Page 85 of Chasing Caine

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Page 85 of Chasing Caine

“She’s not your concern.”

“Stupido! Are you blind?” His fist tapped against the wall, his face tight. “The TPC are on this case. That gives them an in with you, which means an in with my father. I hear there’s also an FBI Art Crimes agent in town. Is that your girlfriend?”

“She’s an insurance adjuster and trust me, she didn’t instigate my relationship with her. She’s not using me to get to you.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I questioned them. Samantha had worked very hard to keep me at arm’s length. But what about her sudden change of heart? What about her flying all the way here? And winding up on my doorstep when her FBI mentor was in Italia?

Surely not. That was ridiculous.

I was disgusted the thought even passed through my brain.

“Cugino, keep an eye on her. I swear, keep both eyes open at all times. This is the long game. They may try you again while you’re here or once you’re back in the States.”

“Try me? How?”

“I’ve no idea. Steal from you, enlist you, get information from you. Just watch your back.” He looked up at me again. “I’ll find out what I can about the theft here. If I learn anything, I’ll let you know.”

“Am I in danger?”

He grimaced, shaking his head. “I’m not sure, but I doubt it. You haven’t worked with us in a long time.”

“You think—”

He held out his arms, signaling the conversation was over.

I hugged him. “Thank you, Cristian. I’ll call if anything suspicious happens.”

“And you’ll eventually visit?” He clasped me by the forearms as he broke the embrace, the public smile back in place.

“I will, but I need to make up the lost time here first. I’ll be in touch.”

He kissed my cheeks and left, his men moving with him. I ran a hand through my hair, releasing a long exhale. The next four months were going to be even longer than I’d expected.

Chapter 28

Samantha

Theviewfromtheterrace on Mario’s roof was awe-inspiring. Situated atop a hill, it had a full panorama of Naples, Vesuvius, the bay, peninsula, and the islands. As wonderful as the view was, I was still stuck. Plopped on a lounge chair, resting my left leg.

So here I sat, alone with my ice pack. Antonio had headed to Pompeii without me for some interviews.Relax,he’d said with a grin, knowing I was terrible at it.We need that leg at full strength.

The patio umbrella shaded me from the intense Mediterranean sun, while the light, salty breeze from the bay cooled my barely clad body. The little white bikini didn’t cover much. I stretched out in the lounge chair, intentionally not checking the clock on my phone.

The thick copy ofResearch and Discoveries in Pompeiiwasn’t enough to hold my interest. It was time to move.

I tapped my phone on the small table next to me. Antonio would be back in two hours. Visions of how we’d spend the afternoon and evening together clouded my senses. I closed my eyes and sighed, fingers running across my chest, remembering his soft touch, his lips.

“Samantha!” Mario crested the top of the steps to the rooftop terrace. Carrying two glasses of yellow liquid, he raised one in my direction. He wore nothing more than low-slung shorts, showcasing a body almost as perfectly sculpted as Antonio’s.

And I was practically naked in the bikini. I’d worn a beach cover-up on my way out and it was within reach. That would be conspicuous, not to mention rude. And his eyes were staying on my face. I was overreacting. But the hairs on my neck told me I wasn’t. I rested the open book on my chest, covering up part of me, at least.

“Would you like some limoncello, bellissima?” Lemons again. It was a large, very full glass.

“No, thanks. It’s a bit early for alcohol.”

“Perfetto! Because I brought you lemonade!” He grinned and sat on the edge of my lounge chair, reaching over me to place the glass on the small table by my phone. His hand landed on the far side of the chair, so he bracketed my legs.

“Mario—” I moved the book so it covered more of my breasts and inched up the chair. “You’re obsessed with lemons.”

He waved a dismissive hand, just like Antonio did all the time. “My family grows them. We’re farmers, you know.”




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