“Don’t be naïve,mon amour. He is a man of power, and there are always ways.” She sniffed lightly. “You still need my help.”
“I don’t—”
“Youdo. I won’t have Roberto’s pettiness derail plans so long in the making.” She nodded as if to herself. “Call me if there are problems.” She rattled off her phone number. “But I will come and check on you from time to time.” She stepped in close and pressed her hand to his chest, fingertips resting against his skin in the V of his robe. “You will need me again, before this is all done.”
“What can you do?” he asked. “Are you not also bound by the neutrality of the Curia?”
“Of course.” She smiled playfully, trailing her fingers across his chest as she turned away, hips swaying as she walked to the door. “But rules are just rules. Didn’t I teach you that?”
*
Cally sighed.
“That sounded heavy,ma chérie. Is something amiss?”
They were lying in bed, the sheets still damp from their lovemaking, her warmth pressed against him.
“I’m worried about my dad,” she said into his chest.
Antoine traced circles with his fingertips against the curve of her ass, his arm running the length of her back. “Why?”
“Darian told me they would wipe his 401k. I don’t know if they have—I’ve been too scared to call him and ask, and I’m not sure if he would tell me something like that. Plus, the Order knows where he lives.”
“Well, we can’t have that, can we?”
“But what can we do about it? It’s only a matter of time until they realize Darian is missing, and that’ll lead them to Nico, too.” She raised her head, propping her chin on him. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
“What, Nico? Not particularly. They’re not going to let him out, are they?” He slid her to the side and rose from the bed, padding naked across the room.
She watched him with open interest. “What are you doing?”
“Making a phone call.” He pulled Darian’s phone from the top drawer of the dresser, unlocked it with the pin Darian had so kindly agreed to share, and scrolled the contacts. “What did you say that man’s name was? Mr. Alexander?”
Cally sat up in the bed, clutching the duvet to her. “Wait. You’re going tocallhim?”
“I intended to, but there’s no listing for him.” Antoine paused. “Huh. One entry under ‘PV’. Remind me of that title?”
“Primus Vigil.”
“845 area code.” Antoine pulled up a browser and did a quick search. “That’s Hudson Valley. Sound about right?”
“Yes,” Cally said tentatively, her gaze reflecting her concern. “What are you going to say?”
“Going to wing it,” Antoine muttered, and dialed the number. It was 11:15 p.m., but he figured the call would be answered from this phone. It rang several times, then he was proven right.
“Darian,” an irritated voice said. “Do you know what time it is?”
“Yes, I do, and it’s not Darian.” Antoine flicked the call to speaker so Cally could hear. “I presume this is Mr. Alexander?”
A pause. “Who is this?”
“Anthony Du Pont. I’ll give you a moment to check my name.” Across the room, Cally bit her lip, eyes stark with apprehension. He winked at her and walked over, flopping down onto the bed with the phone between them.
“I know who you are. How did you get this… Why do you have Darian’s phone?”
“I imagine you can deduce that for yourself.”
Another pause. “Is he alive?”
