Page 82 of The Beast Who Begged Me

Dami bends and kisses my temple, just next to the sore spot from the loupe. “He is.” I gulp down my coffee, then follow him out with the ring closed in my hand.

Sammy is in, but not awake. I wait in the kitchen while I hear Dami’s shouting from his rooms above, and eventually Sammy and Ricky both come down the stairs into the kitchen, herded by Dami.

“Jesus, Damiano,” Sammy snaps at last. “We had a late night. Keep it down, would you?”

We had a late night, too, so I just glare at Dami when he opens his mouth to snarl something unhelpful.

“I’ll make you some coffee,” Rosa says, bustling around to the espresso machine. Sammy and Ricky sit near me at the kitchen table, and Dami leans against the counter, glaring at Ricky, who remains oblivious.

He’s too busy staring at Sammy, smiling every time Sammy catches his eye.

“Damiano said you wanted something?” Sammy says to me with a sigh, once he’s got an espresso in front of him.

I open my hand, show him the ring. “Can you help me with this? I’ve been trying to read the engraving inside, but it’s too small. I can’t make it out. Dami said you had a camera that might do better?”

He puts his coffee down, already peering at the ring in my palm. “Yeah. The macro lens. It’s pretty intense. Should be able to make something out.” He stands again. “Come on, we can try it now.”

“Why don’t you stay down here, Benedetti?” Dami growls. “Have this coffee that Rosa’s making for you. Be polite.”

Ricky, who was already half rising, glances at Sammy, who rolls his eyes. “Sure, Mr. Orsini,” Ricky says with a smirk, and takes his seat again. “I could use some caffeine.”

In Sammy’s art room, he clears a space on the table near the window and starts pulling equipment out of a padded case while explaining which lens he wants and why.

I understand about a quarter of it.

“Can I?” Sammy holds out his hand, and I give him the ring. He settles it on a piece of dark fabric with more care than I’ve shown it all morning, then bends to look through the camera.

The first photograph produces a large gold blur on his laptop. Sammy adjusts the lamp and tries again, frowning at the bright reflection across the inside of the band. I keep my mouth shut, which takes some effort.

“It’ll need a bit of fucking around,” he says. “The light’s tricky, and I need to get the inside in focus. Then I can enlarge it and see what we’ve got.” He looks up at me. “Give me twenty or so?”

“Of course.” I step back so I’m no longer breathing down his neck. “Thank you, Sammy.”

He gives me a small smile. “Tell Ricky I’ll be down when I’m done. Damiano’s being real weird about him, don’t you think?”

“I do,” I agree, and we share a grin. “I’ll keep Dami off his back until you’re done.”

He nods, then bends over the camera again, already reaching to move the light. I rub my bare finger with my thumb as I head back down to the kitchen to rescue Ricky from Damiano’s Medusa-like glare.

I think if Dami could turn him into stone, he probably would. But Sammy finally seems like he’s coming into his own, and I think Ricky has a lot to do with that.

Sammy comes down after only fifteen minutes, and Dami and I take him into the study. Ricky’s still eating his way through one of Rosa’s breakfasts.

Sammy is holding a few photographs, and looks perplexed. “It’s a bunch of words,” he says when we get to the study. “But they don’t really mean anything.”

Sammy lays the photographs across the desk. Every tiny flaw in the gold has become a crater. He sets the ring itself on one of the prints, absurdly small against the enlarged curve of its own band. Then I look closer, and the scratches become letters. Actual letters, forming actual words. I pull the first photograph toward me.

“That’s where it starts,” Sammy says, pointing. “Underneath the snake’s head. I had to turn it a little at a time, but there’s some overlap so you can follow it around.”

“Holy shit. This is amazing. Thank you, Sammy.” I look up at him, and for the first time in my life, I earn a full smile from him.

Dami slaps him on the shoulder. “Good work.”

He comes around the desk to look over my other shoulder, and the three of us crowd together while I read my grandfather’s secret at last. I’m still twitchy about having anyone else see it. But I trusted Sammy with this, and Dami…

I have no secrets from him now.

The first word is window. The next is fabric.