Page 90 of Chasing Caine
He squeezed my waist as I shook my head at the silly words. It had been a large glass of wine.
“And here I want to show you off to the world.” He kissed my temple. “It would seem we’re at odds tonight.”
“I suppose we’ll have to just stick with momentum and keep moving forward.”
“Onward and upward, amore.”
The sidewalk widened to accommodate a low hedge along the front of a hotel. Concrete steps led up to automatic glass doors, which opened as we approached. A stunning Black woman with warm brown skin and natural hair piled atop her head like a mohawk strode out. She wore a short one-piece in coral, nose ring, and five earrings on one side.
Antonio’s step stuttered.
“Antonio!” Her full lips—painted the same eye-catching color as her jumpsuit—spread into a broad smile. She floated down the hotel steps on her platform heels, standing as tall as me once she was on the sidewalk. Six inches taller with the hair. They exchanged kisses at each cheek, the second one lingering longer than it should have.
Antonio gestured to her. “Samantha, this is Océane Monet. She’s—”
I finished for him, offering my hand in greeting. “The microbiology PhD candidate.”
“I’ve never been summarized quite so succinctly.” Her eyes traversed my body slowly, a sly smile emerging. “And you are?”
“Samantha Caine.” He stroked my waist with his thumb. “My girlfriend. She’s visiting during our delay.”
“Lucky man.” She spoke English with a thick French accent. Antonio had told me about her, the last member of his conservation team. She was from Paris, but was pursuing her PhD in the States at MIT. This woman was a far cry from what I’d expected based on her dissertation about the reproduction of various bacterial strains. She looked more like a runway model than a microbiologist. “And what do you do, Samantha, to have snagged our Dr. Ferraro?”
Antonio chuckled. “I would love to explain, but the story is rather long and she would say it’s boring.”
Océane merely hummed in response. Something betweenI seeandOh, really?or maybe evenThat was avoiding the question.
“Where have you been the last week?” I asked. We knew Umberto removed the wall painting. But that didn’t mean he was the one shipping it from Naples, selling it, or whatever was happening.
His arm around my waist tightened.Stop that, his squeeze communicated.
“I went to Rome for a few days. I’d never been. Thought about heading further north, but there was too much to see.”
Ignoring Antonio’s warning, I pressed. “Did you hear about Umberto?”
“No.” She folded her arms, an armband tattoo peeking out from under the short sleeve of her outfit. “Did his girlfriend tire of him and head back home?”
Strange answer. “Sorry?”
“Have you met her? She’s a talented artist and he’s…” She unfolded her arms only long enough to scratch her brow with one immaculate purple fingernail, looking at Antonio as she replied. “I trust your decision to hire him. My issue is strictly personal.”
“How do you know his girlfriend?”
Océane returned her focus to me. “He brought her to Pompeii for a meet-and-greet once we all arrived. Two women new to the city discussing our reasons for being here, and we hit it off. We went for coffee and she complained about him incessantly.”
Eva seemed worried about Umberto when we spoke to her. That didn’t match up with someone who disliked her boyfriend. “Complained about what?”
“His disrespect of her art, his lack of desire for children, his lack of romance… and his obsession with Dr. Ferraro.” She scanned Antonio this time, a small rumble in her throat. “Although who can blame him for that?”
“Not an obsession.” Antonio’s hand slid down to my hip and back up. “Just sucking up to the boss.”
“Peut être.” She shrugged one shoulder, as if to say hermaybewas ano, I’m right. “Either way, I told her to dump his ass and join me in Rome. But she said she had more important things going on here.”
“Did she say what?” I asked.
Her eyes flicked down my body again. “You’re a curious little bird. Do you always ask so many questions?”
Antonio chuckled, like he thought our conversation was cute.