CHAPTER 31
CALIGULA
Everything happens so fast,I don’t have the time to respond—or the liberty. Damiano’s hand on my shoulder is forceful as a boulder, keeping me in my seat, so all I can do is watch my cousin get covered in tea and food while Marcello springs like a jaguar to stand in front of Dami’s gun.
For a moment, no one speaks, and Dami and Marcello seem to be in a frozen standoff, Dami’s gun pointed at Marcello’s chest, Marcello mirroring his stance…
Except that Marcello’s gun isn’t pointed at Dami.
It’s pointed at me.
“Drop it,” Damiano spits.
“I’m afraid he won’t listen to anyone but me,” Tiberius says, sitting up with a sigh. “This kimono is from the eighteenth century, Mr. Orsini. I hope you treat your own possessions with more care.” He looks at me and smiles, even as he wrings tea from his sleeve. “You want to train your attack dog a little better, cousin.”
“I like that he has a mind of his own. I’m not threatened by other people’s autonomy.”
Tiberius just laughs. “You might regret that one day.”
Damiano pulls his lips back from his teeth in that feral snarl he gets sometimes. I’ve noticed it only a few times—at the Obelisk, on the steps of the townhouse—but only now does the connection click into place.
He makes that face when someone threatensme.
“Tell your man to get his gun off Don Clemenza,” Dami says, “or your outfit is gonna get stained beyond repair.”
“Marcello,” Tiberius says mildly, “stand down.”
Immediately, the silver-haired Marcello lowers his gun and moves aside.
“You got a problem with me, you come atme,” Dami snarls at him. “For future fucking reference.”
“Why bother, when my cousin makes such a useful bargaining chip?” Tiberius says. “Now, perhaps you’ll be so kind as to point your own gun elsewhere?”
Because Dami is still aiming at him, and he doesn’t move. Not until I reach up and touch the hand still gripping my shoulder. Only then does he finally lower the weapon, although the look on his face suggests he’d still like to kill my cousin.
“Well, you have your answer,” I say. “What would I do if your plan was to murder me and assimilate my people into the remnants of yours? I’d try to prevent it.”
Tiberius strips off the stained kimono altogether, revealing a bare torso and boxer briefs underneath. He’s toned, slim but defined, and I can’t help glancing at Damiano to see if he’s…
Well.Looking.
He’s not. He’s watching Marcello.
“As you say, I have my answer,” Tiberius agrees. He flicks aside a prosciutto-wrapped fig and sits again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, hair sweeping over his shoulder, and fixes his eyes on me. “I just wondered, cousin. Because if you’re finished with your toys, I’ll be very happy to take your hand-me-downs.”
“I’m still playing,” I tell him. “You’ll have to amuse yourself some other way.”
At that, he gives a wide grin. “Easily done. There are so many distractions in New York. That’s why I came back,” he adds, glancing at Dami. “I was bored.”
Damiano turns his furious eyes on Tiberius, and I can tell whatever he’s about to say is not going to help. So I wriggle out from under his hand and stand. “I hope we’ve brought some fun into your morning,” I say. “But we should be going.”
“Yes,” Tiberius says, standing as well. “I imagine you have a lot to do. I’ll see you out. Marcello, darling, stay there.”
Marcello doesn’t even move as we leave the room, except for his eyes, which follow Dami. He doesn’t seem angry or agitated.
Just watchful.
“It’s been lovely to meet you,” Tiberius says as he opens the door for us. “Do call on me again when you can.”
