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"Ah!" Angelo said, a smile passing over his features as he took the proffered hand and shook it as it desired to be shook. "That may well be the case."
The lady's brow arched in something like surprise. "So, you do not deny it. Excellent. If you would be so kind as to release him from your custody, I would appreciate it greatly."
"Won't you come in for some tea?" Angelo stood aside, sweeping his arm toward the interior of the house is a welcoming gesture.
"Very well, but I warn you, if you attempt to abduct me too, it will go very poorly for you."
"Imagine, a complete set of Spencers," Angelo smiled again. It was not the sort of smile anybody should trust.
The woman stepped over the threshold without any evident fear and looked about herself with an eye that did not seem to be particularly impressed.
Angelo's gaze was more focused, locked on the lanky Englishwoman who moved with a refined gait, her every glance conferring subtle judgment upon whatever it landed.
"Who is…" Bobby emerged from the lounge, tablet in hand, hair tousled and torso shirtless. He'd buttoned his pants, a nod to unexpected company.
"You must be Bobby," Willow said immediately in a not-so-subtle effort to make it clear she had done her research.
"Not another woman," Bobby sighed. "You have to stop with the hookers, Angelo."
Angelo shot a dark look at his boy. "Suffice to say; prostitutes are not a fixture of this house…."
"I couldn't care less if they were," Willow replied with a worldly air. "I am here for my brother. Bring him to me, would you?"
"Oh, this is Digby's sister?" Bobby's lips curled and spread in a very satisfied smile. He had not done his research.
"Get us some coffee, and tea, and biscuits," Angelo ordered. "Ask Buttles if you don't know what biscuits are."
"I really won't be staying long," Willow said, nevertheless entering the living room and taking a seat that had not been offered. "But I will wait until you bring me my brother."
Angelo took a seat in a chair opposite her, swinging one long leg over the other and regarding her with one of his inimitably warm but terribly dark stares. The two stared at one another, looking oddly like two sides of the same coin if that coin had somehow been sheared apart and found itself at odds with itself.
"The thing is, your brother is intent on killing Matilda Braybrooke, and I am just as intent on that not happening. He is flourishing in my custody, I assure you."
"I very much doubt that," she replied. "He is needed in the House of Lords. You cannot simply keep him like a stray dog. I will send the police, if necessary. Mi6 have already taken a special interest."
"If you've come to threaten me, I'm afraid you've grossly misunderstood who I am," Angelo drawled. "Your various agencies and acronyms do not concern me."
"I understand precisely what you are," she said, her dark eyes describing a scornful path up and down the length of Angelo's body. "You are a criminal who preys on the weak. It makes perfect sense Digby would fall into your clutches. But this time, you have inadvertently picked on someone your own size. Me."
Angelo's eyes never left hers. "Have I."
"My father and mother passed some time ago. It has fallen to me to ensure that none of my siblings fall into the grasp of common mobsters."
Insults dripped from her lips, words poisoned with spite and arrogance.
"It would seem you have failed in that regard," Angelo observed calmly, refusing to rise to the obvious bait. "I have enjoyed the company of a number of noble British imports of late."
"Yes, little Tilly Braybrooke is a sweet girl. I'm sure she was suitably terrified of you. My brother Digby is sweet but rather simple. However, I have slain far greater monsters than you, Mr. Vitali."
She put the same sight sneering emphasis on the I, the same way her brother had done before his downfall. Angelo smiled slightly, but yet again, it was not a pleasant smile. It was a calculating smile. It was the sort of smile that invariably leads to screaming and begging from another party.
"So," she said with much more cheer. "Bring me my brother, and we will speak no more about it."
Angelo's head performed a curt shake. "No."
She rose like a regal jack in the box. "No? Mr. Vitali, I am endeavoring to make this as easy as possible for you. But if you insist on making it painful, then I will enjoy that very much. Good day."
She swept out of the house in a swirl of skirt and perfume, leaving behind a lingering scent of lilies. Her visit was so short; Bobby had only just had time to return with a tray of tea and biscuits, only to see her disappearing out the front door again.
