Page 83 of Chasing Caine

He leaned back in his chair, a smile creeping up his face. “Does she live here now?”

Hefting the bag onto my shoulder, I did my best to remain calm. This line of questioning was not about to go in a positive direction. “No, she lives in the States.”

“But she’s still here?”

“She’s leaving Wednesday.”

“You left so quickly with her last week, I didn’t have a chance to ask for her contact information. I don’t suppose you have her number or email, do you?”

“If you were thinking about asking her out, don’t bother.”

He laughed as he shuffled his papers and threw them into his bag. “You tried, too, didn’t you? She’s still a tough nut to crack, isn’t she?”

“Still?”

“She and I spent quite a bit of time together when she worked in London. I took her to the museums and galleries over and over, out sailing a few times, and even to a few plays. She’s a big fan of Shakespeare. Did you know that?”

He shook his head as I calculated the fallout of punching him. The Board would cancel the contract, no doubt. Never welcome me back. My father would be displeased. Samantha would find out and be furious with me. Not a good way to finish her visit.

He chuckled as he pulled his bag onto his shoulder. “But in London she was so excited about everything, talking a mile a minute, asking an unending series of questions. Her brain was constantly buzzing, leaving no room for anything else.”

“Samantha? Talking a mile a minute?”

Thomas and I walked out together, into the sunshine and stifling heat. The crowds were as thick as the air, typical for a weekday morning. There was a never-ending stream of people coming to see the glory of Pompeii.

“As long as she wasn’t speaking about herself. Always. A vibrating energy pulsed off that woman at all times. It was intoxicating.”

That was the Samantha from the auction, from the Chagall investigation, from our tour of the archaeological site and the museums during her visit. Thomas didn’t know the quiet side of her. The side which required an understanding of what each pause and flick of her eyes meant. The side I knew.

But that had also been Samantha before her mother’s death, before her divorce. Before she’d sworn to spend her life on the road with as few connections as possible.

“So, I hate to nag, but do you have her phone number?”

“She’s seeing someone.”

“A smart man would have a ring on her finger by now.” He nudged me with a grin. “Before someone like one of us can snatch her away. A man who can engage a brain like that.” A low, guttural noise erupted from his throat, which I considered closing off for him. “Not to mention that body, am I right?”

My chest tightened, and I shoved my hands into my pockets to ball them into fists. Men like this were the problem with relationships. Men who didn’t respect boundaries and loyalty. I unintentionally growled, “A smart man will have a ring on her finger soon enough.”

As soon as she would agree to it. If only she were not so stubborn and afraid of commitment. I knew how she felt deep inside. Marone, what would happen when she went home? Nathan Miller would just be the start of it. Then there were men like Thomas Grange and Dr. Ivan Hayle. At least they were half a world away. If only I were not.

I could not lose that woman again.

We took off our staff identification as we left through the main gate, heading for the train.

“Alright, Dr. Ferraro, I tried to do this the easy way.” He stopped, narrowing his eyes. “Are you dating her?”

She wanted to keep it quiet around my office, but she was leaving in two days. What did it matter if he knew? “Sì, I am.”

“Ha! I was right!” He laughed and clapped his hands. “Bianca owes me twenty euros!”

“Scusi?”

He leaned in, winking. “It would have been forty if I didn’t have to ask you outright.”

It was a bet. Was anything he said true? He’d been flirting with her at the office last week. Had he not? Or was I overreacting to everything?

“Antonio, I don’t know you well yet, but what I’ve seen and heard has impressed me. I’m happy to hear she’s found someone worthy of her.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Is she working as a security consultant? It sounds perfect for her.”