When I came back up to the grand salon—still having seen no one else in the whole of the house—Sandro was waiting there for me, looking grim.
He looked even grimmer when he heard what I had to say.
“I don’t think it was your brother who did this.”
“You’ve always had a soft spot for thattesta di cazzo. Did he get on his knees for you while you were down there in the cells?”
“Okay,” I said mildly. “Think what you want. Me, I’m leaving town.”
He glared at me, his jaw jumping as he clenched his teeth. “You can’t. I need you.”
I almost laughed, until I remembered Julian had said the same thing. “You have a whole senior administration to help you out—”
“Not in this matter.”
I took a close look at him. “You don’t think Julian did it either,” I said slowly. “Then—”
“Be quiet,” he snapped, as we heard footsteps in the foyer. They passed by, and Sandro came up close to me, his voice lowered. “I am still considering my options. For now, you will keep silent about everything. Understand?”
I shrugged. “Like I said, I’ll be out of Los Angeles by—”
“You owe me,” he hissed. A hard moment passed between us. “You owe my father,” he added, in a more even tone. “You will stay until I release you, and you will enjoy the same protections my father offered. You have my word of honor that I will not lift a hand against youwhileI need you. Do you understand me?”
I thought it over. Extended warranty, it seemed like—a few more months of protection from Sonny Vegas. And I knew I could trust Sandro. He wasn’t like his father or his brother. When he gave his word…
Well, he was like me. He kept it.
“Protection for Miller Beaumont as well,” I said. He sneered, and I added, “I won’t stay unless I hear you say it, Castellani.”
“Protection for yourgiocattolinoas well,” he snapped.
I held out a hand. After a moment of hesitation, he took it. I pulled him in close so he could look me straight in the eyes. “One more thing, Castellani. Disrespect Miller again, I’ll break your jaw.”
Sandro snorted and pulled his hand out of mine.
“I’ll take these with me, too,” I said, looking over at Miller’s triptych. I went to the wall and started taking the paintings down. Sandro made no move to stop me. “By the way, what happened to the Caroline Jar?” I asked over my shoulder, nodding at the glass case where it had once been housed.
“I believe my father gave it to Julian as a reward for services rendered.” When I turned with a questioning face, he added, “That business with Angelo Messina a little while back. I can’t be sure, but…” He shook his head. “I believe Papa had more to do with the outcome than he was willing to admit. He was not…an honorable man.”
“No, he was not,” I agreed fervently, gathering up the triptych in my arms. “Only reasonwehave a deal is because I don’t think you take after him, Castellani.”
Sandro’s chin came up, like he was pleased to hear me say it, but didn’t like to admit it.
“Guess I’ll see you around,” I said, and left him standing there, grateful that I didn’t have his problems.
I drove as fast as I could back to the Hills, where Miller came tearing out of the house when I pulled up in front, throwing himself into my arms as soon as I got out of the car. “JJ, I thought—when I didn’t hear anything—”
“Alright, sweetheart, it’s alright,” I murmured into his hair. “Plans have changed a little. We’re safe, though. We’re safe. I’ll tell you all about it inside.”
I made to turn him back the way he came, but he was staring into the back of the car. “Those are my paintings,” he said, confused. “That’s the triptych I painted for…”
“It sure is,” I said, and kissed him. “And now it’s back where it belongs. Come on, now, Trouble. Back inside. We’ll go up to the art room, and you can keep working on that portrait while I tell you all the news.”
He looked up into my face, and I had to catch my breath again at how damnluckyI was to have him. “Alright, JJ,” he said, trusting as ever. “Come and tell me all the news.”
He smiled at me and I felt it again like I did every time: dead shot, straight to the heart.
* * *
