The Raven (The Florentine #1)(44)
“It’s likely he was the same man who has been following you since yesterday, but I can’t say for sure.”
Raven hugged the pillow more tightly. “He saw the man yelling at me. He came to help.”
“Policemen tend to do that.” The Prince sniffed.
She pointed a contemptuous look in his general direction. “You don’t care, do you? You don’t care that he died trying to protect me.”
“No, I don’t. His protection was unnecessary. I was protecting you, through the relic.”
“Why?”
“Why, indeed?” he muttered to himself.
“There has to be a reason.” She turned toward the window, which was shuttered. “I don’t have any money. I don’t have anything of value. What do you want?”
Several answers sprang to the Prince’s mind. But he was not about to entertain them. Or confess them.
He moved toward the bed and adopted a lighter tone.
“Perhaps I’m captivated by those green eyes of yours.”
Raven blinked in the darkness. “Now I know you’re lying. Why don’t you tell me who you are and what you really want?”
The Prince’s gaze focused on her so sharply, she almost felt it.
“I want you to leave the city.”
“You seem to know a lot about what goes on in Florence. Something happened to me last week. I lost my memory and—things changed.”
“I know that.” His voice was low.
“Tell me what happened.” She put the pillow aside and moved to the edge of the bed. “Please.”
He ground his teeth together. “No.”
“I have a right to know. You have to tell me.” Her expression twisted his insides.
“Promise me you’ll leave the city and I’ll tell you everything you wish to know.”
She sat back on her knees. “If I have the relic and it seems to work, why would I need to leave?”
“Are you mad?” he growled.
“Is the man who attacked the policeman the one who killed the others?”
The Prince froze. “What others?”
“La Nazione reported that several bodies were found downriver.”
His eyes narrowed. “When?”
“It was reported yesterday, but I haven’t had a chance to read the article.”
He swept away from her to the far side of the room, his mind spinning. He was unaware of the bodies and his anger at being surprised was almost boundless.
She heard him move and shifted to the side of the bed.
“Why won’t you go to the police? Interpol is here, investigating the Uffizi robbery. Why not turn these others over to the police?”
“Because I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Don’t presume to give advice about things you don’t understand!”
Undeterred by his temper, Raven continued.
“You won’t turn them in, but you’d go against the others to protect me? Why should I believe you?”
“You don’t have to believe me.” His voice lowered into a growl. “Just leave the city.”
“You gave me the relic to help me. You warned me about the others. Tonight, you heard about the feral and came to see if I was all right. Obviously you don’t want me to get hurt. If you’re powerful enough to know what’s going on in the city, you must be powerful enough to help me.
“Please don’t make me leave,” she whispered. “This is the only place I’ve ever been happy.”
For a moment he was silent. He closed his eyes and began rubbing his forehead.
At length, he spoke.
“A long time ago, I came here in search of happiness.”
“Did you find it?”
“No.”
“I did.” Raven’s tone bespoke her truthfulness. “I left the U.S. to start a new life. If you send me back, I’ll have nothing.”
The Prince watched her in the darkness—her uplifted face with the creamy skin and perfect features, her long black hair. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, and she was brave. Something akin to admiration began to grow and warm in his chest.
He shook his head. He hadn’t come to her home in order to admire her. Any connection to her could only lead to darkness.
He changed the subject abruptly. “Do you know the story of Cupid and Psyche?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” There was an edge to her voice.
“Learn from Psyche’s mistake and do what I tell you.”
“So you’re Cupid?”
He stepped closer and dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “I am the monster, hiding in the darkness.”
“I doubt that a monster would hand out religious artifacts to damsels in distress.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly ‘handing them out.’ I gave you money. Use it to go back to America.”
“It’s in a shoe box in my closet. I don’t want it.”
“You’ll need it.”
She lifted her hands. “All of this must have a perfectly reasonable explanation. The man who killed the other man was disturbed. It isn’t kind to refer to him as feral. And you and the others are part of a crime ring. Obviously.” There was more than a note of hope in her voice.