My attention was caught by a desk where a young woman was attaching laminated passes to colorful lanyards. If we were lucky, Scarlett and Malcolm would obtain backstage access. If weweren’tthatlucky, but still lucky enough, that woman had the passes we needed.
We were shown to a meeting room at the rear of the building, with a glass wall separating us from the office activity and another on the opposite wall offering a view of the small courtyard. The room featured a conference table for six and plush leather chairs, while digital displays on the wall scrolled through previous events.
Gabriella Rossi entered moments later. She had dark hair and was in her mid-forties, dressed in a burgundy suit.
“Signor and Signora Stone,” she greeted warmly, shaking hands with Malcolm, then Scarlett. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Sierra mentioned you’re planning a significant anniversary celebration?”
I positioned myself near the door, at an angle that let me monitor my teammates while keeping an eye on the office. Malcolm and Scarlett slipped effortlessly into their roles, discussing his fictional parents’ fiftieth wedding anniversary planned for next November.
“We’re considering Naples because it’s where they honeymooned,” Scarlett explained, her voice carrying just the right note of sentimentality. She moved into their substantial budget and their desire for exclusivity.
I half-listened while keeping the credential desk in my peripheral vision. The woman I’d noticed earlier was now sorting through the passes, occasionally glancing our way with undisguised curiosity.
Scarlett steered the conversation toward current events. “I understand you’re handling a performance at the Pompeii Amphitheater this weekend?”
“Yes,” Gabriella confirmed. “The ‘Rebirth of Antiquity’ concert is part of the Notte Bianca festivities. It willbe a stunning presentation, combining modern musical performances with an artistic light show.”
“The amphitheater would be spectacular for the party.”
Gabriella nodded appreciatively. “It’s a magnificent venue, though there are many considerations for booking historic sites. Permits, preservation requirements.”
“That’s a fantastic idea, honey muffin.” Malcolm beamed at Scarlett with unabashed admiration, the way he only did while they were undercover and pretending to be married—and she couldn’t tell him to stop. “We’d love to attend this concert to get a sense of how the space functions during an event.”
Gabriella smiled. “I can arrange seating in the upper portion of the bowl.”
“What about backstage?” asked Malcolm. “So we can see the operations?”
We’d purchased several floor tickets from a resale site. Anyone on our team could slip backstage with one of those tickets, but we’d have to bypass security. That would risk a Fenix member looking too closely at us in our disguises. It would be easier with legitimate access.
Or at least with passes that appeared legitimate.
“I’m sorry. There’s no backstage access available.”
For the general public, no doubt. There was always backstage access.
“Are you sure?” Scarlett exchanged a glance with Malcolm. “We can pay.”
Gabriella spread her hands in apology. “Mi dispiace, but it’s not a matter of money.”
Scarlett pouted, and how Malcolm didn’t laugh at her amazed me. “We understand. I suppose observing from the audience would be valuable for our planning.”
That was her way of moving us to Plan B.
My turn.
I touched my earpiece as if receiving a message, then leaned toward Malcolm. “Excuse me, sir. There’s a situation I need to deal with.”
He gave me the barest nod of acknowledgment. “Of course, James. Take whatever time you need.”
I exited the meeting room, striding toward the reception area. I paused halfway through the office, pulling out my phone as if checking a message.
The credential desk was unattended, the woman having moved to a printer across the office.
Perfect.
I stared at my phone, took a few steps toward the wall, and furrowed my brow. From my position, I could watch the woman’s desk without seeming obvious. The stack of black passes bore images of the Pompeii Amphitheater and the letters VIP in gold at the bottom.
Keeping my eyes on my phone, I shifted my attention between the screen and the woman at the printer. She gathered her papers, turned, and started walking back toward her desk.
