* * *
Six hours later, I was bundled for arctic conditions—in pajamas that would warm any ice queen—under the covers, staring at the ceiling, watching as the angels above my head seem to flutter their wings and dart from one side of the painting to another.
I didn’t get to finish both bottles of wine by myself. I had some help from my female tribe. Still, I had enough—enough to make my craggy world seem even sharper. Because what do you have after all bravado has run dry and your friends are in their own rooms leaving you in absolute quiet?
Just you and the problems, that’s what.
“Problems seem to swell, don’t they?” I asked the cherub above, whose face was alight with mischief. Or was it cuteness? “Hard to tell—you just have one of those faces, fella.”
I started to cry, hiccups and all. “You save a man’s life, and this is the thanks you get! He drives you to drink, eat too much pasta, and then cry yourself to sleep!”
“Scarlett.”
At first, I thought the mischievous cherub was answering me. I blinked the tears out, wiping at my eyes, only to make them even blurrier. “Holy moly,” I breathed. Then I heard it again. I looked to my right, and on instinct, I threw my pillow at the door, hitting Vincenzo in the face. The weapon fell to the floor with a softplop!
He looked stunned for a moment, eyes wide, lips parted in shock. “I have never been pillow-slapped before.”
His reaction caused me to sob and laugh at the same time, which made me seem unstable.
He sniffed at the air. Then he smiled, real slow. He was a handsome man—strong bone structure, features to match, long, silky jet hair, and mysterious dark eyes—with a shocking sense of humor. Aside from the fact that he was, essentially, a hit man, he’d be a catch for some woman.
“The air is drunk. Even the fire.” He nodded to the fireplace, where flames seemed to sway, the collection hissing softly. “The party went well.”
“Yes.” I hiccupped. Then I wiped my eyes. “No.”
“Somewhere in the middle then.” He smiled again, even wider, which sometimes equaled a laugh for him.
“What are you doing in here?”
He leaned against the doorframe, one arm against it. He watched me for a moment before he cleared his throat. “You did not answer at my knock. I heard voices.” He shrugged. “I knew the women all went back to their rooms. You have a visitor.”
“I do?” I popped up like a puppet on a string, sniffing. I didn’t even bother to fix my hair. It was having a moment with static electricity, most of this coming from my thick pajamas and the air being void of any moisture. “Who?”
Vincenzo didn’t outright laugh, but his mouth twitched. I amused him. Or my hair did. Actually, he probably had his pick.
“Lev,” he said.
“Oh!” I threw my feet to the floor, surprised.
After the rescue, and once we reached safe land, Lev had disappeared. I had tried calling him, but he never answered. I didn’t get a chance to thank him.
I knew he had his reasons for aiding us, even blowing up the yacht, but the fact of the matter was that he had saved my life. He put himself in danger to see my husband and me to safety. The specifics were of no real concern.
I didn’t bother putting on my robe or even my slippers. The thick wool on my feet was enough. By the time Vincenzo and I made it to the entrance of the castle, Guido, Donato, and Brando’s brothers had formed a circle around Lev.
The air was tense.
Here was the thing about these men: You put them on the same team with the same goals, and they perform as one, for the good of the cause. Once the cause is reached, everyone to safety, men who didn’t trust one another in the beginning retract, and the camaraderie disappears.
All that wariness had returned, along with suspicion.
It warmed my heart to see them shaking his hand, though, thanking him for taking care of me, for helping them save my husband, their brother.
Lev’s eyes lit up when he saw me. “Are you cold,zolotse?”
This from a man who probably lived in a snow palace in Russia somewhere. The storm in Italy was being no slouch, though; a puddle had formed underneath him from the tracked-in snow, and his dark blue beanie was almost white, as were his dark lashes.
This made me smile a bit. He returned it in kind.
