In For the Kill (McClouds & Friends #11)(96)

It made her chest hurt, imagining how angry and betrayed Sam was going to feel, but he’d driven her to it. And he might be right about Michael Hazlett being a big prick, but she’d draw that conclusion for herself, thanks. Nor was she particularly interested in drawing it today.

It was the Villa Rosalba, and whatever secrets it might harbor, that beckoned her this morning. Neither Sam nor Hazlett was going to keep her from it. So everyone could just back the f*ck off already.

She pulled out her phone and turned the ringtone off.





CHAPTER 19

The Villa Rosalba was perched on a ridge over the sea. It was a small, graceful Renaissance castle, made of pale gold tinted stonework. Sveti stepped out of the car and into the blazing sunshine. Her smooth-soled sandals slipped and slid over ancient cobblestones.

Renato came out to greet her, dapper in a pale linen jacket, a silk scarf knotted around his tanned throat. Oozing with money, and the native arrogance that sometimes accompanied it. How could Mama have chosen this effete nobleman, after Sergei Ardov? Her father had been the polar opposite of this guy. Fiercely handsome. Pragmatic, stern, ascetic in his habits. Focused on work to the point of obsession.

Hazlett came out to greet her, too. She suffered through the ritual, being kissed on both cheeks, her beauty exclaimed over, blah blah blah. Her smile felt stiff, aching. Stapled on.

“You look pale, Svetlana.” Hazlett cut into Renato’s rhapsodizing, thank God. “Have you eaten anything yet today?”

“Not yet,” she said. “But I’m not all that hungry.”

“Well, find an appetite. They’re setting out breakfast on the terrace right now,” Renato said. “Come, let me show you the house.”

The palace was an exquisitely restored gem. Harmonious, vaulted rooms full of light, glowing with restored frescoes and graceful loggias overlooking the sea. At one point, she was led along a breezeway that bordered a large atrium in the center of the building. A sculpture garden was featured, arrayed around an ancient fountain.

“My mother told me about this atrium,” she said.

Both men stopped and turned to look at her. “Did she?” Renato asked. “What did she say?”

“Just how beautiful it was,” she said. “And that statue of Atlas.”

“Oh, yes. Atlas. She loved it. I’ll show it to you after breakfast.”

Sveti had to force herself to eat. There was pastry, fruit, cheeses, prosciutto, and salami. She took black coffee, berries, a small pastry.

“Your mother and I always breakfasted on the terrace when the weather permitted,” Renato said. His eyes darted to the pastry in her hand. “She had a fondness for those. Ricce con crema. Her favorite.”

The food in her mouth became a tasteless lump. It dried out her mouth, to think of Mama lounging on this terrace like a pampered, fluffy poodle. Nibbling sweets with this self-important idiot.

There had to have been a good reason. Some powerful, driving motive, for doing something so out of character. The abstracted, cerebral scholar who Sveti remembered had never cared about luxury. She would not have married Sergei Ardov if she had. Her mother’s early life with her rich father and ex-pat mother in France had been much more luxurious. With her beauty, she could have had her pick of men.

“I’m so sorry, Svetlana. How clumsy of me, to speak of her,” Renato said gently. “I shouldn’t have.”

Sveti forced herself to swallow. “Not at all,” she said. “This is why I came, after all. To talk about her.” She put the pastry down uneaten.

“I’m surprised that your pit bull did not join us,” Hazlett said. “Is he loosening his grip? Or did you slip away when he wasn’t looking?”

Sveti choked on coffee, clapping the napkin to her lips just in time to save her dress. “Please don’t call him that. His name is Sam Petrie.”

“I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,” Hazlett said. “But I’m glad we have you to ourselves. Mr. Petrie was, well, overwhelming. I understand his protective attitude, of course. And I applaud it.”

“I owe him my life,” Sveti said.

“And I will always be grateful. However, he struck me as controlling. His attitude seemed one of ownership, you might say.”

Sveti shook her head. Even if it was true, it was none of his goddamn business, and even less so was the fact that Sam felt the same way about Hazlett himself. “That is between myself and him,” she said.

“I know I’m taking a risk,” Hazlett said. “But you’re young, and all alone in the world. Don’t let your natural gratitude for his heroic rescue cloud your judgment. That’s all I ask.”

“My judgment is just fine, thank you,” she said.

“Your mother would never have wanted you to get involved with anyone who might limit your possibilities,” Renato said.

“Don’t preach to me about what my mother would or would not have wanted,” she retorted.

Shocked silence followed that reproof.

Sveti bit her lip. “Sorry,” she said tightly. “That was uncalled for.”

“Not at all,” Renato said. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

There was an expectant pause, as if both men were waiting. Renato examined his fingernails. Hazlett sipped coffee.