The Girl Who Knew Da Vinci: An Out of Time Thriller (Out of Time Thriller Series Book 1)

by Belle Ami

  When all of this is over, I just want to hang out with Alex and watch old movies and eat popcorn and make out. If that’s selfish of me then so be it.

  Hundreds of gravestones in uneven rows decorated the hillside, surrounded by tall cypresses that bent in the wind. The cemetery was well maintained, although the priest told Alex that for the last twenty-five or so years it was no longer used for burial purposes. It was more a contemplative destination for hikers.

  She shivered. It was eerie how the air seemed to change when she stepped through the gate. Cool fingers swept through her hair, and she wrapped her arms around herself trying to hold on to the heat. One foot in front of the other, her eyes focused ahead, she walked swiftly past the headstones.

  Abruptly she turned and halted. She didn’t need to look to know what she’d see. The simple white marble stone read Sophia Caro, Beloved Mother and Grandmother, Born 1919, Died 1987. All around Sophia’s grave were other graves of the Caro family, including Sophia’s brothers, Stefano and Roberto, who’d died years before. She shuddered. I’m standing on my own grave. Had Alex not caught her, she’d have tumbled to her knees.

  “Babe, are you, all right?”

  “I want to see the other side.”

  “The other side of what?”

  “The gravestone.” Her voice pleaded. “Please, help me.”

  Alex supported her, his arm firmly around her waist as they circled the grave. Alex read what was written out loud: “Giorgio Bandini (G.J.), Beloved of Sophia Caro and loving Father of Fioretta Caro, Born January 12, 1917, Died September 30, 1944.”

  “Giorgio Bandini has to be Gerhard Jaeger. They were buried in the same plot. She kept his identity a secret.”

  Angela lifted her face into the gusts of wind that stirred the cypress trees with a mournful cry. The wind carried the scent of dying flowers and laughter. She turned her head and time fell away from her like sand through an hourglass.

  Monteforialle, Italy

  August 10, 1944

  A young man chased a woman whose breathless laughter spurred him on. She was as agile and spry as an antelope, and each time he was about to catch her she managed to escape his grasp. He stumbled to his knees laughing. His size and strength appeared no match to the woman who fleetly evaded his capture. He rose and this time he charged with his head down and his hands and fingers mimicking the horns of a bull. She froze, bracing herself for the impact, but at the last second, she whirled, furling her pretend cape and he passed without making contact. He turned and this time approached at a slow, deliberate pace. She yielded, opening her arms to embrace him and he gently tackled her. They rolled as one in the grass, coming to rest against an obelisk grave marker.

  “Ouch,” she cried, but when she lifted her hands to push him off, he pinned her hands above her head.

  “Now I have you. Tell me where you hid it?”

  “No, it’s better if you don’t know.” She stuck her chin out defiantly.

  He tickled her. “Sophia, you have to tell me.”

  Tears of laughter ran down her cheeks, but she shook her head no. Finally he relented. Releasing her hands, he rested his forehead against hers. The laughter was gone from his face.

  “Why? Don’t you trust me?”

  Her hands caressed his cheeks. “Of course, I do. But for our safety, it’s better that only one of us know where it is. When the war is over we’ll both decide what to do with it. I promise you, it is in a safe place where it won’t be discovered.”

  “A ridiculous argument, but nonetheless I will surrender to your will. Graciously.”

  “Thank you.”

  He looked around the cemetery and shook his head. “I can’t believe the only place we can be alone is in a graveyard.” He bent pressing his lips to hers. She eagerly responded, pressing her body fully against him. He growled. “I’m not making love to you in the middle of a cemetery, it would be a desecration.”

  “You made love to me in every nook and corner of the Uffizi, and you’re worried about a cemetery where only the dead can see?”

  “The Uffizi was a joyful place to make love. Love among the dead seems a heresy.”

  She laughed. “Love can never be a heresy. What would be cruel is for all of these poor souls to witness the pleasures of the flesh that they are missing.”

  “You are so irreverent, Sophia. Where is the well-behaved Catholic girl?”

  “I have never been well behaved, just ask my brothers. Perhaps you will punish me.” She playfully teased.

  “Once we’re married and you are my official chattel, perhaps I will.”

  She pummeled his chest in mock anger. “You will never tame me, Gerhard Jaeger.”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “I would never change a hair on your head, I swear by the sun and the moon.”

  “Careful,” she admonished. “O, swear not by the moon, the fickle moon, the inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circle orb, Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”

  “That one I know. Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet. Don’t compare us to two doomed lovers when we have a lifetime of love ahead of us.” He silenced her reply with a kiss…

  A heavy mist rolled in and the young lovers disappeared. Before Angela could react, she was silenced by a woman’s weeping. When she turned toward the sorrowful cry, she saw a group of mourners huddled together. Two men supported Sophia, who wept uncontrollably. In front of them was a simple pine casket draped with flowers and a freshly dug grave surrounded by rich, dark earth. The resounding emptiness of Gerhard’s last words of love to Sophia brought tears to Angela’s eyes and she wept in sympathy with her heartbroken past incarnation.

  Sophia looked up and locked eyes with her. They both stood staring at the other. For a heartbeat, two separate lifetimes, the past and the present collided and merged. As if in protest of the unnatural confluence of the principles of time, Sophia slowly faded into nothingness with her gaze on Angela. Angela called out, “Don’t go.”

  Chapter 15

  Montefioralle, Italy

  August 10, 2018

  Someone was shaking her, calling to her and when she looked into his eyes with their different colors, the spell was broken.

  “What did you see, Angel? Come back to me.” She watched his face fill with shadow as a cloud passed, blocking the sun.

  “I can’t… please… take me away from here.”

  He picked her up and carried her out of the cemetery, through the gate and arched stone entrance to the trail where he set her down. “Let’s go find some lunch and a glass of wine.”

  “Thank you for putting up with me. You must think I’m a loony bird.”

  “You’re not a loony bird.” Alex lifted her hand and kissed her palm.

  They were sitting at a small table at La Cantina, on the Piazza Trento, with a bottle of Chianti between them, sipping wine and waiting to order.

  When the server presented the menu to her, she smiled but shook her head. “Just order for us, Alex. We can share whatever you decide.”

  After a lively exchange, the waiter hurried off to place their order. Angela’s gaze drifted around the room. Alex was familiar with the restaurant, but Angela was, no doubt, examining everything with her art-historian eye.

  The stone walls and barrel-vaulted ceiling enclosed them in a cocoon of stone, brick, and mortar. It was cozy and cool at the same time, with tiled floors, and floor-to-ceiling racks displaying regional wines. Each table was set with a vase of wildflowers and candles that glowed, casting shadows on their faces.

  “Tell me what happens when you have a vision. One minute you’re with me, and the next you’re in a trance and I can’t reach you.”

  “That’s what’s so extraordinary. I don’t disappear, it’s just that they appear.”

  “Gerhard and Sophia?”

  She nodded and then eve
rything poured from her. She told him every detail until he felt as though he’d seen it too. What they said to each other. What they did. She described the impossible sadness that filled her when time flashed forward and she stood at the open grave. “I was a witness this time, not a participant, but then something weird happened. Sophia looked up and I swear she looked right at me. We were staring at each other, she recognized me and she knew who I was—and then you called me back.”

  All he wanted to do was protect her, and he was failing miserably at it. She was being haunted by ghosts, but not just any ghosts. The ghosts of their previous lives. He gulped his wine. “We both know this is happening for a reason, Angela. Slowly you’re being given the keys to unlock the door.”

  “And at least I now know that I’m the only one who knows where the painting is hidden. If I could just tap into that knowledge, we could end this now.” She snapped her fingers, her eyes reflecting her frustration.

  The waiter returned with a pizza that could only be considered a work of art. She closed her eyes and breathed in. “Mmm, smells good. What kind is it?”

  “Pizza con tartuffi bianchi.” Alex grinned with satisfaction. Nothing like food to change my girl’s focus. “Pizza with white truffles, sinfully good.” He lifted a slice and placed it on the plate in front of her. “Mangia, mangia.”

  Alex poured more wine, loving Angela’s moans of pleasure when she bit into the crust. He wanted her to relax, to let go. His guilt over pushing her too far too fast was overwhelming. Indirectly, he brought this on. He was responsible for the black cloud that had settled over her life. He’d driven her into the lion’s den by bringing her to Florence and Montefioralle, and by placing her in situations that were bound to trigger visions.

  He took no satisfaction in the fact that she’d been in danger all along, that Scordato was a threat even before he came into the picture. I’ll make it up to you, baby, I swear. Once we find the painting we can close the book on this case and get on with our lives.

  Alex drove the Ferrari home at a more moderate speed because Angela was woozy, and he had other plans for their afternoon and evening besides nursing a sick puppy. He pulled up in front of the house, jumped out, and was immediately surrounded by the welcoming committee, Zaba, Ama, and Misu. Their tails wagged like three metronomes in counterpoint rhythm as they followed him around the car to Angela’s side. “Take it easy, guys.” He tried to block the dogs, protecting Angela from their exuberance, as he handed her from the Ferrari.

  “Alex, they’re just happy to see you.” She crouched and the dogs lavished her face with wet kisses. She vigorously rubbed them, giggling at their enthusiasm.

  “Correction. They’re happy to see you. Me, I’ve just become the intermediary that delivers their favorite new toy.”

  “That’s not true.” She rose a tad shaky on her feet and stumbled into his arms.

  His arms tightened around her. “Good, right where you belong. Let them know who the boss is. The one you come running to.”

  “You’re not jealous of the dogs, are you?”

  “Not anymore.” He kissed her. I’ve been wanting to really kiss you all day long. Not those little pecks that don’t begin to convey what I’m feeling. Truth is, I want to kiss you all the time.”

  She met his gaze. “Kiss away.”

  “Oh, I intend to.” He nibbled her neck. “But maybe we could get more comfortable first.” He steadied her. “Are you okay to walk?”

  “I’m fine.” She pushed her finger into his chest. “Don’t you worry about me.”

  Like I’m not worried about you every minute of the day. “Okay, I’m just going to grab the groceries.”

  He felt like the pied piper. Angela followed him into the kitchen with the three dogs in a single line behind her. He emptied the bags and put everything away as she watched him with a goofy smile on her face. The dogs gathered around her.

  She leaned on the counter. “I love spending time with you. You’ve been so good to me—” She hiccupped and covered her mouth. “Oh, excuse me.” She began hopping on one foot while holding her breath.

  He erupted in laughter. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to cure my hiccups.” She continued bouncing up and down.

  His laughter must have been contagious because she burst into giggles in between hiccups. He grabbed her. “Come here, you. I love spending time with you, too. I think you’re becoming a habit I don’t want to break. Your laughter is part of it. I keep thinking if she can laugh so readily with what she’s going through, imagine the laughter that will fill your world when all this crap is behind us.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself seductively against him. “Soooo, you want me for my laughter?”

  “Hey, look at that, I cured your hiccups.” Her face was turned up, her lips inches from his. Her hair tumbled down her back and he ran his fingers through it. “Mmm, not just your laughter. Let’s go upstairs, I have a surprise for you.”

  “Come on, you can find a better line than that to get me in your bed?”

  “No, really. I have a surprise for you.” Taking her hand, he led her out of the kitchen.” The dogs who’d patiently waited, tails wagging, followed. Alex called over his shoulder, “Give it a rest, buddies, I’m not sharing.

  “Fermi, a cuccia!” They stopped. Their master’s command to stay understood.

  Angela wasn’t nearly as drunk as earlier. The drive had cleared her brain. She knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted Alex, wanted to feel every part of him. Every time he touched her, sparks ignited her to the point of frustration. He pulled her down the hallway, past her bedroom door. “Alex, I really want to shower. I’m all grungy.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “You passed my room.” She looked back toward her door.

  “I think you’re mistaken.” He flung open the double doors of his bedroom suite. “This is your room. I hope you don’t mind, but I had Maria move all of your stuff in here.”

  Angela’s mouth gaped open. Over her head a coffered, barrel-vaulted ceiling rose nearly thirty feet in the air. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one wall. A skylight in the ceiling rained afternoon beams of light, accentuating the dust motes dancing like snowflakes, trapped in a prism.

  She stared at a wall covered with paintings, which had to be copies. Had they been real, their value would have been countless of millions of dollars. She knitted her brows.

  “Don’t look so perplexed. They’re all copies of paintings I’ve recovered. I spent so much time searching for them that I became very attached. Hence, the wall of disparate art. As for the books, I collect them. I’m always in some far-off corner of the world. It’s a pleasant hobby and a distraction.”

  “It’s an amazing room, Alex. Breathtaking. You have a lot of hobbies.”

  “I do. But I have a new one that I can’t get enough of. One that makes the others pale in comparison.”

  “What is it?”

  “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, although I’d place you more in the obsession category.”

  She laughed. “You know this library is incredible.”

  “Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.” He clasped her hand and led her through a set of carved wood Baroque doors. The master bedroom was spare, again the incongruous modern theme in an old traditional house. The centerpiece was the bed with its winged attached nightstands that seemed to float against the back wall. The bed was placed opposite a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows, beyond which lay an endless expanse of vineyards that terraced up the hill. In the middle of the windows was a gas fireplace. Alex hit a switch and flames shot up out of the purple jeweled stones.

  “It looks like the fireplace is floating above the floor. It’s so strange, all of this modernity in a country home.”

  Alex hit another switch and the fi
rst movement of Beethoven’s Pathetique surrounded them. It’s melodic tones floating throughout the suite.

  “I like the juxtaposition. The rest of the house conforms, but this sliver is my own personal rebellion. I like simplicity but the high-tech kind.” His brows lifted with his challenge. “Wanna see the bath?”

  “I can’t imagine it topping the bedroom, but then you do continue to surprise me.”

  He winked. “Good answer.” He swung open the door and she gasped.

  “It’s… it’s… I don’t know what to say.” Her eyes flitted from one end of the bath to the other. It was all white Carrera marble and chrome, but it was the shower that was like no other. A glass cube, one wall and the ceiling marble with the remaining sides glass. What she found perplexing was the outside wall, a floor-to-ceiling window opened to the vineyards and backyard. “You want people to watch you shower?”

  He laughed. “Not hardly.”

  “But… I don’t understand…”

  “It’s one-way glass. You can’t see in, only out.”

  “So, what do you see from the back of the house?”

  “You see a curtained window, an optical illusion.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. He pulled her into the shower. “Lift your arms.” She did as she was told, and he pulled her shirt over her head. Then he slid his lips down her neck and continued to undress her until she was completely naked. He turned her to the view of the vineyards and stripped. He threw all their clothes out of the shower and pressed a button on the wall.

  He pulled her back against his chest. She could hear a slight hiss and then the water from the waterspout and faucets on the wall came on at the perfect temperature. She closed her eyes and lifted her face upward, losing herself in the sensuous feeling of his lips and the pulsing water touching her skin.

  “This is the sexiest shower on the planet.”

  “I know,” he murmured in her ear, “and I assure you we’re going to make good use of it in the future, but…” He separated his body from hers and she felt the loss of his heat.