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I grimaced. “‘Colorful’ is a very diplomatic way of putting it.”
“I take it you’re not a big fan of your mother’s… ‘colorfulness’?”
“No. We’ve been estranged for years.”
“…I’m sorry to hear that.”
He sounded sincere.
I shrugged. “We all have family issues.”
Niccolo gave a short, bitter laugh. “Don’t I know it.”
“Your uncle,” I suggested.
“Yes,” he said, then added with a smirk, “My uncle – and your former employer.”
“Former,” I stressed. “And a one-time deal only.”
He looked thoughtful. “You know, I was curious about something – ”
His cell phone rang.
“Excuse me,” he said, then got up to take the call. He walked to the other side of the parlor and talked quietly with whomever was on the other end.
However, he took his eyes off of me.
Mistake.
I pulled a pin out of my hair and quickly picked the locks on both my handcuffs.
But rather than do anything else, I sat in my chair and continued eating breakfast.
Once he was finished with the call, Niccolo sat back down. “As I was saying – ”
“I’d like to make a point,” I interrupted.
“Which is?”
I held up both of my hands – now free of the handcuffs.
Niccolo’s eyes bugged out, and he frantically pointed his pistol at my head.
“Calm down,” I said gently as I cuffed my left wrist back to the arm of the chair. “I wanted to demonstrate that I could have killed you just now… but I didn’t. Because I truly appreciate Dario forgiving me, and because I bear no ill will towards him or any of you. Lars obviously cares a great deal for you, your brother, and your entire family… and by extension, that means I’ll never hurt any of you.”
Niccolo regarded me with new interest as I clicked the other handcuff onto my right wrist and began eating again.
“Impressive,” he finally said.
“Thank you.”
Niccolo put the gun down on the coffee table – the first time he’d let go of it – and sipped his cup of espresso. “Back to my original question. I’d like to know something.”
“Ask away.”
I expected him to quiz me on MI6 –
But that wasn’t even close.
