“Then let me make you a plate.” Before he could move, his phone buzzed on the table. He glanced at the screen, his jaw tightening slightly. “Sorry,” he said, rising smoothly. “I have totake this.” He moved to the far end of the room, voice low and sharp as he spoke into the phone.
Ignoring the rapid flow of Italian she could barely make out anyway, Kathleen took the opportunity to fill her own plate, grateful for the excuse to focus on anything but him. Somehow, he seemed to suck all the oxygen out of the room, not to mention ratcheting up the temperature by a few hundred degrees. She sat back down, dropped a black linen napkin into her lap, and covered her legs under the table, where she felt less exposed. Her eyes drifted closed as she took a sip of rich, dark coffee.
Breakfast was divine. Whoever the chef was here, they knew exactly what they were doing. She let herself savor it, each bite grounding her a little more. But, a small part of her couldn’t help being aware of the man on the other side of the room, the way his presence seemed to fill it even when he wasn’t focused on her.
A couple of minutes later, Enzo came back and sat down across from her. He took a sip of his own coffee, settling into his chair with that quiet, unshakable confidence he possessed that made her feel…well, everything. It was as if her senses had been dormant for years, and this man was waking them up, starting with all her most sensitive areas.
“You’re not having breakfast?” Kathleen tried to distract herself from the direction her thoughts were taking.
“I’m good at the moment,” he said easily.
She hesitated, then asked, “So… did you manage to get my brother to see reason?” At the mere mention of Jamie, her stomach tightened. She didn’t want to deal with his anger again. Not that he was angry with her, exactly, but she hated the idea of disappointing her brother, hated being the center of his stress. He’d been stressed about her for years. She didn’t want to bring any more anger or sadness to his life.
“Yes,” Enzo said finally, setting his cup down. “I managed to get him to agree to something I think works for all of us.”
She paused mid-bite and set down her toast. “And what’s that?”
“That I’ll keep an eye on you at all times. No personal security. Just me.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly. She wasn’t entirely sure this was the best compromise. At least not for her. “Seems like a lot to take on.” How would he have time for that? A thought rose… She hated feeling like she had a babysitter.
He raised his coffee mug in a mock toast. “It was me… or the Callahans.”
“Fine,” she muttered. It was clear that arguing against him taking on the task would be useless. And she really didn’t want the Callahans involved. She took another bite of her toast.
Enzo burst out laughing. “Well, with that vote of confidence, how could things possibly go wrong?”
“Sorry,” she said quickly, softening her tone. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. I’d just… prefer to be on my own.”
“Understandable.” His gaze held hers steadily, calm and unyielding. “However, that’s not going to happen. Can we agree to make the best of it?”
Kathleen sighed but nodded reluctantly. “Alright. Well, today I want to?—”
“I’m going to stop you right there,” Enzo interrupted smoothly.
Her head snapped up, brows knitting. “What do you mean, stop me?”
“Today,” he said evenly, “you’re going to pack your bags, and we’re heading to Italy.”
She stared at him. “Wait. I thought this was supposed to be a compromise. Now you’re ordering me around? I don’t want to go to Italy.”
“Kathleen.” His calm voice was laced with something steadier, firmer, that immediately calmed the hysteria rising inher chest. She held her breath. It was a natural reaction to being told what to do. A PTSD reaction of sorts after all those years of being in protective custody, looking over her shoulder, and being whisked off to somewhere else to start life again.
“We’re going to Italy to take care of the Ernie problem.”
She blinked at him. “The… Ernie problem?”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation. “You’re still in possession of a stolen statue. We need to deal with that.”
She put her mug down with a soft clink. “Can’t we just drop it off at the police station?”
His brow arched. “What do you think will happen when you walk into a police station with a stolen statue?”
Kathleen thought back to her exhausting ordeal yesterday, the endless forms, the skeptical stares, and the dismissive way the officers had treated her. The idea of going back and confessing she’d had a stolen statue the whole time made her stomach churn.
“Yeah… no,” she muttered. “Not doing that.”
Enzo read her expression and nodded slightly. “Exactly. It would not go well. The Swiss police can be… very intense.”
