Page 133 of The Beast Who Begged Me

I sit behind the desk and call the number. Then I put the phone on speaker and set it between us. Whatever my cousin has to say, Dami will hear it with me.

Marcello answers. I recognize the voice. “Orsini?”

“Hello, Marcello. This is Caligula Clemenza. May I speak to my cousin?”

There’s a brief rustle, then Tiberius says, “Cal. How lovely to hear from you.”

“Considering how poorly my evening went—yes.”

“I take it things improved.” He sounds as though he’s stretched out somewhere comfortable, enjoying the recollection.

“Very much. I’m calling to thank you for saving me—once again. Without your directions, Dami would never have gotten there in time.”

Tiberius laughs softly. Dami turns away from the desk, putting a few feet between himself and the temptation to contribute. “I was concerned about you, you know.”

“You have an unusual way of showing it.”

“Would you have preferred I made a scene? King’s men were rather excitable—as you yourself found out.”

“I would have preferred not to be there at all.”

“And yet you did go. Willingly, I understand.”

I let that pass. “In any case, your information reached Dami. He got us out.”

“Splendid.”

He waits. There’s no hurry in it. He knows exactly what I’ve called to say, and he’ll let me sit here all day until I say it.

This wasn’t a rescue to him, any more than sending Marcello to help Dami was a favor. Those acts were investments. A Clemenza Don who owes Tiberius his life is worth considerably more to him than a dead cousin, particularly now that I have something resembling a Family behind me.

“I owe you,” I say at last.

“What a gratifying thing to hear,” Tiberius says. “Though hardly necessary between cousins.”

I turn the ring once, settling it on my finger. “Could you put Marcello back on, please?”

For the first time, I think I’ve surprised him. “I beg your pardon?”

“Marcello. If he’s still there.”

“He’s here.” His voice becomes a little more distant. “Marcello, darling. My cousin would like a word with you.”

There’s a thudding noise, and then Marcello says, “Don Clemenza?”

“I have a question about a text you sent Dami. The first one. About the auction.”

“As you know, signore, I delete my messages.”

“It’s not about that.” I rest my hand beside the phone. “You used the word ‘advantageous.’ I wondered why.”

“Scusi?”

“You suggested attending the auction would be advantageous to Dami.”

There’s a pause, then a short laugh. “Ah. It was that man.”

Across the room, Dami’s eyes find mine. “What man?” I ask.