Page 5 of Chasing Caine
And not a single one provided the same rush as being with Antonio. None of them made me want to slow down and stop running for more than a few days.
But if I was completely honest with myself, what I really wanted, deep down inside, was to have both.
Chapter 3
Antonio
Thebaresthintofchocolate danced over my tongue from the espresso. Coffee was always better at Mario’s villa than anywhere else on the planet. Even at my condo, I hadn’t come close this perfection.
It was Saturday morning—one week after my fight with Samantha.
I sat at the bistro table on the patio outside Mario’s kitchen. Shadows danced around me as the sun fought with the grape vines covering the pergola. My head ached from the night before, having drank too much and stayed out too late. I flipped mindlessly from app to app on my phone.
As threatened, Mario had introduced me to several beautiful women at La Fiamma. But they all lacked something.
They were not Samantha.
A text popped up from my sister.Papa was so proud! Fix it, stupid!
A second message appeared with a link to YouTube.
“Good morning,” came a cheery, distinctly feminine and English voice from the kitchen. I peered in through the open patio doors to see a woman in a short dress. Her red hair hung limp and she wore no makeup, looking rather washed out.
I gestured vaguely, no idea what her name was.
“Where’s the… Nevermind, I found it!”
Most of me wanted to ignore Sofia’s text, but it also piqued my curiosity. I tapped the link. The video was dated two days ago and its title read, ‘FBI Press Conference: Public’s help wanted in Lansing murder.’ What was this?
The Brenton Police Chief introduced the press conference from a lectern, then handed it off to a tall Black woman with buzz-cut hair in a police uniform. Behind them, a blue curtain hung with the Brenton Police Department emblem and a large-screen television.
Officer Janelle Williams said, “Good morning. We are here to provide an update on the death of Robert Scott, who died in a fire at his residence on—”
The camera pulled back to show a line of people behind the officer, including… Samantha? I skipped ahead and ahead and ahead. What was Papa proud of? What was Samantha doing in the press conference?
The strange woman from the kitchen eased into a seat at the table with me, sighing as she took her first sip from the cup she’d poured for herself. “Antonio, right?”
Continuing to skip the video forward, I nodded absently to the woman, watching as the officer was replaced by a man with dark brown skin in a black suit. FBI Special Agent Elliot Skinner. I continued skipping forward while he spoke and images flashed on the television behind him. But when he looked to Samantha, who stepped out of the line and to the front, I slowed to regular speed.
She scanned the crowd, that same squared posture and blush on her cheeks as the day in college I first spoke to her. “There was a particular painting that suffered serious damage in the fire covered by Foster Mutual. Through close work with the team from Ferraro’s Fine Art Restoration and Conservation, we were able to identify that the painting was a forgery. The trail of evidence brought us to the eventual discovery of the arson. I can’t say more than that, as it’s an ongoing investigation. Direct any further questions to Special Agent Skinner or Officer Williams.”
She gave a tight smile, the FBI agent nodded back at her, and she resumed her spot in the line behind him.
Next to Nathan Miller.
My hand gravitated toward my discolored cheek, to where Miller had punched me last Saturday night, before he whisked Samantha away from me.
He touched her back and leaned close, whispering something to her.
I shut the video off and dropped the phone to the table.
“That the one you were talking about all night?” asked the woman next to me, gesturing at my phone.
“Who are you?” I snapped, more irritated with seeing Nathan Miller touch Samantha than anything else.
“Bellissima!” called Mario from the kitchen. “There you are! Why did you leave the bed?”
“Needed coffee.” She held up her cup. Of course. The woman Mario brought home from the club.