as chief of staff. He hated rusticating in the country and simply tallied his days here as part of his personal investment in his future. And the truth was, he needed people here in the village. Although he didn’t trust them, he did trust he’d put enough fear into all of them that they’d do as he asked.

  Oh, yes. His efforts over the past eighteen months were finally beginning to pay dividends. And even his more tedious activities—this weekend as an example—had begun to bear fruit.

  The conversation at the table shifted once more, and his father’s guests grew more heated in their speculations of what was going on in the village.

  Rising crime. Poverty. Degenerates who drank too much of the wine that was in ready abundance. Thought after thought was offered up with no understanding of what was truly happening. Oh, their sharp gazes and worried frowns implied a sense of vigilance, but the houseguests of Castello di Carte had become surprisingly lax about their personal belongings, thinking themselves above the danger.

  Holden fought the small smile that wanted to break out, taunting them all. He’d already procured for himself copies of several office keys, a few computer log-ins and the calendar of when a rather promi
nent telecommunications owner would be out of the country.

  A good businessman took every opportunity afforded him and Holden knew he was the best.

  “Mr. Keene.” The light, tinny voice penetrated his newspaper and Holden lowered the paper to greet the old biddy who ran one of the major wineries in the region. The contessa was a local legend, both for her imagined sense of royalty and her very real power as a major player in wine.

  Whereas most of the local producers managed the endless supply of table wine that filled Italy, the contessa had managed to create an international business, a well-known label and one of the most in-demand Chiantis in the world.

  And his father kissed the woman’s ass as if she were turning that damn wine from water instead of growing it like everyone else.

  Holden lowered his paper and fought the light shudder that ran down his spine at her razor-sharp gaze. “Yes, my lady?”

  “We were discussing the incident in the village last night. Is there any mention of it in your paper?”

  He shook his head, even as he knew the question was a tactic to engage him in the discussion. “This is a European financial daily. While exciting news for us, they’re not interested in the drama in a small Italian village.”

  “Perhaps they will be when the broader implications of what is taking place here gets out.”

  The contessa’s words beat against him like a hailstorm and he fought to right himself against the deluge. “I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “No? You manage the ambassador’s schedule with an iron fist. Surely you’re aware of the security measures in place for his visits here.”

  “I am well aware, ma’am.”

  “Then you know as well as I do the situation here in our quaint little countryside is anything but normal. To think, people getting shot at in the village. And this on the heels of Signor DeAngelo.” She shook her head and added several tsks for good measure. “It is shameful.”

  “It is a sorry state of affairs. These locals here, clearly there is some nonsense brewing between them all. It doesn’t concern us or the ambassador.” He shot his father a meaningful glance, pleased when the old man took the hint.

  “Mr. Keene is right, my dear. These things do not concern us.”

  Indignation flashed in the woman’s eyes and, with it, a knowing air that sent another shiver racing down his spine. “I run a business in this region. Of course it concerns me.”

  “And for that you have my sympathies. But the ambassador must focus on his own challenges. We maintain security here at the vineyard and I suggest you do the same. Minimize your role in the local politics.”

  “Fascinating position for someone whose interests clearly lie here in my country.”

  His father coughed and Holden didn’t miss the implacable order to change the subject, but he wasn’t quite ready to let the matter go. The pompous, self-aggrandizing biddy had been under his skin all weekend and he was done placating her. “Your country, yes. Not this region you call home. Castello di Carte is the ambassador’s place to relax. To enjoy the fruits of his labor. Surely you’re not suggesting that change.”

  His father jumped in, the peacekeeper as always. “I think you misunderstand the contessa, Holden.”

  “That, sir, is a matter of perspective. However, I think perhaps I should excuse myself to deal with your guests’ departures.”

  He stood, carefully folding his paper before dropping it to the table. He had no idea why the contessa had engaged him in conversation, but because the haughty woman had looked down her nose at him the entire weekend, he had no doubt she had some motive for the discussion.

  To make a point in front of her fellow guests? Or was it something deeper?

  She did have connections in the region and she surely knew the major players—both good and bad—who operated here. Did she have suspicions about him?

  Or had someone talked?

  The questions in his mind vanished as his phone began to buzz. The motion sensor he’d placed in his father’s office had been triggered and he used the “call” as a chance to excuse himself and the overbearing glances of the contessa.

  Servants blocked his way as he barreled down the back hall toward the office. Between the upcoming departures and the large number of people all eating breakfast, he nearly collided with two rolling pieces of luggage and a woman bearing a tray overladen with serving dishes. She let out a shriek as she struggled to hold on to her cargo and he just missed knocking her against the wall.

  Damn incompetents.

  Again, the thought filled him of how useless these people were. They spent their days serving others, seeing to their happiness.

  What a waste.

  Holden came upon his father’s office door and waited just outside. The door was open and he hesitated a moment to catch his breath. Andrews would be on the other side of the door. He’d bet the next shipment on it.

  Already envisioning the exchange, Holden came to a hard stop when he saw Kensington Steele on the other side of the room on her hands and knees before the heavy globe his father kept in his office.

  “Excuse me?”

  She glanced up but stayed in position on the floor. “I’ve lost something. I think it’s under here.”

  “This is the second time I’ve found you in the ambassador’s private office. What part of private have you missed?”

  A small smile hovered around her face and she tossed her hair back as she sat up on her haunches and gestured toward her ear. “I’ll spare you a long, detailed apology about how embarrassed I am for the other night, even though I’m mortified. I lost an earring and this is the only place I can think to look for it.”

  “Returning to the scene of the crime?” He stalked toward her, curious when she never moved from her subservient position on the floor.

  “I’ve looked everywhere else. I’d normally not care so much but they were my mother’s.”

  “Perhaps you should have thought about that before you and Mr. Andrews slipped in here the other night.”

  “I know.” Her eyes dropped to the floor and, once again, he questioned her complete change of heart. Every time he’d seen her throughout the weekend, her posture and attitude had dripped with authority and a barely veiled haughtiness she couldn’t remove from those vivid blue eyes.

  Yet here she was, prowling around on the floor like a humble servant. “Did you find it?”

  “I thought I felt something just before you came in.”

  He moved closer, satisfied when the first notes of alarm darkened those guileless eyes. “By all means, then, don’t keep me in suspense.”

  She bent farther, her arm snaking underneath the heavy base of his father’s globe. His gaze flicked over her luscious form and the well-sculpted derrière that rose into the air. Perhaps he’d been too dismissive of her...

  “Got it!”

  She crawled backward, dragging her hand from underneath the pedestal. His thoughts drifted from her exquisite form to the exceedingly strange coincidence that she’d have lost an earring under the one place he stored anything sensitive in the château.

  “I’m sorry to have intruded in the ambassador’s private rooms.” She got to her full height, that wariness still evident in her gaze. “I’ll excuse myself now.”

  He moved into her space and inhaled her scent. The lightest sheen of perspiration was visible along her hairline and he reveled in her discomfort. “I hope you got what you came for.”

  She lifted the earring. “I most certainly did.”

  “Have a safe trip back to Rome. I understand from the lieutenant you and Mr. Andrews will be supporting the ambassador at this week’s event at the Palazzo Altemps.”

  “We’ll be there.”

  He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “I look forward
to seeing you then, Miss Steele.”

  Her steps across the office held the decided notes of urgency and he stood in place several moments after she’d left. He didn’t think she’d return, but no use taking any chances.

  Just like the other night.

  He was right to have removed everything from the small drawer at the base of the globe after discovering Steele and Andrews the other night. He wasn’t a believer in coincidence.

  Nor did he believe—not for a minute—that Kensington Steele had lost an earring.

  Chapter 15

  Jack took his first easy breath as Kensington maneuvered the sports car back into the city. They’d spent the past two hours going over and over the details of her exchange with Holden Keene in the ambassador’s private office and he had only grown more uneasy with each passing kilometer.

  The bastard had threatened her.

  Oh, it was subtle, by Kensington’s telling, but it was there all the same. “He whispered in your ear.”

  “Jack, I’ve told you already. Holden just creeped me out. I’m fine.”

  “Let’s walk through it one more time.” The bastard had scared her, that much was true. She’d played it cool, but he’d heard every word through his earpiece and he hadn’t missed the wide-eyed stare that filled her face when she returned to the common area of the château after casing Pryce’s office. Nor did he miss the tense set of her shoulders, which didn’t relax until they were well away from Tuscany.

  “I’ve already taken you through this. Look. When we get to the hotel in Rome I’ll spend some time digging into Keene’s background and we’ll take it from there. I’d also like to talk to Marco again if he’s up for it and see if Keene’s ever tripped his trigger.”

  Marco was a good idea and further proof she was thinking much more clearly than he was. “Take me through it again. Maybe you missed something.”

  “Damn, you’re bossy. Is this some sort of lingering male frustration because I told you I’d drive so you could rest your arm?”

  “This is good old-fashioned male frustration because he threatened you.”