“I do.” His voice caressed her, made her think perhaps she’d taken this a step too far, especially considering the room they’d passed through to get here. She was saved from responding when someone stepped out on the balcony.
“Signore Adami?”
Carlo stepped back, looked toward the open veranda door. “Cos’è?”
“C’è una telefonata. È urgentissima!”
He hesitated, then, “Starò lì, subito!” He took Sydney’s gloved hand. “You will forgive me, signorina, but I have some annoying business that I must attend to. A phone call.”
He bowed over her hand, turned it and pressed his lips to her palm. “Ci vedremo presto, cara mia!”
She forced a smile, watched him leave, then turned her back, pretending to look out over the gardens, ignoring the fat raindrops brought in on the wind. Leaning on the balustrade, her hands clasped together, covering her mouth, she said, “Hope you heard that, because he left in a hurry.”
“I did. He’s got an urgent phone call.” Tex’s voice came in clearly through her earpiece. “Which means he’s probably headed right for his office. You can’t stall him for thirty more seconds?”
“I can try,” she said, then turned on her heel and hurried through the offending room and down the winding double staircase. Carlo was weaving his way through his guests, heading through the main hallway toward the back of the house, when she finally spied him. “Carlo?” He didn’t hear her, and she pushed her way through, calling out again. “Carlo?”
He’d just reached the back passageway, stopped, turned her direction.
Suddenly she doubted herself, doubted her ability to handle anything about this operation. She didn’t know what to say, what wouldn’t tip him off. “I just wanted to…thank you. For showing me your gardens.” Lame, but she was at a loss here.
Carlo gave a perfunctory smile, his gaze sweeping over her as he said, “The pleasure was mine, signorina.”
He left her standing there as he strode out of the salon, then down the hallway toward his office, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard Tex’s voice saying, “All clear. I’m out the window.”
“Thank God,” she said, snatching an iced flute of vodka from a passing waiter, who smiled at her, undoubtedly thinking she was grateful for the alcohol. She took a sip of the burning liquid, then nearly spit it out as she caught sight of a man walking through the front doors. The driver of the BMW who had followed Griffin from the ambassador’s house to the hotel. And he was walking directly toward her.
14
Leonardo Adami glanced at his watch as he crossed the grande salone of his cousin’s palazzo, crowded with insufferable guests. The whole thing should have been canceled, propriety be damned. But Carlo would not hear of it, or rather his wife wouldn’t. She had too many friends to impress, too much of a reputation to keep up, and too tight a rein on the family finances. Had it been up to Leo, he’d have eliminated that little difficulty years ago, he thought, looking up to see a woman in a black Ferragamo dress, standing near the grand staircase.
Something about her seemed familiar, but before he could determine what it was, she turned away, walking toward the loggia. No doubt he’d seen her on the arm of one of the visiting dignitaries, probably in a more intimate setting, the sort they didn’t bring their wives to.
He put her from his mind, weaved his way through the guests to the far wing, up another flight of stairs to the third door on the left, then knocked sharply, before opening the door. His cousin was speaking on the phone, so he walked over to the bar and poured himself a drink.
“You have the money,” his cousin said. “And three days to make it happen, capisce. No more mistakes. And if the doctor balks, show him the picture of his mother’s house in India. That should gain you some cooperation.” His jaw tensed as he listened, then gave a curt “Ciao,” before dropping the phone in the cradle and turning his attention to Leo. “You’re late.”
“We had a few problems.”
“Where’s Alonzo?”
“That would be one of the problems. We followed Griffin from the ambassador’s residence to a hotel. It should have been simple…” He shrugged. “A woman got in the way.”
“Griffin is still alive?”
“And Alonzo is in his custody.”
Carlo walked over to the decanter, poured himself a drink. “Tell me exactly what happened, Leonardo,” he said, walking to the window, looking out to the courtyard below.
It was moments