The Darkness in Dreams (Enforcer's Legacy, #1)(58)

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” Lexi thought about that spider’s web and wondered what other spies were out there, since she hadn’t told Renata where she’d been before coming to this flat. “Will you talk to me again, Renata?”

Dante appeared. His hands curved around Renata’s thin shoulders and the woman rose, allowing him to guide her back into the darkened interior without giving an answer. Lexi closed her eyes, then got to her feet and followed Arsen to the Vespa.





CHAPTER 23





It was near dusk when Christan returned to the safe flat in Florence. He nodded to the watcher who was kicking a soccer ball in the courtyard with a few lanky boys. They were dragging out the last, golden moments of the day. Christan watched, then jogged up several flights of stairs to the heavy arched door

The apartment was quiet. Through the open French doors, Christan could see the bell tower and the rusty-colored dome of the most famous cathedral in Florence. He had always liked that view. It calmed him. A constant that hadn’t changed. Still, his instincts tightened and he glanced around the tiny kitchen, searching the shadows until he heard the sound of her voice. Lexi was out on the balcony, talking to herself, something she did when she was alone.

She was sitting on the tiles and leaning back against the wall, deep in shadow except for her right ankle, which was still warmed by orange sunlight. She was having a silly argument with herself before probing the black railing with her foot: she wanted to see how far her sandal could go before the narrow opening trapped her toes.

And she looked nervous.

Christan knew why. When Arsen reported the empty flat, Christan’s reaction had been anger. Later, his second-in-command explained how she’d tried to swear him to secrecy, and that had left him coldly amused. But he told Arsen to protect her confidences. Lexi needed a friend. Since Marge wasn’t here, Christan would trust no one else but Arsen.

Now he wondered if she would confess her sins or continue to trust Arsen with her secrets.

“What part of don’t leave did you not understand?” he asked, leaning against the doorway and enjoying the startled jerk of her body. She reminded him of a guilty little girl; he wanted to touch her just to see if she was real.

“Technically this isn’t leaving,” she answered archly, refusing to look in his direction. “The balcony is an extension of the kitchen through the French doors.”

“Are you going to come in, then?”

“Um, not yet.”

“Is your foot stuck?”

“No.” The sandal was now caught on the iron railing and she was trying to twist free. Perhaps she thought he wouldn’t notice, but he always noticed with her.

“Here, you’ll bruise the skin.” Christan was beside her in an instant, silent as he eased the sandal from her heel. He tossed it aside, loosened the other sandal, tossed it with the mate. Her skin glowed. He wrapped his hand around her ankle until he felt her stiffen.

“What were you doing out here anyway?” he asked.

“Nothing,” she said, pushing upright. He wished she was still arguing with herself about something silly, like poking her toes through a railing. Her loneliness was palpable.

“You look tired,” she said as she walked barefoot to the small counter in the kitchen as if she didn’t know quite what to do. He followed her inside, waited for a moment before answering.

“It was a long day.”

Silently, Lexi handed him a glass of red wine. It wasn’t his normal preference, but since she’d poured one for herself Christan took it. There was something… nice about drinking wine in the shadows that had grown so deep all he could see was her shape and not her expression.

“You visited with Renata?” he asked, even though he’d received a full report.

“Yes, although I have a confession to make. I left the flat. I asked Arsen not to say anything, but that was wrong. It was my decision and I accept responsibility.”

“I’m sure you had a reason.” Odd, Christan realized, that he didn’t point out the promise to follow his rules. She looked so uncomfortable with the confession he didn’t have the heart.

“You’re not yelling at me,” she said.

“No.” He sipped the wine.

“You must be tired.”

She sounded suspicious, so Christan shifted around, obscuring his expression. “What did you think about Renata?” he asked into the silence.

“She’s fragile, broken but with tremendous strength.”

“Do you think she’ll recover?”

“Perhaps. If Marge was here, she could help.”

“I can’t afford to have more people vulnerable than I already do,” he said.

“I’m sorry if I made you worry.” Christan watched as she sipped her wine, lost in thought. Without looking up, she said, “I learned more about Katerina, though. She doesn’t want Arsen to find her.”

“It’s that way in every lifetime for them.”

“Oh.” He could tell by her little sigh that it hurt her, realizing Arsen was so estranged from his mate. Arsen spoke rarely about the relationship. But he’d confided late one night, told Christan it was during the last lifetime, the one here in Florence nearly a century ago, when the girl agreed to live with him in the flat he still maintained. Katerina had struggled with the arrangement, caught in some fear Arsen could never resolve before she ran away.