Page 33 of Enduring Caine

“These are not for your eyes.” Giovanni flipped two sheets over. “We’ll head to the dining room soon.”

“I can recommend several changes to the kitchen and pantries—” Henri cut off at a glare from Giovanni.

Samantha straightened from inspecting the floor plans. “I’m actually tired and I think I’ll skip the meal.”

Henri’s brows rose in concern. “Would you like me to bring up a sandwich, some antipasti, or anything?”

“Not tonight, thanks. I still have a few items left over from the bakery this morning.” She yawned. “I don’t suppose we can go back for breakfast tomorrow? There were a few things I want to try.”

That could give us a chance to see Elliot, even if I didn’t get to warn her about it ahead of time. “I’d like that.”

Henri shook his head. “I’m not scheduled to go.”

“Johann,” I said, catching the guard’s attention. “Can you take Samantha and me to the bakery tomorrow?”

He looked at Giovanni, who nodded. “As long as I can get one of those apple cakes?”

“We can arrange that.” Samantha chuckled, then gave me a peck on the cheek. “Knock on my door when you come up, so I can say good night if I’m still up?”

I returned the kiss and nodded.

Johann escorted her out, and Henri followed them.

I let out a sigh. “Why is she being monitored so closely, Zio? What could she possibly do between here and her room that’s such a problem?”

“What I told you earlier about our family’s legacy and expanding is only part of the story. I—” Giovanni leaned on the carom table and let his head fall forward. “I don’t want to help spoil our cultural heritage anymore. I want to bring things back home and make up for the sins of my past.”

This was the reason he didn’t want Samantha here. He didn’t want her to hear the truth behind it all.

I said, “Cristian told me you’d been ill and it changed your perspective?”

His head rose, and he frowned slightly. “It did. Between that and how Cesca’s love of art is developing, I can’t do anything else. I want this—” He tapped the plans. “—to be her sixteenth birthday present in two years. Up and running.”

“How does this lead back to a guard tailing Samantha everywhere?”

“It’s a slow and treacherous path to get out of my business. Some of my competitors rejoice, some fear I’m putting them at risk.”

Cristian flipped the plans back over so we could see them. “Dead men tell no tales.”

Leo scoffed, raising fingers as he neared us. “Your girlfriend identified a stolen painting at an auction in your hometown last summer. Then, she tracks down the thieves who stole items from your workplace in Pompeii. Finally, she’s the target of several shootings and is responsible for a smuggler being locked up only last week.”

Cristian had known about the auction painting, a man in their employ was involved with the Pompeii theft, and I’d called Cristian about the shootings. How did they know about the recovered paintings? My cousin always said he knew things, but that was between Samantha and the FBI.

Leo continued, “All four events had two things in common. One, your girlfriend, who seems very adept at interfering with the free movement of artwork. And two, the same man was behind each of them.”

I gasped. “Pasquale Fiori?”

Fiori had been a kind man who picked Samantha and me up after she’d been hurt on a hike in Napoli. He took us to his boat in Capri, had his doctor look after Samantha, and then his helicopter delivered us to the mainland. Afterward, we discovered he was behind the theft from my worksite in Pompeii, a fresco of yellow flowers and a tiny matching pot containing an ancient pigment.

Last week, Cristian had told us Parker Johnson—one of the men who tried to kill us and whose smuggling of three stolen paintings we’d intercepted—was under consideration by an old associate of Zio Gio.

It all made sense. Fiori, for how helpful he’d been, was behind everything.

Cristian moved to my side and rested a hand on my shoulder. “Leo and I insisted on the increase in security after Papa’s illness. It came on after a special dessert was prepared for him one night. No proof that it was intentional, but we took care of the chef and made some security changes.”

Took care of? What were the odds that chef continued to breathe? “And you suspect Fiori is behind that as well?”

“Can we trust your girlfriend?” Cristian raised a hand before I could respond. “I know what your answer is. But even if we can trust her, what if Fiori finds out she’s here and decides it’s a perfect opportunity to silence both her and Papa at the same time?”