Page 114 of Chasing Caine

“Did you—”

He held up a hand, then slung his messenger bag across his chest. “I’m not sure how much I’m supposed to tell you but based on the favors you were able to call in over this, I expect quite a bit. You understand my words go no further than this moment?”

I nodded slowly. “Sì.”

“The man who came after your girlfriend is Eva’s brother.” He tilted his head toward me and raised a hand to cover his mouth. “Fiori wanted the flower fresco and one yellow pigment pot.”

I sucked in a breath. Samantha was right about the connection between the yellow flowers and Fiori’sFive Sunflowersyacht.

“We had some dealings with Eva in Rome earlier this year—”

The stolen painting at Uncle Andrea’s studio?

“—so when we heard her boyfriend was working with you, we reached out. But Umberto got greedy. Took three pots but we only accepted two of them. The blue one ended up in the Carabinieri TPC’s hands in Rome, along with our courier. The pink pigment is in their apartment.” He tightened his grip on his messenger bag’s strap, moving it slightly in my direction. “The fresco and the yellow pigment won’t be seen again except in Fiori’s private collection. If you value your girlfriend’s life the way I think you do, you won’t pursue it.”

“I understand.” But I didn’t like it, knowing that I couldn’t share any of this with Samantha. The secrets between us were supposed to be decreasing, but this was not up for discussion.

“Tell your cousin I won’t be in touch for at least two months after this. It’s brought too much attention to me.” He flicked the hand away from his mouth like a wave and strolled off through the piazza before I could get in another word, disappearing into the crowd as much as a six-foot-three muscle-bound man could.

Samantha’s savior was Cristian’s employee? Working on Pasquale’s yacht? Was Fiori in business with my Uncle Giovanni? Or was this some sort of undercover role? He provided answers, but so many more questions.

Was he right about Umberto and Eva—and her brother?—contracting for Pasquale Fiori? Was this the threat to my family Cristian had spoken of?

My head hurt. Feet hurt. And my heart ached.

I made my way to the nearest street and found a cab to take me to the hospital. Samantha would be fine. They would stitch her forehead, likely order her to use crutches again, and I’d watch her for the night to be sure there were no signs of further injury.

And we would have at least one morning together without the mystery of the missing fresco and pigment pots hanging over our heads.

Chapter 37

Antonio

Thenextday,Icarried Samantha up the stairs at Mario’s villa, careful of her head and ankle. The elevator would have been easier, but it was not wide enough to be certain I wouldn’t jostle her against either side.

“I can walk,” she huffed, as though it were some great hardship. “I was walking yesterday.”

“And then someone nearly killed you.” We crested the third floor and continued to my room. “I saw you wavering when you stood up at the hospital. You’re not winning this battle today.”

They’d kept her overnight for observation because of the head injury and I slept in the chair next to her. Mario had brought us clean clothes—white T-shirt with navy shorts for her, pink striped shirt with black pants for me.

And today, she was not leaving my sight.

“I have to pack. My flight leaves in a few hours.”

I nudged the door open with a foot and brushed my back against the frame to ensure she had the bulk of the space. “You’re leaving tomorrow. We’ll call the airline.”

“I have to get home for Cass’s chemo. This isn’t up for debate.”

Once I’d set her down on the bed, she twisted as though to get onto her hands and knees and crawl off.

“Samantha, stop right there.”

“I’m serious.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, putting out a hand to stop her. “When’s her treatment?”

She rolled her eyes and sat back. “You know exactly when it is. Friday morning at ten.”