“Teddy,” he grits out.
The alarms are blaring in my ears. “What about Teddy?” I ask, completely calm. Perhaps this is how Julian feels at all times, his emotions an easy thing to wrap up and put away in a dark corner of his mind.
Jacopo is starting to look less sure of his accusations. “Teddy went to Miller with a message for you.”
“For me?”
“If you sent him—”
“What was the message?”
“If this was some test of loyalty—”
“What was the message?” I hiss.
Jacopo stares at me. I don’t like the click of comprehension in his eyes, the dawning awareness that I have no idea about any of this.
I am Don Castellani. Ishouldknow these things.
I’m starting to think I haven’t done my due diligence when it comes to Teddy MacCallum.
“For some reason, he wanted you to know that Lina Lamond was going to be at Roxanne Rochford’s engagement party,” Jacopo says slowly. “And Miller asked him why he didn’t just tell you himself, but Teddy wouldn’t say. So I’m going to ask you the same thing now. Why isyourboyfriend sendingyoua message through mine? When I agreed to stick around and help you out, part of our agreement was protection for Miller. He isnotto be involved.”
I look down, unseeing, at his hat on the desk, at the stain that spills out from under it, leading to me where I sit. I say nothing.
But I’m thinking of Julian.
Oh, Sandro. I never took you for such a fool.
“Teddy is not my boyfriend,” I say mechanically.
Jacopo thumps his fist down on the desk. “I knew it. I fuckingknewit.”
I give him a cold look, and he wipes the triumph from his face. I don’t want Jacopo, of all people, to know how I feel about Teddy, and so the lie comes easily to my tongue. “He was a few nights’ enjoyment, and I saw no reason to endanger him. I sent him away this morning for his own protection. If you had any honor, you’d do the same foryourboy, Jacopo. But you prefer your pleasures. That’s the difference between us.”
Most of the time, Jacopo takes my snide shots with indifference. Not today.
“The difference between us, Castellani, runs much deeper than that.” His tone is low. Dangerous. Dark. The way he looks at me makes me remember vividly his elite competence. A hitman since his teens. Formidable.
When the time comes, he won’t let me kill him without a fight.
A change of topic will be better for both of us right now. “Teddy MacCallum,” I say. “He attends those parties that Miller gives. And so I assume you’ve looked into his background?”
Jacopo snorts. “I’m not some greenhorn, Sandro. Every person who sets foot inside Miller’s house and grounds has been vetted—by meandby my contacts.”
Our eyes meet. He’s starting to wonder the same things I am wondering.
“Run your checks again. Come back to me tomorrow morning and tell me what you’ve learned.”
It’s only after he leaves that I think again about Julian’s other suggestion, so silly that I didn’t even consider it at the time. But now I see he has a point.
WhatwasJacopo doing here the day my father was murdered?
CHAPTER35
SANDRO
It’s beenfour days now since I buried my father, and since it doesn’t look like he’s going to rise again, the pressure on me is only mounting.
