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“Mr. Angeli took it from me in the elevator.”
I take a mouthful of vodka. “I’m sorry?”
“The message, and the ring. You took them from me in the elevator.”
“What ring?”
Stephan’s face drains of color. “Miss Romano’s ring. It’s there, in your jacket.”
I frown and put my hand in my pocket, and draw out the velvet box. “Oh, you mean this? I’d forgotten about this.”
I throw the box across the room to Cassius, who catches it with a glare. Screwing with people is a habit I have no intention of breaking.
Cassius opens the box and nods appreciatively at the diamond ring. Then he shows it to Lorenzo and me.
I smile broadly. “An engagement ring, for us.”
“No one’s ever proposed to me before,” Lorenzo says, and even Cassius laughs.
“The ring is for Mr. Ferragamo,” Stephan points out, more confused than ever. “And you need to read the letter. I don’t think she intended—”
Cassius speak over him. “When it comes to Miss Romano, anything that she gives one of us is for all of us.”
Stephan’s baffled expression tells me he doesn’t understand, but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t need to.
“Give him the letter,” Stephan says to me.
“The what?”
The poor man is practically in tears. “The letter, the letter! You have her letter.”
I push him toward the elevator. “It’s time for you to go. Say thank you to your mistress for us. It really is a lovely present, and so thoughtful considering it’s her birthday.”
Stephan is still protesting when the elevator doors slide closed.
I turn to Cassius. “I’ve got the letter, but do we really care what it says?”
Cassius takes a thoughtful sip of vodka and gazes out the window at the night. A moment later, he holds out his hand, and I give it to him.
He reads it, and then crumples the letter into a ball with his fist and throws it aside. It bounces on the rug and skitters under the sofa. “No, we don’t care.”
Lorenzo takes my vodka from me and drains the glass. Suddenly, he doesn’t seem interested in hurrying off to whatever blood-soaked activity he left behind.
He pins us with his electric blue gaze. “We know what we’re going to do, don’t we?”
I nod slowly. “We do. But when, and how?”
Cassius glances into his glass and heads for the kitchen. “More vodka. I think we’re going to need the bottle.”
14
Chiara
Iblink, and suddenly I’m staring at the reflection of myself in an expensive satin wedding dress, my hair pinned up and my face carefully accented with makeup.
That’s what it feels like, anyway. The morning of my wedding has dawned and my bridesmaids are here in their pastel gowns. I’ve spent the last night I ever will under this roof, and tonight Salvatore will carry me over the threshold into his home.
“I have to sit down.” I collapse onto the end of the bed and put my head between my knees.
