“You must be Master R’s guests,” he said in a proper British accent.
Nico grinned and took over. “We must,” he replied back in his own knock off version of a British accent.
If the butler was offended, he didn’t show it as he looked down his long, hawk-like nose at us.
“Come,” he gestured for us to step inside. “The master is waiting.”
“I think you guys have died and landed in Downton Abbey,” Ranieri said in my ear which made Nico snort.
“Pardon? Did you say something?” the butler asked, turning slowly to face us.
I glared at Nico, silently urging him to get it the fuck together.
“Just that this house is very nice,” Nico hurried to say in order to cover himself.
The butler turned back around even slower than before as he continued our processional through the house. “It has been his favored place to spend his recreational time in recent years.”
At the end of the long, opulent hallway the butler stopped and turned to us. “I am afraid I must ask you to relinquish your weapons before entering to speak with Master R.”
That hadn’t been a part of the instructions sent to us by Amante’s secretary. I didn’t like being without my gun. It made me feel bare and vulnerable.
As if seeing the reluctance on our faces, the butler continued apologetically: “I understand that this may not be the way you normally do things, gentlemen, but it is a requirement if you are to see the master.”
Begrudgingly, we pulled our pistols out of their shoulder holsters and handed them over to the man.
“All of them, gentlemen,” the butler intoned emotionlessly.
With a sigh, I bent over at the waist to get the smaller pistol strapped to my ankle and Nico did the same.
“Good enough?” I asked once we’d deposited them in the butler’s gloved, waiting hands.
“Not quite,” the butler said as he deposited the guns into a box next to the door and tapped a tablet that was fastened to the walls.
Something popped audibly in my ear, making me wince.
‘The wires,’Nico whispered into my mind and I could feel his unease down the bond we now shared. It wasn’t as intense as I could feel from Cini, the core of our bond, but it was still present nonetheless.
“Apologies, Master R is a very private person, therefore he does not want any potentially uninvited guests listening in to his conversations.”
“Of course,” I said, masking my growing suspicions that this meeting wasn’t what Amante had made it seem.
The butler opened the ornate wooden door and gestured for us to go inside.
We stepped over the threshold into what looked like a dining room. There was a long, darkly wooded table dominating the space and it was completely empty save for the man eating his dinner on the far end.
The man called Mr. R looked like he was in his late fifties, though his bright blue almost silver eyes made me think he was much older. He was dressed in an impeccable dark suit that looked as if it was made just for him.
Other than that he was completely unadorned. He wore no jewelry, not even a watch on his wrist.
“My, I must say you are such punctual young men. A rarity these days,” he said in a British accent that oozed wealth. “Though I must admit I’m surprised. Alessandro told me there would be four of you coming to see me today.”
So Amante had been serious when he told me to bring my entire pack to this meeting. The man must have known I wouldn’t ever leave Cini unguarded, so why had he insisted?
“They had prior responsibilities,” I told him as we sat down on either side of the man and coffee was poured by a woman dressed in a dark skirt and blouse.
“Thank you, Priscilla, that will be all,” Mr. R said, waving her off as he leaned back in his chair to observe us. “I see, caring for that young wife of yours no doubt. That must be a full-time job, so I am sorry to pull you away.”
My back stiffened. It was no secret that we had married Cini—it had been all over the papers after all—but something about the way this man said it made me think there was more to his words than just small talk.
