Page 62 of The Scarab's Game
“I know his family.” He cupped the back of his neck, gaze drifting to the open door to the office. “I need to check something.”
He left without another word, and I followed. Through the office, turned into the short hallway, and to the secure storage room. He punched a code into the panel by the door and pushed the door open.
Emmett’s voice was as clear as if he’d been standing there, saying,‘Don’t go in there with him.’
But one glance inside captured me. The room was a trove of art and antiquities I had to explore. Glorious marble sculptures lined the walls. Empty frames, paintings in dozens of slots, jewelry boxes, and drawers that hid many treasures.
Emmett had explored the workshop yesterday morning. He would have loved this room even more.
“My father keeps a copy on his yacht.” Dante pulled painting after painting out of the storage slots. “When we arrived, he had everything brought here, because it was more secure while the boat was docked.”
His fingers danced over some larger pieces, and he resumed pulling out everything of roughly the same size asWheatfield.
“It’s not here.” He opened a large chest at the back, pulling out masses of fabric and dropping them unceremoniously on the ground. “He wouldn’t…”
I scanned the room, searching for anywhere a painting of the right size could be hiding.
Dante finally stopped, hands landing on his hips. He turned to me, his expression grim. “He cleared out a lot of his favorite pieces recently. His yacht is being prepared for his trip to Napoli.”
“Maybe the real one is on his yacht?”
“He’s not a criminal.” Dante’s eyes hardened, betraying—what? Doubt? Why would he leap to defend his father against an accusation I hadn’t made? “And I’m going to prove it to you.”
Chapter 21
Emmett
I leanedagainst the stone half-wall at the garden’s edge, overlooking the Port Hercule yacht club. Normally, I’d admire the display of wealth below me—million-dollar yachts crammed in between multi-million-dollar yachts—but I couldn’t rip my focus from the tracker app on my phone. Watching. The little dot representing Jenn had left the gallery, heading for the marina.
“What’s she doing?” I muttered, inadvertently using my outside voice again.
“Visiting Massimo’s yacht?” Drew’s tone was maddeningly reasonable. He barely knew Jenn, so maybe I could excuse it, but he was in work mode. Observe. Orient. Decide. Act.
“Where else would they be going?” I glowered at him, which he ignored.
Drew shrugged, his posture relaxed in a way that only pissed me off more. “Monaco’s not very big, but there are a lot of yachts.”
“Where is it?” I held my phone so he could see the map. “You were there last night.”
Drew barely glanced at the phone. “I can’t see her, but the GPS looks like they’re heading in the right direction.”
I splayed my fingers on the stone in front of me, the rough surface almost enough to anchor me in the present. Was this payback for last night? For this morning? The memory of Jenn in my arms, her lips so close to mine, flashed through my mind. I’d wanted to kiss her so fucking badly. But I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. No matter how much I?—
“What’s the story between you two?”
“What?” I snapped.Get control.I forced my voice to soften. “Nothing. There’s no story.”
“I doubt that.” Drew’s eyebrows rose, his expression skeptical. “For someone who claims to be just friends, you’re awfully worked up about who she spends time with.”
“It’s not about that. Dante’s father is a criminal. They’re mixed up with Fenix. What if… what if Enzo’s on the yacht?”
The name alone sent a chill down my spine, memories of my captivity threatening to surface. I pushed them down, focusing on the present danger.
“I understand your concern, but I don’t believe it’s the only reason you’re glaring at your phone.”
I opened my mouth to argue, then thought better of it. I wasn’t going to fool Drew. Instead, I changed the subject—to one only slightly less awkward. “Tell me more about the intel on my mother. You said an old colleague remembered her from MI6?”
Drew leaned his hands on the half-wall, not taking his eyes off the marina. “You don’t need details about my source, but suffice to say he worked with Evelyn in the late eighties, before she left the service. She went by Evelyn Stone back then.”