Page 19 of Enduring Caine

“But one of the men will take you on a tour of the ruins. I’d hoped to do it myself, but it appears I’ll be busy while I’m here.”

“Not Leonardo, I hope?”

“I specifically requested not.” He stood, stretching his neck from side to side, blinking slowly. He was so tired. “Do you think you can sleep now?”

“Hopefully.”

“Un momento,” he said and vanished into his room. He returned a few minutes later without his blanket around him, but with something in his hands. “Think fast.”

He threw a wadded up piece of fabric at me.

I caught it and held it up. It was his pajama shirt from the airline. I pulled it to my nose and inhaled, the comforting scent of him washing over me.

“You may be too stubborn to admit it, but I know you’re having nightmares. I also know when I speak to you in your sleep, they fade. Perhaps having that will help.”

“Just what every big girl needs. A security blankie.”

“Whatever works.” He shrugged. “And if it doesn’t, tomorrow we construct a bridge between our balconies.”

Chapter 9

Antonio

Atseventhirtythenext morning, Samantha and I were finishing breakfast in the bakery café I’d told her about. She’d deviated from the chocolate hazelnut cornetto she ate every morning in Italia and had indulged in one filled with cherries and mascarpone cheese. She savored her cappuccino while I sipped my espresso.

We’d originally joined Henri on the trip, but one of the other guards saw him to the market, while the miserable Leonardo hovered ten feet away from us. To the outside observer, it might seem Leo was there to protect us, as though there were some danger in this small town outside the estate. But those privy to what went on inside the walls knew it was the other way around. Samantha was an outsider—so was I, in some ways—and Giovanni was protecting his business by ensuring she didn’t speak to the wrong people or see things she should not.

I placed my small cup on the table and reached for her hand, bringing it to my lips. If I angled my seat properly, I couldn’t see the scowl from Leonardo. “This is more like what I’d planned.”

Samantha smiled, the most glorious smile she’d shared since I woke on the plane. “I feel like I’ve been missing out by only eating one flavor all these years.”

“Sì, you have. Perhaps we can come back tomorrow and we can try their lemon?”

“That sounds perfect.” She sat up straighter, eyes scanning the café, its bank of glassed-in pastries, the gelato counter. “I don’t suppose they have a bathroom?”

“I’m not sure.”

Leonardo approached the baked goods counter, where a woman with medium olive skin and bright blond hair was sliding a tray into the display—freshly made cannoli, dusted with powdered sugar. He whispered something to her and turned to us, hooking a thumb over his shoulder. “Back there.”

Samantha frowned at his curt words, but stood, gave me a peck on the cheek, and stepped around the end of the counter. On her way past the cash register, she nodded to the woman and said, “Grazie.”

Leonardo fell into step behind her.

Samantha paused. “What are you doing?”

“I have to check the room, then I’ll wait for you.”

Her eyes clamped shut and her jaw clenched. She took a deep breath to compose herself, then looked him square in the eyes. “It’s a bathroom. I don’t need an escort to a bathroom.”

“Giovanni’s rules,” he said as he pushed past her and disappeared through a doorway into the back. As the head of security, it was unlikely Leonardo was simply following anyone else’s rules. These were no doubt his and were aimed solely at pissing me off.

I’m going to kill him, she mouthed to me before following.

The dining section contained only four small tables. Outside, there were over twenty more, but it was far too cold and the sun’s early morning light barely made it over the hills to the east. The scent of baking breads and pastries was thick in the air. I stood and passed the gelato counter, continuing to the pastries.

The door to the café opened and closed behind me and the blond woman smiled briefly before returning to the back.

A tray of maritozzi, sweet buns sliced in half and filled with whipped cream, caught my attention. Then the biscotti next to them. I should buy some of those and bring them back for Samantha. She’d like that. That woman loved her Italian sweets.