"Looking good, D," I reply before I can stop myself. Whoops. Too informal, too familiar. Darian looks a little flushed, probably because I just barged into him. "Uh, I thought Mr. C gave you the morning off?"
"I was going to offer refreshments to our guest." He nods toward the corridor, and I crane my head to see some guy at the far end, standing in front of Sandro's study door and staring at the wall. This must be Brick or Something.
"Let me take a look at him first," I tell Darian. "He's an Esposito."
"He's a guest," Darian says with that stubborn tone that drives me fucking crazy.
"He's asecurity risk. So he's my responsibility. Let me do my job, D. Teamwork makes the dream work, and all that shit."
"But—"
"Listen." I take his hand. I don't know what makes me do it, but he doesn't pull away, although his eyes get a little wider. "It's my job to make sure you're safe. This guy already nearly got Pedretti killed." We all heard about that. Darian has too, by the look on his face. "So just let me scope him out first. Okay?"
After a moment, Darian says, "Okay," in this soft little voice that makes my heart shiver. I give his hand a squeeze and then I head quietly down the hallway to check out the Esposito.
He's about my height, hair a redder brown than mine, and he's pretty solid. Gym-honed muscles. He's fixated on a photo on the wall, reaching out to nudge it straight, and it's only when he steps back again that he sees me—and gives a very satisfying jump.
"Hey," I say.
"Uh. Hey."
"Raffi DeLuca. Head of house security while Pedretti's away."
"Bricker Soldano," he replies, shaking my hand. "They told me to wait out here."
I wait with him. I want him sweating. But a few seconds later, I hear the footsteps I damn well knew I'd hear. Darian's coming down the hall, avoiding my eyes.
"Good morning, Mr. Soldano," he says to the Esposito. "I'm Darian Thornfield-Hayes. I'm the butler here at Redwood, and head of staff. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything you need."
"He's fine," I say.
"I'm fine," Soldano agrees.
But I don't like the way he's giving Darian an up-and-down look. I step forward, putting myself in between them. "You're supposed to have the morning off, D," I remind him softly.
"When there is a guest in the house—" he begins, but I put a hand on his arm and give a warning squeeze.
This isn't a game. Soldano is not a friend, even if he might be a guest, and even if he arrived with Pedretti. I wish Darian was a little less determined to treat everyone who walks into Redwood like a fucking superstar. "I'll let you know if they need anything. Okay?"
I can tell I'm gonna get chewed out later. But he goes, which is a relief. I didn't want to start butting heads in front of the Esposito. And then, behind me, the study door opens and Pedretti comes out.
"DeLuca!" he says. "Was wondering when you'd show up."
I shake his hand because throwing my arms around his neck and sobbing with relief would be a little much. "So you're finally back with us, Pedretti?"
"Not yet, DeLuca. Can you hold down the fort for a little longer?"
Wait—what the fuck? No. No, I can't, not if it means I need to deal with the parley. But I hear myself saying, "You got it."
"Boss told me about this—this upcoming event," Pedretti says carefully. "I know you can handle it, but you give me a call if you need anything. Okay?"
There's not much I can say or do, not in front of the Esposito.
So I just nod.
CHAPTER 7
DARIAN
