Page 59 of Enduring Caine
Could they be informants?
Or wait—Johann had a sick sister. Needed money. Could he be a spy for a competitor who used that as leverage?
Johann turned to smile at me. “I ordered some special bottles of wine as a thank you to Henri. The delivery company said they’d be coming today.”
Wine? If that was all it was, why the whisper?
The bodyguard returned to my side and leaned closer to keep his voice low. “Leonardo complains about French wine all the time, but you should hear him rage over American wine.”
Henri, still facing away from me, said, “Johann has an exceptional palate and tastes similar to mine.”
I took a sip of my wine, the strawberry scent mingling with a hint of chocolate. It was delicious. I raised the glass toward the camera but directed my words to Henri. “There are a lot of cameras here.”
Johann chuckled. “Keeps us safe.”
“And honest.” Henri turned from where he’d been cutting slices of bread. “It’s no different from working in any big kitchen. You either have cameras or an executive chef breathing down your neck. I’d choose the cameras any day. They don’t think they know your job better than you do.”
“How did you wind up here?”
Henri knelt behind the island, rummaging for something.
“He was working at the bakery in Cittavera.” Johann pulled out the stool next to me and sat. “When the old chef…”
“Left.” Henri stood suddenly with a kitchen torch in his hand, his expression serious. “When the old chef left.”
What did that mean?
“Bella!” Antonio appeared in the doorway, a broad smile on his face that caused my heart to flutter. His hand flew dramatically to his chest as he approached me. “You’re having wine without me?”
“What else am I supposed to do when you go off to the game room with the boys?” Just having him nearby eased the knot in my stomach that I’d barely noticed forming. There were so many secrets in this building, it was nauseating.
He pressed his lips to my cheek, holding them there long enough I got a hit of his cologne, which went very well with the wine. “Henri, I understand you’re crafting something special for dinner?”
“Trying to,” Henri said.
“I’m not very helpful.” I pointed to the lamb on the island. “That’s as far as we got, and it was Johann’s recommendation, anyway.”
Antonio shook his head and crossed to the refrigerator. “She’d live on microwave meals, if she could.”
“And takeout,” I added with a grin, turning to watch him rummage.
He closed the refrigerator and gestured to a short, narrow door next to it. “Do you keep the root cellar stocked?”
“I do.”
“Carrots? Maybe go with a Middle-Eastern flair? Harissa and honey-roasted carrots? Or some roasted onions? Rosemary potatoes?”
Henri joined Antonio and opened the door, a cool draft seeping through it. “I’ll see what we have. What about roasted sweet potatoes? Maybe with a pistachio and chili pesto?”
Johann nudged me. “Are any of these your favorites?”
Antonio and Henri descended a set of stairs behind the door, randomly naming various ingredients and foods.
“I don’t know, but they all sound good.” I took a gulp of my wine and stood, looking down the staircase, so steep it was practically a ladder.
“Want to see?” Johann joined me. “It’s original to the monastery.”
“Really?”