by Monica Burns
“Marcus is someone I knew a long time ago. I was startled to hear his name.”
“Did he know Father?” Cleo’s expression was one of curious speculation.
“Yes, he did, as a matter of fact.” It was always best to tell the truth as much as possible.
“And the child?”
“So many questions.” She frowned. “There are some things only the Prima Consul is privy to. You know that.”
“I get that,” Cleo said with a disgusted look. “But I’ve never seen you react like that to anything before. Are you in some sort of trouble?”
“Your imagination is far too vivid, carissima. It startled me to hear from Marcus.” She forced a smile to her lips.
“Obviously. I can’t remember the last time you said fotte. In fact, I can’t remember you ever saying it until tonight. That’s two firsts in the space of five minutes.”
“All right. I think we’ve now established the fact that I said the word,” Atia snapped. “Might we move on to a different subject? Perhaps the topic of sleep? Something we’ve both had little of tonight. Lysander isn’t in need of rescue, and I would like a little more sleep.”
She knew that wasn’t going to happen. There was no possible way she’d be able to sleep now. Now that Marcus had found Gabriel. She winced, and Cleo sent her a suspicious look.
“Why do I think you’re up to something?”
“I am not up to anything. I simply want to rest.” Exasperated, she sent her daughter a stern look. “And unless I’m mistaken you were still up when Marco woke up the house.”
“I couldn’t sleep.” Cleo’s gaze shifted away from hers. It made her heart ache for her daughter.
“Again? He’s not worth losing sleep over, carissima.”
“I wasn’t losing sleep over Michael.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Because you’re my mother, and you’re terrified I won’t ever blood bond with anyone.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She sniffed indignantly. “I don’t care whether you exchange a blood bond with someone or not. Your happiness is all that matters to me.”
“I am happy. You just don’t want to accept that I’m not ready for any type of commitment.”
“And it’s the why that concerns me.”
“There is no why, Mother. I’m doing what men have been doing for centuries. I’m playing the field and making up for lost time on behalf of the female sex.”
Atia closed her eyes at Cleo’s flip, yet stubborn, denial. She knew just how much her
daughter had loved Michael Giordano, and when the bastardo had betrayed her … the thought made her wince. Cleo had never tolerated people who lied to her.
A shiver skated down her back. What would she do if she ever learned her mother had been lying to her since she was a baby? Deus, she should have told her the truth years ago. What good would it have done? Her eyes flew open as Cleo touched her shoulder then leaned over to kiss her cheek.
“Get some rest, okay?” Cleo said as she headed out of the room. With the door open, she paused. “I love you, Mamma.”
“I love you, too, carissima.”
The love in her daughter’s eyes made Atia’s heart ache as she watched the bedroom door close behind Cleo. Tired, she pinched the bridge of her nose as she picked up her cell phone off the nightstand. With a tap of the screen, the phone displayed a colorful wallpaper and the time. Six fifteen. It would be dawn soon. She stared at the screen of the phone until it dimmed.
Restless, she stood up and paced the floor. She knew she needed to go back to bed, but the idea of lying down to do nothing more than toss and turn was far from appealing. Palatine Hill. It had been more than ten years since she’d last visited La Terrazza del Ninfeo. She’d gone there to think before she accepted the mantle of Prima Consul. There was a peaceful serenity about the crumbling aviary that always soothed her senses. It helped her think.
She released a derisive laugh at the bittersweet sensation drifting through her. No. It wasn’t the only reason she was always compelled to visit La Terrazza del Ninfeo whenever she could. She uttered a sharp noise of self-disgust. Ridiculous. She went because she enjoyed its beauty. She silenced the laughter in her head as if she were swatting a fly.
The ruins were in the middle of one of the most popular tourist spots in Rome, which made it relatively safe, but in the early-morning hours, it was still dangerous. Ignacio wouldn’t be happy that she wanted to go out at such an early hour, particularly not after the excitement with Lysander.
The need to escape the confines of her room exploded inside her, and with a curse, she reached for her cell phone. The man could always send one of the other fighters with her if he didn’t want to go. He wouldn’t. She quickly punched a text message into the phone then pressed the send button.
In the last several hours, a distinct chill had settled over the city. It had cooled her room enough for her to know she’d need more than just the sweater she wore. She quickly retrieved a lightweight jacket from the closet then headed downstairs. When she reached the foyer, she waited impatiently for Ignacio to join her.
She grimaced as she remembered how frantic Ignacio had been the other day when she’d eluded him to meet with Marcus. She’d tried to explain without revealing any secrets, but it hadn’t prevented the man from reading her the riot act. A sigh broke past her lips.
Ignacio Firmani was a good man. He’d been good to her and Cleo. The man doted on Cleo now, just as he had when she was a baby. Over time, he’d become such a part of their lives that when she took the rite of ascension into the office of Prima Consul, it had been natural to ask him to act as her Celeris and head of security. Ignacio had said yes and nothing else. Just yes.
A disgruntled growl echoing above her head made her look up to see her Celeris coming down the steps with a dark expression on his craggy features. Clearly unhappy about the early-morning hour, Ignacio came to a halt in front of her and bowed slightly.
“You have need of me, il mia signora.”
“I want to see the sunrise from La Terrazza del Ninfeo.”
“The sunrise.”
It was a statement, but she heard the question in the sardonic note in his voice as he nodded at her with a jerk of his head. Even if his voice had been emotionless, she would have known what he was thinking. Aware that he had to be tired, she shook her head.
“Never mind. We’re both tired, and you need your rest,” she murmured.
She shouldn’t have called him. She should have called Benedict or Tony.
“I’m not that damn old,” he muttered as he eyed her closely before turning away to head toward the rear of the house. “And I won’t get much rest knowing you’re running around Rome without me.”
“At least I called you this time and didn’t take off on my own, vecchio amico,” she said in a placating tone as she followed him. The moment the words were out of her mouth, he came to an abrupt halt and whirled around to lean into her with a dark expression.
“And the next time you do something so idiotic, I’m going to keep you under lock and key.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said with an exasperated smile. “You can’t lock up the Prima Consul.”
“I wouldn’t,” he snapped. “I’d be locking up Atia Vorenus, a stubborn woman who’s too blind to see what’s right in front of her.”
Startled by his behavior, she swallowed hard as his eyes narrowed at her. There was a flash of fire in his dark eyes that surprised her even more. Beneath the calm, there was a passion in him she’d not seen until now. Or had she deliberately refused to see it? Either way, she didn’t know how to react to it.
“I am not stubborn.” She latched onto the safest portion of his statement.
“I see.” He closed the distance between them even more until there was only an inch or two between them. “So the fact that you refuse to acknowledge the second portion of my comment is not being stubborn.”
“I … I am most defini
tely not blind either,” she snapped. “I see quite well, thank you very much.”
“Do you?”
His hand caught her chin, and he forced her to look him directly in the eye. There was a fiery light in his brown eyes that made her throat constrict slightly as he glared at her. He’d never touched her in such an intimate fashion before. It was a possessive touch, and it shifted the balance between them.
Deep down she’d always wondered if he cared for her, but not once in the more than twenty years she’d known him had he strayed from their platonic relationship. And he’d certainly never touched her like this. Caught off guard by his unusual behavior, her eyes widened as he drew closer then stopped just inches away from her mouth. Care Deus, was the man about to kiss her? She’d no sooner allowed the thought to enter her head, than his hand curled around her neck and he tugged her into him to capture her mouth in a hard kiss.
She was so surprised she froze, unable to think. The minute his tongue teased her mouth open, she shuddered. It was a hot caress, and although he simply tempted her with his mouth, the kiss said he wanted to do much more. The fiery touch of his lips against hers sent a signal from her brain that she’d missed being kissed—being touched. The thought made her instinctively respond to his caress, her mouth moving against his.
It had been such a long time since she’d thought herself desirable, and his hot touch made her feel just like that—desired. It had been even longer since a man had kissed her with a passion that said he wanted to caress every inch of her. The last time—she shuddered and jerked away from him with a gasp. Matris Deus, what was she doing? She was blood bonded to Marcus. Almost as if he could read her thoughts, his eyes narrowed as he studied her with a fierce look, his breathing ragged. In a slow, seductive move, his thumb slowly brushed across her lower lip.
“My patience is coming to an end, carissima. One day soon you’ll have to choose between a ghost and me,” he growled fiercely. “I’ve waited far too long as it is.” Stunned by his words, she watched him wheel sharply on his heel and stalk away from her. Dazed by what had just transpired between the two of them, she followed him through the kitchen and along the narrow corridor that led to the garage. Suddenly the steady, comfortable relationship she’d enjoyed with Ignacio had been turned upside down. It made her feel uncertain and on edge.
It was as if she was being unfaithful to Marcus. She flinched. How could she be unfaithful to a man she’d not lived with for more than twenty-five years? The simplicity of the answer made her bite back tears. Because she’d never stopped loving him. Her heart convulsed with pain at the thought. Wasn’t life supposed to become less complicated the older one got?
The silence between her and Ignacio didn’t ease as they entered the garage that was large enough to easily hold five or six cars. At the moment, there were only two. Both of them Land Rovers. One vehicle beeped as Ignacio pressed a button on his key. His walk indicated a restrained anger that increased the sharp tension between them.
When he jerked open the car door, he didn’t even bother to look at her as she climbed into the Land Rover. The door slammed shut with a fury that made her jump. Deus, she’d seen him angry before, but not like this. This display of emotion was so unlike him. He didn’t say a word. He simply drove out of the garage with a ferocity that made her wrap her fingers around the hand grip just above her head.
The diplomat in her went to work trying to figure out the best way to handle the awkward situation she found herself in with Ignacio. As he drove through the relatively empty streets of the city, she stared out at the dark buildings and occasional all-night cafe. Was he thinking of resigning as her Celeris?
The thought of him doing so dismayed her. He’d been her friend since Cleo had been just a toddler, and he was one of the few people she trusted in the Order. Ignacio always seemed to have the pulse of the Council, and she’d come to rely on him for not only information, but as a sounding board. There were far too many politicians on the Council quick to service their own needs before the Order itself.
Losing Ignacio meant her ability to govern would be weakened. A fact a number of Council members would look to capitalize on. The crest of Palatine Hill rose in front of them, but she was no closer to a solution when they reached their destination than she had been when they left the safe house. As the car came to a halt, she quickly reached for the door handle. A firm hand prevented her from exiting the car. Her gaze fell to the strong fingers curled around her arm before she looked up to meet his harsh look.
“A few days ago, you vanished into the heart of the city without benefit of protection. This morning, you would have come here alone if I’d forbidden you to leave the house.” He glared at her as she opened her mouth to protest. “Don’t. I know you too well. As Prima Consul of the Sicari Order, you’re taking unacceptable risks. If the Praetorians captured you, do you really think you will be able to keep from telling them all your
secrets?”
She swallowed hard at his question. Should she tell him that she’d not been in that much danger at the Santa Maria sopra Minerva? No. While she trusted Ignacio, there was no need for him to know about the Sicari Lords. They were not invincible, and they operated the Absconditus in secret to protect the younger Sicari Lords they trained. Children like Gabriel. Her breath caught in her throat as she closed herself to the pain the memory of Gabriel brought her.
“You’re right,” she said stiffly. “I shall take greater care not to make you or the others worry about my safety while we’re in Rome.”
“Fotte, I’m not saying this as your Celeris. I’m saying this as a man who cares for you-deeply.”
The intensity in his voice made her wince. Deus, this was becoming far too complicated. She wanted the comfortable familiarity she’d grown used to where he was concerned. She averted her head and nodded, unwilling to say anything. The tension between them was far too volatile. A moment later, he uttered a soft growl of frustration and released her. A horde of Praetorians on her heels couldn’t have made her move faster to get out of the Land Rover.
She heard Ignacio leave the vehicle as well and jumped at the way he slammed the car door. It was something he wouldn’t have normally done. Sound always drew attention. She swallowed her immediate impulse to chastise him. Instead, she circled the back of the car and headed up the footpath leading to La Terrazza del Ninfeo. The fact that most of Palatine Hill was closed to the public for excavation work made it a little more difficult to achieve her goal, but she always kept a set of archeological credentials in the car.
Even with the trail still cloaked in the waning shadows of the night, she had no trouble navigating the dirt path that led up to the aviaries. Rainaldi had designed the two buildings in the seventeenth century for a member of the Farnese family, and it was one of her favorite spots in all Rome. Whenever she visited here, it calmed her—gave her a sense of peace that was not always easy to come by in her role as Prima Consul. The quiet, particularly at this time of the morning, was something she cherished.
Behind her, she heard Ignacio’s footsteps fade as he stepped off the path to stand guard. The sky had lightened considerably, and she quickly circled the light, coral-colored aviaries to drink in the view. The crisp air she breathed in had a mildness to it that said spring would be early this year.
She moved to sit on a stone bench that overlooked the city. Already she could feel some of her stress ease as the solitude enveloped her. A thin line of yellow edged its way along the horizon illuminating the city with soft hues of yellow, rose, and mauve. As the line thickened, she frowned. What was she going to do about Ignacio? The man had literally
declared himself in the car. Something told her he wasn’t about to let her evade the subject, no matter how hard she tried. And it was a subject she wanted to avoid.
She couldn’t explain to him that the man he thought was a ghost from her past was still alive. And that she was still bonded to him. Would Marcus be willing to break their blood bond? If their most
recent meeting were anything to go on, she was certain he’d strongly object to doing so. Then there was the question of whether she wanted to be done with it.