The heavy bassof the music feels like it's pounding in my skull as I take Darian back into the house. Every security eye turns to me, as though they feel the energy I'm putting out as soon as I walk through the door. And all around us, Los Angeles' most notorious criminals are intermingled with the city's most glittering stars.
I catch Santarelli's eye and jerk my chin towards the doors, then make a circling motion with my finger. He nods, turns, makes hand signals to the other guards. They'll secure the perimeter. My gaze slides to Roxy Rochford, draped on the arm of that idiot Gino Bernardi. Her smile is too wide, too sharp.
She seems to be looking straight at me, and then she raises a hand and gives a little wiggle of her fingers. What the—oh. From right next to me, Nero Andretti begins to walk over to her, and once he's there, he, Gino and Roxy lean in to have a conversation.
I told Sandro about Nero's conversation with Roxy at the pool. He took it in and said nothing. I asked if he really thought they were having an affair, because I couldn't believe Sandro wouldfall for something so obvious—especially when Nero Andretti has connections to Sandro's own mother.
He'd barked out this weird laugh. "Nero appreciates beauty," he told me, "but he has no sexual interest in women. Whatever sugar he planned to offer, it was not love."
"So Boss, don't you think?—"
"Thank you, DeLuca," he'd said mildly, "for bringing this to my attention. I will handle it from here." He'd dismissed me after that, and I reminded myself that my job was just to give Sandro the information and my assessment, and wait forhimto make a decision.
He hasn't made one yet. So Nero Andretti doesn't look like he's moving out in the foreseeable future.
Darian catches me glaring at Nero, and his brows pinch with concern. I squeeze his arm in reassurance. "I'll get Santarelli to escort you back to the Manor. Safer there."
"What? No. I'm working, Raffi, I can't just?—"
"You just got attacked," I snap. "You're taking an early night."
"No." His eyes spark fire. "Raffi, I'm alright. I wasn't hurt."
"You were scared out of your damn mind!"
"Well, I'm not frightened now," he insists, lifting up his face bravely.
"Yeah? Well I am. I don't want you left alone while I do what I need to do."
Darian's eyes turn pleading. "It will be more helpful to you if I stay here, Raffi. Keep the party going. Make sure none of the civilians know what's going on."
Civilians. He's picking up my language. I don't know if I love that, but his insistence is wearing me down. "You're determined, huh? Okay. In that case, I'll have Santarelli shadow you while I check the video feed and then talk to the Boss."
Darian huffs, and starts brushing off his tux, tutting at a grass stain in the knee. "You really think I'm in danger here in the house?"
"Half the people in this room are killers," I point out, "and the other half play them on TV." I try to be more gentle as I tell him, "Do me a favor? Gather up Sandro, Jack, Julian and Leo. The main bedroom is the most secure room in the house—take them there. Now. And be discreet."
That was unnecessary. Darian is nevernotdiscreet. His mouth thins, but he inclines his head and slides into the crowd. I watch him go, hoping that I've made the right choice in letting him stay here.
Seeing him so afraid—it did bad things to me. Bad, murderous things.
I head into the back room of the Retreat where the security setup has been installed. There are cameras in the trees out there, but when I play back the video feed, it takes a long time to spot the guy. Darian stands out clear in that white tux. But his stalker is much more difficult to find, a shadow moving through shadows.
Almost like he'd done a reconnaissance before tonight and knew where the cameras were situated.
I go back out to the party and Santarelli comes over. "Perimeter's secure. All guests inside. What's up?"
"Intruder in the grounds," I tell him. "Contact Pedretti if the house hasn't already. Double check how their sweep's going. Now, while I'm dealing with the Boss, you're shadowing Darian. And ask Freddie Lazzaro to watch Teddy MacCallum and Miller Beaumont, okay?"
Julian, predictably, proves to be the most difficult for Darian to persuade. As I watch from a distance, Julian throws his head back in laughter, clearly enjoying the attention of several partygoers. When Darian gently touches his elbow, Julian scowls and pulls away—but Darian, the damn psycho-whisperer, somehow manages to coax him away.
Once I'm satisfied the guards are following orders and that the inner circle has gathered, I make my own way to the bedroom. Julian is lounging on the bed, pouting. "Why are you interrupting my party, Raffaello? And why all the cloak-and-dagger?"
"There's been an intruder on the grounds," I say flatly.
"An intruder?" Sandro asks sharply.
"Don't worry, I've got eyes on Teddy while we're in here. On Miller too," I add, as Jack opens his mouth. "But first—Darian—" But I don't have to tell him to leave. He's already heading for the door.
