Loppa reached across my line of vision and pulled the phone from my hands. His frown held a hint of amusement, but he shook his head at me anyway.
Busted. “You’d do the same thing,” I told him.
“You’ll learn the language faster by hearing it and understanding it, not translating it.”
My glare was a language of its own. One that made Loppa shift uncomfortably.
“They are making travel plans, we can’t stay in Milan.”
“You’d think a member of government would have better security,” I muttered.
“His team are amateurs.” Loppa’s smug chin shifted higher into the air. “Come, I think you need a break.”
He led me to a space two floors down. Firenze lounged on a long couch while a few of Don Valentini’s guards monitored the security feeds in an adjacent room.
“I thought we were going outside.” It came out as a pout.
“Not an option. You are homesick. Pick a movie.” Loppa handed me the remote for the television and with it, my phone.
I wasn’t homesick, was I? I glanced at my phone to see if Ellie had called.
Damn. He nailed my problem with deadly accuracy. I picked up the remote determined to not blush beet red.
As I scrolled through the thumbnails, a familiar mask stood out. I paused on it. I’d never actually seen the opera or the movie. Perhaps?
“Loppa, do you like opera?”
“Bella signora, opera is in the life blood here.”
Good. I tapped play.
Loppa was the armchair-commentator type movie watcher. Firenze was the silent observer. I was somewhere between and Loppa switched to English for most of his criticism.
“This is not an opera.”
“The music, ugh…repetitive.”
“Their swords are dull.”
But about half-way through both Firenze and Loppa shifted to the edge of their seats.
“That is ridiculous! Use a garrote you idiot.”
Firenze’s softer voice commented, and I couldn’t make out what he said.
“What is wrong with that?”
Loppa pulled the remote from my hand and jogged the scene to the beginning. “Okay. She tells him to keep his hand at the level of his eyes. Good.”
Firenze held up his hand to illustrate.
“But, a noose? Please. You can’t conceal it; you can’t loop it quickly enough. And it is much harder to push a garrote away. One must turn into the pull.”
“Sorry?”
“Let’s demonstrate,” Firenze offered.
He stood, just like the love interest did.
