"And that's why you live here in Firenze?"
"Partly." Marcella's expression turned guarded. "I have history there with the ruling witch family. Helping you might break the uneasy peace between us."
"So you won't help?" Cosimo said, his heart sinking. "I suppose it's a good thing. I'm rather attached to all of my books."
Marcella studied his face carefully. "I didn't say I wouldn't help. I just want you to know that I might not be the best person for this. If I do agree to work with you, my price will be high because of it."
"That is fair," Cosimo replied with a nod. "What do you want?"
"I'll have to think about it," Marcella said. She drank the last of her espresso in a quick shot and got to her feet. She picked up the napkin and tucked the number into her bra with a wink.
Cosimo's irritation flared, and he huffed out. "How long will it take you to think about it?"
"For as long as I like." Marcella rested a hand on his shoulder on her way past him. Cosimo stilled under the touch. Goose bumps slid down his spine as she leaned down and whispered in his ear, "Something tells me you will wait for me."
And then she was gone in a haze of perfume and magic. Cosimo shot a look over his shoulder to get one last glimpseof her walking through the café. That skirt and everything it showed off burned into his retinas.
"I don't have time to wait," he grumbled under his breath.
I've been waiting for her for years,his dragon whispered, the scent of her still in his nose and lungs.
"You have not. Go away, you infernal menace." Cosimo leaned over to put his elbows on his knees and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.
He replayed the conversation over in his head, and when he closed his eyes, all he could see was the way she licked creme from her spoon.
Cosimo had expected going after Maria to be messy. Now he knew it would be a nightmare. Having to rely on a beautiful rival for help? He was, as his sons were going to be quick to point out, completely fucked.
5
Marcella kept her head high as she walked through the Uffizi Gallery and out the private staff exit. On the street, she tilted her face to the sun and took a deep breath. Her palms were dry, but her heart was racing.
She took the napkin from her bra, dabbed the sweat off her forehead, and dropped it into a nearby trash can. No man as young as the waiter could interest any part of her. She had only taken the napkin because it seemed to annoy Cosimo so much. Her mind was whirling as she tried to pull herself together with each deep inhale.
Thatwas the man who had been her unseen rival for years? She had expected someone full of self-importance, old, bald, and boring. Cosimo Greatdrakes had to irritate her even more by being none of those things.
He was casual and confident in his power, and so handsome with all that thick salt-and-pepper hair and his perfectly trimmed beard that it bordered on offensive.
In the light of the sunny day, his eyes were more violet than gray, and they saw through her usual tricks. At least if they worked together, he wouldn't underestimate her just becauseshe was a beautiful woman. It had been a problem with her and her colleagues in the past. That, and they always assumed she would sleep with them.
Idiots.
Marcella had looked up Cosimo in the past when he had first started to outbid her in private auctions. There had been no photos, just credentials and a lot of gossip from anyone in the magical community about him being a widower who charmed everyone and who had too much magic in his blood.
The Greatdrakes were an ancient magician family from Ireland, and there were rumors that they had dragon blood. There was something in his magic that wasn't human, but it wasn't something she had seen before.
Marcella had gone to the meeting only to look at his smug face and tell him no, and now she was reconsidering her decision. And he had books she needed for her research...
"Goddamn him," she hissed, turning on her heels and heading home.
Marcella had lived in her apartment in Santo Spirito since her divorce ten years ago. It was the only good thing she had gotten out of her marriage to Carlo the Stronzo. She liked the neighborhood and always got a good discount at the antiques store beneath her.
Once she was safely behind the door and protective wards, Marcella kicked off her heels and slid her feet into a pair of slippers with a sigh of contentment. She had been dressed for a war she didn't get.
Cosimo Greatdrakes was too...intriguing. She had heard him out instead of crushing him under her heels.
"You're too weak for a pretty face," she sighed and headed for her kitchen. She lit a small tealight candle by her statue of San Lorenzo, patron saint of cooks, and poured herself a glass of Chianti. Usually, she only drank wine in the evening, but shewas unsettled, her fingertips tingling with magic and her mind buzzing with possibilities.
Wine in hand, Marcella went to a wall in her study and stared at it. A portrait of her ancestor Caterina that had been painted by Botticelli sat in the middle of it, with red string branching out of it to other pieces of information. Many of the strings led back to a section of the wall dedicated to the Medici family, and to Cosimo the Elder specifically.
