by Monica Burns
“So that’s how you got them to Rennes-le-Château so quickly,” she exclaimed with a small laugh. “I always wondered how you’d arranged it. And it explains why Seneca was so furious with you the next day before you left.”
“He didn’t stay angry for long when I told him I intended to blood bond with you.” His words made her jaw sag as she stared at him in astonishment.
“I didn’t know you’d told him that. He never said anything.”
“I told him I’d not spoken to you about it.”
“But we barely knew each other.” She could feel the blush rising in her cheeks as he sent her a look of amused disbelief.
“I knew every beautiful inch of you by morning.”
“You know what I mean. One night in bed together doesn’t constitute the strongest foundation for a blood bonding ceremony.”
“It wasn’t the sex that made me want to bond with you, Atia. Although what happened in the kitchen a little while ago was an excellent reminder of how good it’s always been between us.” He eyed her intently as he spoke, and it was a look she knew well. He was about to lay down a boundary. “I bonded with you because I loved you from the first moment I saw you, and I wasn’t going to let anyone or anything stand in my way until you were mine, then or now.”
It was a firm, inflexible boundary. An emphatic statement that said he intended to have his way in the present, just as he had in the past. She flinched. How was she supposed to fight such determination, especially when he’d made it clear that he still loved her? That above anything else was enough reason to surrender. She dropped her gaze and picked at her salad with her fork.
“You’ve not lost your touch for fixing a meal with the least amount of ingredients. It looks delicious,” she said quietly.
When he didn’t answer her, she forced a smile to her lips and looked up at him. The frown on his face puzzled her. She’d expected to arouse his anger by deliberately changing the subject, but he seemed more worried than angry. Even more troubling was the flash of fear she saw in his cerulean blue eyes. He picked up his fork and took a bite of salad.
“And you’ve improved the art of changing the subject.”
His eyes met hers across the flickering candlelight. It brought back memories of other times when he’d surprised her with a romantic candlelight meal. She averted her gaze and twirled several strands of fettuccine around her fork.
“Did Luciano finish making all the arrangements for Sandro?”
“Yes, and with the improvements that have been made to the research lab’s security, I believe the document from the Tyet of Isis is as safe as we can make it.”
“The Council is frightened,” she murmured. “And I can’t blame them. There have always been spies in the Order, but this was a Sicari murdered on our own ground. The last time anything like this happened . . .”
She stared down at her plate as the memories threatened to overtake her. A strong hand grasped hers, and she clung to it as though it were a life vest. She lifted her gaze to meet his. There wasn’t any need to speak, because his eyes told her that everything she was feeling, he was feeling, too. They sat like that for a long moment, before Marcus released her hand and leaned back in his chair.
“I suppose the Council’s instructed you to find the killer.”
“Yes, although they know it’s unlikely I’ll be able to do so.”
“Other than those of us who were in Rome, have there been any new arrivals to the estate?”
“Not that I’m aware of. There aren’t even any outside guild members here on vacation.” She shook her head. “And we’ve not had anyone new transferred here in more than a year.”
“Then that means whoever killed Sandro has been on the estate for a while.” Marcus grimaced, and she saw his jaw clench. “We need to find a way to flush the traitor out.”
“We can use the document to do that.” She saw resistance cross his features, and she leaned forward. “We both know it’s what they’re after, so we taunt them with it. We keep working at deciphering it. And whether we’re close to unraveling what the damn thing says or not, we let everyone, including the bastardo who killed Sandro, think we’re on the verge of solving the puzzle.”
“No. Doing that puts you in harm’s way,” he ground out in a tight voice.
“What about you? You’re not invincible.”
“I never said I was, but your abilities are limited, despite our blood bond. I refuse to put you at risk like that.”
“To paraphrase my . . . our daughter, every Sicari is at risk all the time. I’m no different. The Prima Consul can be replaced.”
“But I can’t replace you.” His words echoed harshly in the room. “If you think I’m just going to let you offer yourself up as bait, you can think again.”
“You don’t really have any say in the matter, do you?” she said calmly as she took another bite of fettuccine.
When he didn’t answer, she looked across the table at him. Thunderstruck . It was the only word that came to mind as she stared at the expression on his face. She quickly ducked her head to hide her smile. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him speechless before.
“What in Jupiter’s Stone does that mean?” he snapped.
“This is my world, Eminence. And unless you’re going to announce yourself to the Council as the reigning Sicari Lord, I’m afraid you’ll have to control your tendency to order others about. Particularly me.”
She raised her head and met his glare with one of her own. This was her guild. She was the leader of the Order, and unless he was willing to step forward and acknowledge that the Absconditus existed, he had no real power here. For once she was in charge. And he knew it. His eyes narrowed as he fixed his harsh gaze on her.
“By the gods, you’re a stubborn woman, Atia Vorenus.”
His flatware rattled loudly against his plate as he shoved his chair away from the table and stood up. Hands braced on the table, his face was dark with frustration as he glared at her. Not about to let him intimidate her, she continued eating her meal. After a long moment, he released a violent sound and stalked away.
He was every inch the Sicari Lord as he paced the carpet. Tall, regal, and proud. He was far from happy with her at the moment. And he’d be even less happy when she told him that she didn’t want things to go back to the way they’d been all those years ago. She quietly laid her fork on her plate and turned in her chair.
“Marcus, I think we need to come to an understanding. I’ve made a new life for myself since we were blood bonded.” She watched him draw up short, his mouth open in protest. Deus, if only she had the fortitude to let him overrule her, but she didn’t. She shook her head. “Loving you is easy. It always was. But neither one of us can erase the past—no matter how hard we try.”
“I’m not trying to erase the fucking past,” he snarled.
“I didn’t say you were. I’m saying we can’t go back to that time before Gabriel was taken from us,” she bit out with frustration as she sprang to her feet.
“I’m not trying to relive the past, Atia. I’m just trying to enjoy what’s left of my life with the woman I love. I want to grow old with you.”
“It’s not possible.” The words were hard and inflexible even to her ears.
“I don’t believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe, Marcus. What matters is that I’m saying no.”
“Then explain it to me. Tell me why it’s not possible.”
“Because we blame each other for what happened, and that won’t ever go away,” she cried out in a bitter voice.
The blood drained from his face as his eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t identify. She thought it might be fury, but it could just as easily have been pain. It was impossible to tell. The silence in the room stretched thin as an ancient parchment about to crumble under the strain.
“I never said I blamed you,” he said in a wooden voice.
“You didn’t have to say it,” she said wi
th resignation as she rubbed her temples. The beginnings of a headache had set in, and she wanted to go to bed. It had been a long, emotional day.
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Atia.” His expression was hard and icy. “I never blamed you, but that’s the second time in less than a month you’ve blamed me for Gabriel’s kidnapping.”
“I don’t blame you.”
“Then exactly what is it you find me guilty of?”
“Deus, I refuse to do this now,” she snapped. “I’m tired and too much has happened today.”
He took a step toward her, and the violent anger radiating off of him was like a raging bonfire. Hot and fierce. The way he was leaning into her made her swallow hard, and the sudden chime of the apartment’s doorbell caused her to close her eyes with relief. When the chime sounded again, she started toward the suite’s front door. As she passed Marcus, he caught her arm.
“Don’t.”
It was more a plea than a command, but she didn’t have the courage to do as he asked. Instead, she tugged free of his grasp and walked toward the door. She understood him well enough to know that even this brief interruption wouldn’t stop him from trying to wear down her resistance.
Chapter 11
ATIA opened the door to see Ignacio standing in the corridor, his expression grim. A tremor shot through her, as her first thought was of Cleo.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Cleo’s still in Rome,” he snapped as he brushed his way past her into the room.
“What do you mean she’s still in Rome?” she gasped in horror.
Cleo should have been back in Chicago by now. The temporary guild she’d established to find the Tyet of Isis had been disbanded over a week ago, and all its members had returned to their respective guilds. Her Celeris moved deeper into the suite then jerked to a halt at the sight of Marcus standing in the center of the living room. She saw Ignacio glance toward the remains of the candlelight meal in the dining area before he turned back to her.
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Ignacio asked. The fury in his voice shouldn’t have shocked her, but it did. She knew Ignacio cared for her, but she was slowly beginning to realize his feelings were even stronger than she’d suspected.
“You don’t have the right to ask that question,” she said in a stilted voice.
“You’re right. I don’t,” Ignacio said bitterly. “But as someone who cares for Cleo as if she were my own child, I want to know why you allowed him to approve her staying on in Rome when she’d finished her assignment.”
The Celeris jerked his head in Marcus’s direction as his accusation sounded like a bomb going off in the room. Stunned, Atia stood frozen in place. Her gaze flew to Marcus’s impassive expression, and she saw a flicker of emotion in his blue eyes. It was true. He’d given Cleo permission to remain in Rome.
“Why would you do such a thing?” she said fiercely. “Why would you allow her to stay in that viper’s nest?”
“She didn’t leave me much choice.” Marcus’s response drew a snort of disbelief from Ignacio, but Marcus still hadn’t even acknowledged the man’s presence.
“Choice?” she asked in disbelief. “One word from you and she would have done as you ordered. Haven’t we lost enough already? Did you have to put the only child we have left in harm’s way?”
“And if I’d ordered her home?” Marcus growled with a ferocity that startled her. “I would have lost all hope of ever being a part of her life, and you would have found it difficult to convince her that you didn’t have a part in my summoning her home.”
The reality of his words sank in as she struggled to understand why her daughter would have chosen to remain in Rome. What had possessed Cleo to stay behind? Her identity wouldn’t be a secret to the Praetorians, which meant she was courting danger wherever she went in the city. Atia closed her eyes at the horrible possibilities taking shape in her head. Suddenly, she drew in a quick breath. Cleo had had an assignment. She sensed Ignacio’s acute discomfort, and she jerked her head toward him.
“You gave her an assignment?” Atia gasped in outrage.
“Yes,” he said with a grimace. “I agreed to it months ago when she passed some important information to the tribunal. I would never have given her the assignment if I’d known she was planning on staying in the city afterward.”
“Who in the name of Jupiter could be so important a target that she’d ask for an assignment so far away from home?”
“His name is Angotti. He’s a small-time crime boss in the Rome syndicate that works for the Praetorians.”
“If he’s so unimportant, why would Cleo feel the need to perform the task herself?”
“Because over the past three years she’s been manipulating all her assignments. With the exception of two or three people, all of her targets have committed crimes involving children.”
“What?” Atia gasped in horror.
“Are you certain of this?” Marcus snapped as he took a step toward the Celeris.
“Yes.” Ignacio darted a glance first at Marcus and then at Atia as he nodded with a grave expression. “I asked her about it before she went after Angotti. She said it wasn’t a vendetta, and I believed her. Now I’m not so sure.”
“What do you mean you’re not so sure?” Atia glared at her bodyguard. If anyone suspected Cleo of performing her assignments outside the Sicari Code, they’d have her brought up on charges before the Council. And she had no intention of sentencing her own daughter to run the gauntlet if she could help it.
“She didn’t have a partner with her when she assassinated Angotti. She went alone,” Ignacio said with a dark frown.
“She went alone?” Her stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought of her daughter’s reckless behavior. She swayed on her feet, and both men stepped toward her. With a hiss of anger and fear, she waved them aside as she looked at Marcus. “Did you know about this?”
“That she went alone? No,” Marcus said as he shot Ignacio a hard look then shoved a hand through his silver-tinted hair. “But I’m glad I told Dante she was still in the city. I knew he’d watch out for her without my asking him to. And I wouldn’t have agreed to her staying in Rome if she hadn’t been with Dante.”
“Sweet Juno, I should never have let Lysander convince me to send her to Rome with him. None of this would have happened if she’d stayed here.”
She rubbed her temple as the throbbing in her head increased. Invisible fingers pushed hers aside as Marcus took over the task of massaging her forehead. It felt wonderful. She closed her eyes for a brief moment and welcomed the swift relief brought by his unseen touch.
“I want her brought home, Marcus. I want her safe,” she whispered.
“Dante will keep her safe, and she’s a skilled fighter. She held her own in the Pantheon despite her lack of abilities.” Marcus’s voice indicated he wasn’t about to change his mind. “If we send for her now, carissima, you’ll only widen the gulf between the two of you, and I’ll lose all hope of knowing my daughter.”
He was right. She knew that. But the logic warred with her maternal instinct to protect her child. She’d failed Gabriel, and she couldn’t bear to do the same with Cleo. An image of Marcus and Gabriel in the Pantheon fluttered through her head. It took her breath away as she remembered those terrible moments.
Gabriel and Marcus fighting each other so viciously. Then Gabriel striking his father down. Her own plea for Marcus’s life only to see Gabriel sink to the stone floor from the fatal blow of Marcus’s sword. The pain of that moment pressed its way into every inch of her until it felt as though someone were ripping her heart out all over again.
She’d already lost her son. She couldn’t lose her daughter, too. First one tremor and then another rippled through her. Instantly, Marcus enveloped her in his warmth, and she pressed her face into his shoulder.
“It will be all right, mea kara. I have great faith in Dante and in our daughter. She will be fine.”
The soothing caress of
his thoughts mingling with hers eased Atia’s trembling. Slowly, she pushed herself free of Marcus’s embrace. As her gaze met his, she recognized the sorrow in his blue eyes. She was certain he was remembering Gabriel’s kidnapping. The loss of their son had cost both of them so much.
Losing Cleo would be no less painful, and as agonizing as it was to admit, Marcus was right. If she had any hopes of mending her quarrel with Cleo, she couldn’t demand her daughter’s return without just cause. Deus, Ignacio should never have let Cleo take on her most recent mission. She turned to her bodyguard.
“How could you have been so shortsighted as to give Cleo that assignment just after we’d fought Nicostratus in the Pantheon?” she asked with a growing sense of outrage.
“I’m not a mind reader, Madame Consul. As I said, I had no reason to believe she wouldn’t leave the city once the mission was complete. I made a mistake.”
“A mistake I could expect of someone less experienced, but you, Ignacio? You know better.”
“Are you implying I deliberately put Cleo in harm’s way?” The cold anger in Ignacio’s voice emphasized how much her comment had insulted him. She frowned. It didn’t surprise her that he was offended, but he displayed no remorse either. It wasn’t like him. She shook her head as she tried to reassure him that she was merely disappointed in his actions.
“Of course not,” she responded with regret. “I know you wouldn’t do anything of the sort. Sandro’s murder has me on edge. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too, because it tells me that you no longer trust my judgment,” Ignacio said. “Therefore you shall have my resignation on your desk by tomorrow morning.”
Stunned by his declaration, Atia shook her head in protest as her Celeris bowed sharply then turned and walked toward the door. She took a quick step forward.
“Ignacio, please. I don’t want you to resign. You know how much I rely on you. I need you.”
His hand holding the door open, Ignacio turned slightly in her direction. Bitterness had hardened his features into a cold mask as he looked at Atia then to the man behind her and back to her again.