I looked between the brothers, and Rocco sighed.
“A woman and man were found on the premises. The man is a German photographer. The woman is a journalist from America. She works for Vice City Press. She writes under the name Pepper Nash.” Rocco’s eyes turned to mine. “She asked if you were here. Do you know her,cugino?”
“No,” I said. “I did not even speak to the press last night.”
Brando grunted at this. An agreeable noise.
“She also mentioned Renato,” Rocco continued. “She was with him before the meeting in the restricted part of the palazzo, or so she says.”
My memories went in reverse and snagged on a fallen angel in a white dress. She had caught my attention, and I’d been drawn to her for some reason. Renato had made a move on her, and she had talked to him. The urge to break his hands when he had put them on her was strong, but my mamma had changed his fate when she demanded I escort her to the reserved area of the palazzo.
Then…
I took a breath, remembering how she had stolen mine.
We had run into each other, and she almost knocked me to my knees.
It was such a powerful exchange that, forevermore, if I was in a crowded room full of women, I’d search out her scent to find my way to her.
Did I know her?
I’d never met her and exchanged words, but my soul had introduced itself to hers, and hers had answered back in a language I couldn’t understand but felt.
My great-grandmother had told me that happened between her and my great-grandfather, and if it ever happened to me, it would make a permanent mark.
Brando and Rocco were staring at me when I blinked back to reality. I would have to explain this in the simplest way. “I did not meet her knowing she was with the press. I did not even get her name, or her business at the event, but I noticed her talking with Renato before the meeting. After, we ran into each other in the halls.”
Brando’s eyes narrowed on me, like he held an inside secret, but it would take a master thief to step inside his mind and steal his thoughts.
Rocco nodded. “There is more to this. A few months back, a man contacted her at the newspaper. She claims he used a voice-distorting device to hide his true voice. At the time, she did not know if it was a man or woman. This person had claimed he or she had access to all our properties.”
Brando stood taller, and my entire body went rigid.
“He came to her after, dressed in a disguise, and threatened her family, who are in Italy. Her sister is married to Brio Valentino.”
“Valentino,” Brando repeated. “His family owns the bakery with the same name in New York?”
“Sì,” Rocco said. “Brio was sent away from New York for a time because of family business.”
By “family business,” I knew Rocco did not mean actual family business. Brio was connected in New York, but I did not have much to do with all of that.
“Tell me, brother, why did this man threaten her family,” Brando said in Italian. His demeanor took on a harder edge. His suspicious nature was starting to speak to him.
“He used it as leverage to force her to attend the ball in Venice with Rainer Winters. He wanted to speak to Scarlett, and his sister was able to obtain a pass. Thismanseems to have connections to the Paris dance scene.”
The air grew still, and the two brothers stared at each other, communicating with their eyes.
A few seconds later, Rocco nodded. “He told Ava to call him ON.”
If murder had a scent, Brando was reeking of it.
Rocco looked at me. “ON stands for Olivier Nemours. He is the man who has been terrorizing my brother’s wife for too long.”
“I have heard things,” I said. “Who is Ava?”
“Pepper Nash’s true name. Ava Girardi.”
Ava. The angel in the white dress. The name suited her.
