The pub—which is just calledPUB—is nothing like Notte Bianca. The ceiling is low, the lights dim and yellowed, the floor permanently tacky under my shoes. It smells like old beer and something vaguely citrusy someone sprayed five minutes ago and hoped would fix everything. It’s the kind of place that survives because people are creatures of habit, not because anyone would ever recommend it.
I would never have associated it with Giovanni.
He seems completely at ease, though. He takes it in with one quick glance, already clocking exits, angles, people. Like nothing here intimidates him, but he’d still rather be cautious.
“Checking for an escape route?” I can’t help but snort. “I doubt the check will be that steep.”
We slide into a secluded booth and sit across from each other. “You wound me, Ms. Price. You should know I’m not the type to drink and dash.”
Ms. Price.The way he says it has my stomach tying itself up in increasingly imaginative knots. “And yet you seemed to think you might have to bolt.”
“Retreat isn’t my preferred strategy, but it is a strategy.” He shrugs. “Always surprise your enemy. Sun Tzu.”
I let out a short breath. “Is that what I am? An enemy?”
He gives me a long, piercing look. “That remains to be seen.”
The bartender wanders over. I don’t wait for Giovanni to speak.
“Two bourbons,” I say. “Neat. Purple label.”
Giovanni turns his head toward me, just a fraction. Something like surprise flickers across his face before he smooths it away.
“You drink bourbon,” he says.
“I do,” I reply. “And you’re paying, so I’m getting the good stuff.”
That earns me a slow shake of his head and an almost-smirk.
His fingers wrap around the glass when it arrives, sure and practiced. I hate that I notice how strong they look, or linger on the vein along the back of his hand.
I hate that I’m a liar.
How did I ever think I could get out of this unscathed?
Giovanni raises his glass. “To new alliances.”
“To finding out who the enemy is,” I toast.
We drink.
The burn settles low in my chest. Or maybe it sharpens everything.
“Rose is safe,” he says.
Relief hits me so fast it makes me dizzy. I grip the edge of the table, anchoring myself.
“Where?” I ask. “With who?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
I lean forward. “You can.”
He doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t move. He just looks at me, calm and immovable. “There are more dangerous forces at play than you understand.”
That’s it.
I push back my chair and stand. “Then I’m going to the police.”
