Yes, Raphael wasdisguised as a priest. It had worked once in history.
He held his fist in front of Luca’s face. “Kiss the ring.”
“You’re not wearing a ring,Monsignor.Only bishops and higher get to wear ecclesiastical rings.”
Raphael bobbed his fist at Luca’s face. “Come on. Kiss the ring. It’s worth fifty days of indulgences.”
“You’re not wearing a ring, jackass, and you’d like it too much.”
“So, what’sstopping you?”
“Go to Hell, Schwarz.”
“Yeah, probably.” Raphael dropped his hand and walked into the crowd that streamed toward the Prince’s Palace, chuckling.
He needed Luca around. Luca kept him sane.
Like Wulfram used to.
Protecting Wulfram and Flicka had been Raphael’s mission for many years of his life, and now he wasn’t sure if Wulfram would ever speak to him again.
As he walked, thelong, black cassock swished around his legs, catching on the fabric of his pants and shirt underneath.
Aiden had said that he’d found the formal, priestly garment in a set of unused rooms in the palace when he’d dropped it in the back of Raphael’s car, along with diagrams and maps.
The cassock’s skirt was wide, even voluminous.
A handgun in a holster was strapped to one of Raphael’s legs.
He drew himself upright and walked, holding his head up straight with all the arrogance of a Swiss heir to a billion-dollar fortune or an untouchable man of God, as he strolled into the Prince’s Palace for the Winter Ball along with the other billionaires, royalty, and elites.
The statue of François Grimaldi, Pierre Grimaldi’s ancestor, dressed as a monk and wielding a long knife, threw a long,black shadow over the courtyard as the glittering crowd passed it on their way into the ball.
Raphael looked as if he belonged there, and no one looked twice at him as he merged into the crowd of tuxedos, ball gowns, diamonds, and gold.
The Secret Service agents at the small security checkpoint waved him around the metal detector.
Because no one ever suspects the priest.
