The tips of three of his fingers were redder than the others. I took the aloe from him and held his hand, palm up, smoothing the slick gel over the reddened fingers so he didn’t have to try and use his nondominant hand to apply it.
He smiled at me. “Stand down. Do you think I’m stupid enough to get close to Roberto’s stove? I accidentally touched a piece of metal that had been baking in the sun. It’s fine. No big deal. It’s my own fault for snooping.”
I glanced up at him. “What do you mean, snooping?”
He turned slightly to point down by the pool, where there was a small flower garden.
“Ah. The little plaques by the roses,” I said with a sigh. Each metal sign was engraved with the varietal and name and date of its acquisition. “I burned my leg on one when I was five. I would replace them, but my grandmother loved them.”
“One of the rosebushes is from the Queen of England,” he said, a tinge of awe in his voice. “Another is from Vraj Nanda. Do you know who that is?”
I nodded, returning my attention to his hurt fingers. “You’ll meet him in a few days. He’s one of the Paxis players.”
When he didn’t respond, I looked up at him. “What?”
“Vraj Nanda, the guy who wroteStillness is a River? He’s part of your nerd herd?”
Jett had refused to conform to my expectations at every turn during our short acquaintance, so maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise that he was familiar withStillness is a River.
But the way he spoke the title with a hushed reverence, like he’d not only heard of the book but read it and been impressed by it, hit me hard.
It made me wonder if Jett was a reader, and if so, what books he liked to read, and whether we’d read any of the same things and could discuss them. It made me wonder what other hobbies and interests Jett had, and how much there was to him that I didn’t know?—
Alarm bells clanged in my mind.
The reason I’d brought Jett—a sex worker, a former go-go dancer, aman—to Italy was so I wouldn’t have to divide my attention between my sex partner and the Paxis tournament. The whole point was to bring someone who knew the score and was being well compensated, so there’d be no expectations on either side.
And now here I was, distracted and intrigued when I most needed to get my head in the game.
I released Jett’s hand and tossed the remains of the aloe leaf on the table before returning to my meal. “I’m really hoping you don’t refer to them that way when they arrive,” I said stiffly.
He took the seat next to mine. “Who else is coming? Besides the ones you already mentioned on the way here.”
I swallowed a bite of omelette before answering. “I thought you went over the room assignments with Concetta.”
“I did. And she said things like, ‘The Hartmanns are in the yellow suite,’ and, ‘Saleem and his wife prefer a view of the garden.’” Jett rolled his eyes. “I guess I didn’t catch on to the fact that ‘the Nandas’ referred to a famous spiritual leader.”
I shrugged. “I told you it was a gathering of powerful people.”
He waited for me to say more, but I didn’t. He’d see soon enough who else was coming.
And now that I thought about it, it was probably for the best that he didn’t know too much in advance.
While I didn’t think Jett would betray the NDA he’d signed with me, I’d be stupid not to remember that he was a player who’d probably learned to manipulate others for his own survival.
His entire career was about making men like me feel wanted. Feel seen and understood. That was how he got paid.
This was a job to him.
Iwas a job to him.
The reminder soured my mood, but it was necessary.
“I have a lot of calls today,” I said, shoving another bite of food in my mouth. “You’ll need to find a way to entertain yourself.”
Jett frowned. “I can help with your calls, if you want. Just put me to work.”
I shook my head once. “These are private calls. If you can’t amuse yourself, ask Concetta what help she needs for the house party.”
