As we trailed behind him, I shot a look at Cosimo. He gave me an encouraging nod. We were finally getting somewhere.
We descended a few steps and entered a space that smelled a little damp. With the flick of a light switch, the room came into focus.
It took me only a second to realize we’d stumbled into a treasure trove.
There were at least fifty items in here, all by Quaranta.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. “You have a whole collection.”
Nunzio nodded, his hands linked in front of him. “We’ve been collecting his work ever since his workshop was destroyed in that fire. It’s a bit of a treasure hunt. A lot of his pieces are in private homes in the area, and others got mixed up with work that wasn’t his.”
He led me to a jar painted in yellow and red pigment that had intricate cracks along the side. “This is the one I wanted to show you.”
“Incredible,” I breathed, my awe completely genuine. “I know you said it isn’t for sale, but—” I glanced at Cosimo and then back at Nunzio. “We’re here on our honeymoon. Bringing something like this home would mean so much to us.”
The artisan winced. “I’m truly sorry. It’s already been reserved for someone else.”
I sighed. “Ah, that’s too bad.”
“I can keep an eye out if anything like it comes our way again,” he offered.
“But that’s pretty unlikely, isn’t it?”
“It is,” he admitted. “This is a very rare piece.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I know this is unusual, but can you possibly tell me who reserved it? Maybe I could contact them directly and see if they’re willing to sell. I’d be happy to pay extra for the inconvenience.”
Tension crept into his face, just as it had with everyone else we’d spoken to that day. “I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Are you sure? I mean?—”
“Nunzio.” A rough voice cut through the air. “Che succede? Non dovresti portare nessuno qui.”
I turned. Another man stood on the threshold of the room. He was broader than Nunzio, older, and had the same set to his jaw. He didn’t look very happy to find us here.
Nunzio straightened beside me. “Salvatore.” There was a note of quiet appeal in his voice. “Li ho fatti entrare io. Sono qui in luna di miele.”
Salvatore’s eyes moved over Cosimo and me with open suspicion. “I’m going to have to ask you to step out.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to get Nunzio in trouble.” I gave him my brightest, most harmless smile. There was enough resemblance between the two men that I was fairly sure they were related. “I was just really interested in Quaranta’s work, and you have such a remarkable collection.”
Salvatore’s expression didn’t budge. “Nothing here is for sale.”
“Yes, Nunzio explained that. I was just asking him whether it might be possible to get the name of the person who reserved this piece—maybe their contact information—so we can try to work something out?”
I’d expected a firm refusal. What I hadn’t expected was for Salvatore to start toward me in a way that felt unmistakably threatening.
“You need to leave,” he said again.
“Look—” I began, but before I could finish, Cosimo stepped in front of me.
“You’re acting like we asked for a state secret.” His voice had dropped into the same chilling register he’d used with Peter at Gino’s funeral. “We’re looking to make a transaction. Possibly one your client would be very happy about.”
“Our client is determined to own this piece.”
“And I am determined to make my wife happy on our honeymoon.”
To my horror, he took a step toward Salvatore, bringing them aggressively close to each other.
