I studied him and shook my head.
“What?” he asked.
“Is it really that simple, Ben…err…Knox? I can decide how comfortable I am?”
“For now, yes. It really is that simple.”
“When does it become more complicated?”
He sat back in his chair. “Two things concern me above the rest. First, the man we saw earlier today in Florence. Second, that someone was in the casina. Apart from that, there’s nothing I see as urgent, unless you know who he is and why he was following you. Or if there are additional threats against your safety you’re aware of.”
“I don’t know any of those things.”
He stood and took his plate to the sink but looked as though he had something more to say. Like I had, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Tara, the man I saw you with, do you have any reason to believe he would do anything to hurt you?”
“None whatsoever. I know he would never.”
“That’s good enough for me.”
“For now?”
He smiled. “For now.”
After we cleaned up the dishes from dinner, Knox took my hand and led me over to the staircase. “I want you to sleep in my bed tonight, Tara.”
“Okay.”
“There’s something you need to understand first.”
“I don’t like the sound of that.”
“Which is why we’re talking about it before we go upstairs.”
I nodded even though I really didn’t want to hear what he was about to say.
“I want you in bed beside me. I want to feel you next to me. And as much as I want to have sex with you, we aren’t going to. Not tonight.”
There was no need for me to look in the mirror to confirm my cheeks were flushed. I could feel the heat in them. The humiliation I felt made me want to race out of the farmhouse. Knox, obviously anticipating that reaction, had his arm around my waist and was holding on tightly.
“Too much happened today. I know you’re feeling that as much as I am. I’m not saying it won’t happen tomorrow, but even if it doesn’t, it won’t change the fact that I want you.”
He cupped my flaming cheek with his palm. “I know that, somewhere inside, you agree this is the best thing for both of us.” His eyes bored into mine. “Don’t you, Tara?”
I had to admit, I did. My first reaction was embarrassment, but if I’d allowed myself time to think it through, I knew what he was saying was best for both of us.
“One more thing—”
Before he could speak, I put my fingers on his lips.
“Let me say it.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I told you I want you in bed beside me. If you don’t want that, I’m not going to force you, Tara.”
“I would really like to sleep with you, Knox.”
He smiled and led me up the staircase, past the room where my things were.
“Sorry, I’m kind of a slob,” he muttered, picking the clothes scattered around the room and tossing them into a heap in the corner.
I went back into the hallway and to the room where my bags were. I grabbed a few things and used the restroom. When I came back into the bedroom, Knox was sitting at the end of the bed. He was wearing fleece shorts but no shirt. And, God, he looked delicious. I’d never been with a man like him before—someone so muscular. His upper arms were bigger around than my thighs. The idea of all that power thrusting into me made me shudder.
He held out his hand, and I came and sat beside him.
“You sure you’re okay with this?” he asked.
“I don’t think I’d sleep otherwise.”
He smiled.
“You like being the protector, don’t you?”
His cheeks flushed, which made me want to pinch them as much as kiss him.
“I guess I kind of do.”
I got up and walked around him so I was on the side of the bed farther from the door. Knox smiled again before turning off the lights and climbing in beside me. He held out his arm, and I shifted closer to him and rested my head on his bare chest.
“I like having you in my arms.” When he bent down and kissed me, I could taste the toothpaste he’d just used like I had. “I want to know everything about you, Tara.” He kissed my forehead. “That wasn’t supposed to make you tense,” he added a few seconds later.
“I hope you like what you find.”
Knox turned on his side so he was facing me. “You are bright and beautiful and talented and smart. I’ve learned so much from you in the last few days. You fascinate me. The only thing I don’t understand is why you don’t believe all of those things about yourself. In fact, I think once you get to know me better, you may discover you are way out of my league.”
I leaned forward and kissed him. “I doubt that.” I closed my eyes, not surprised by how tired I was, but by how quickly I felt myself falling to sleep.
“Thank you, Knox,” I murmured.
“You’re welcome, Tara.”
When I woke the next morning, Knox was still asleep. I reached out and ran my fingers over the definition in his abs. What did it take to maintain a physique like his? He must spend hours every day in the gym. Although, where would he workout here?
I giggled when Knox grabbed my fingers with his hand and brought them to his lips. He pulled me so the top half of my body rested on the top half of his.
“I kept waking up, making sure you were still beside me.”
“Did you really think I’d leave?” I asked.
“There’s a good chance I snore.”
I smiled and nodded. “You do.”
The phone on the table beside the bed vibrated; he reached over and picked it up.
“Sorry. I need to take this.”
I got up to use the restroom. Knox had a loud voice, so the fact that I couldn’t hear him, meant he was intentionally speaking quietly. I eased out of the bathroom door, went downstairs, and filled a teapot with water. While it heated, I looked around for coffee, relieved when I found a French press and some espresso already ground.
“Where did you run off to?” I heard Knox say from the stairwell.
“Making you a cup of tea.”
He didn’t say anything else, and I didn’t hear him come down the stairs. A few minutes later, he did. He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. “I was really hoping I wasn’t dreaming.” He kissed my cheek while I dunked the tea bag into the hot water in his cup.
“Am I doing it right?”
He laughed. “Hard to do it wrong. How would you feel about going up to the villa for breakfast?”
“You did tell Lucia that you would talk to Pia.”
“That was Lucia who called actually. Pia is none the wiser about what went down at the casina.”
“Oh. Then, we could stay here.”
“We need to talk about you working in Valentini’s tasting room.”
“Oh,” I repeated.
“I have someone from K19 looking for security footage from yesterday to see if we can identify the man on the street, but I’m not sure how long that might take. Even if we do, that doesn’t mean we can protect you in a place as public as the tasting room.”
“I understand,” I said, turning my back to hide the disappointment I felt. I knew it was silly, but I’d felt such a sense of pride whenever someone bought even a bottle of wine after tasting with me. When they bought a case, it was even more rewarding.
“I have an idea.”
I turned back to face Knox. “What?”
“Why don’t you spend the time you’d be working in the winery, painting Valentini instead? Maybe Pia would sell your artwork.”
“I truly appreciate your confidence in me, Knox, but you haven’t seen any of my work other than sketches.”
“All I’m saying is to give it a shot.”
“What am I going to tell Pia about why I have to quit?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“I was afraid you were going to say
that. Everything I’ve come up with makes me sound like a spoiled brat.”
Had I really said that out loud? It was definitely how I saw myself, but since when had I become so effusive about sharing my innermost thoughts?
“Like everything else I said to you last night about how fabulously amazing you are, I have trouble with that assessment. I would use neither spoiled nor brat when describing you.”
“You’re more generous with me than others.”
“I’m going to make it my goal to help you see you are so much more than you believe yourself to be.”
My eyes met Knox’s when we heard a knock at the door. “I hope that isn’t Pia,” I whispered.
21
Halo
It was Pia, and based on the look on her face, Lucia’s assessment of her being oblivious to what happened in Tara’s casina, was far off base.
She looked over my shoulder and raced past me.
“Can you forgive me?” she said to a wide-eyed Tara.
“What for?”
“That someone broke into your casina.” Pia shook her head and looked down at the floor. “I do not understand the things that are happening at Valentini. I am not cut out for this.”
The last sentence, she murmured in defeat. Like Tara, Pia was criticizing herself for things she shouldn’t be. It was Tara, even myself, who’d incited the break-in, albeit as much unknowingly as unintentionally.
My eyes met Tara’s, and I pointed at my chest. She nodded.
“Pia, the last thing I want to do is make you feel worse for something beyond your control, but given that it appeared Catarina may have been targeted specifically, I’m going to suggest she take a few days off from the tasting room. The decision is, of course, up to the two of you.”
“I understand.” Pia dropped Tara’s hand.
The look on the two women’s faces crushed me.
“I’m probably overreacting. You know how I get about our Catarina,” I said with a smile.
“How do you feel?” Pia asked Tara.
“I’d be very sad if I couldn’t be in the tasting room.” She turned to me, mouthing, “Thank you.”
“How much of a disruption would I be if I spent time there writing?”
Pia’s smile was broad. “You are incantato with my friend, sì?”
I wasn’t certain of the word’s translation, but if it meant infatuated with, crazy about, then, yes. I was. I had a feeling the next words to come out of my mouth might get me in a little trouble, but it was worth it. “Pia, were you aware Catarina is an artist?”
As anticipated, Tara glared at me.
“You are?” Pia asked, taking Tara’s hand in hers again. “What is your medium?”
“Painting. Oils and watercolor mainly, depending on the subject matter.”
I could see Pia’s face; she was just as in awe of Tara as I was.
“You amaze me,” she said. “You are a woman of the Renaissance.”
“I suggested she paint some of the Valentini landscapes that you might be able to sell at the winery.”
“That idea is fantastica. Do you have any I could see?”
“Knox’s—I mean Ben’s—suggestion is premature. I’ve only done a few sketches so far.” I winked when Tara looked at me with scrunched eyes.
“It relieves me that you are staying at the farmhouse with Ben as much as it saddens me that Valentini has not been a safe place for you.” Pia took a deep breath. “I will see you later, sì?”
“We were thinking of coming up to the villa for breakfast.”
“I would love that,” she said, breaking into one of her signature smiles.
“You are in trouble,” Tara scolded when Pia left.
I nodded. “I’m happy to take any punishment you want to mete out.”
“Even if it is that I refuse to paint?”
She had me there. “Except that.”
After breakfast, Tara and I went to the tasting room, where I settled with my laptop at a table tucked off to the side of the room. I had many emails to sort through but filtered those from K19 from the rest.
Doc reported that there was still no word on who the man I saw in Tara’s casina was. However, not surprisingly, there was an immediate hit on the man we’d seen in Florence.
Liborio Strollo was a mid-level enforcer for the ’Ndrangheta syndicate. “Il mento,” as he was known, meant “the chin.”
If Tara’s father did, in fact, have ties to the organization, it would be hard to predict his reasons for following her. Was he looking for Richard Emsworth like we were? Or was he looking for Tara on behalf of her father? Not knowing exactly what her father’s connections were, made it impossible to guess.
The next email I read, cleared some of that up for me. It also sent chills up my spine. According to Razor, the wire fraud charges against Emsworth were for art forgery as well as art fraud. As Money had said, to the tune of millions of dollars.
He was accused of selling forgeries of lesser-known masters throughout Europe, but in Italy primarily. Some of the same painters whose works Tara and I had seen at the two museums in Florence were mentioned on the list of forgeries.
In addition, Emsworth was accused of selling multiple shares of works that were higher in value. In one instance, it was said he sold more than forty ten-percent shares of the same painting. Each share sold was reported to be for a million dollars.
Tara hadn’t mentioned her father was an artist. Something made me doubt he was. So who had produced the forgeries he’d peddled all over the continent?
I reviewed the attachments Razor had sent on the indictments. Interestingly, no victims from the States had come forward. There was also no mention of a co-conspirator. However, the charge of enterprise corruption would indicate there should have been.
When there was a lull in tasting-room traffic, Tara came over to the table. “Am I interrupting?”
“Not at all,” I said, standing to pull out the chair next to me. “How’s your day been so far?”
Her smile was broad, and her eyes sparkled. “We’re selling a lot of wine. Good, since that’s the goal.”
“I’ve become obsessed with the idea of you painting. I’m beginning to feel like a pest.”
“Rightly so.”
I smiled. “Is anyone else in your family as artistic as you are?”
Her eyes hooded. “No. Why do you ask?”
I didn’t like her response any more than she liked my question. I’d hit on something; I was certain of it. “Just part of me learning everything I can about you.”
“Better get back to work.” She stood and walked away.
Fuck. Why did my every instinct scream she was hiding something?
That night and the next morning, Tara had pulled back from me, reinforcing my suspicions. I’d also happened upon her typing something into her phone, stayed hidden, and watched while she continued an exchange.
I let her off the hook that first night, saying too much had taken place that day and we could put off talking about why she was in Italy. The time had come for us to have the conversation I knew in my gut would drive us even farther apart.
Before we did that, I needed to schedule a meeting with Matteo Casavetti. Something else I’d been putting off. In order to do that, my preference was that Tara stay at the farmhouse. Given she’d worked the last two days and the tasting room was closed tomorrow, I contacted the AISE agent, asking him to confirm we could meet the following day and that he could provide additional backup here at Valentini.
“I have a meeting in Florence tomorrow,” I said to Tara later, as we sat on the terrazza, having dinner prepared for us by Nonna Bella. Pia had begged off, saying she had work to do, but my guess was it was really to allow Tara and I to have a romantic evening.
She nodded and put another forkful of food into her mouth.
“While I’m gone, I’d like you to remain at the farmhouse. There will be people there making sure you’re safe.” She didn’t react in any way. “Ta
ra?”
She looked over her shoulder to see if anyone had heard my gaffe. “Um, yes, thank you, Ben.”
“Please look at me.”
She set down her fork and did as I asked.
“While you may not realize it, I’m on your side. You can trust me, Catarina.”
“Can I?”
I’d been giving her space, waiting for her to open back up to me. Maybe that was the wrong approach. I reached over and took her hand. “You can trust me,” I repeated.
“You say that, but…”
I shook my head. “I say that because I mean it.”
She shook her head too. “You hardly know me,” she whispered. It was a recurring theme, one I had little argument against. How could I say in one breath that I did know her while, in the other, say how I wanted to learn everything about her? They were contradictory statements. Was there something I could say instead? I thought back to my childhood and the words my parents repeated to my sister and me often.
“No matter what you get yourself involved in, whether you’re in trouble or in over your head in some other way, you can come to your mother and me. We’ll always help.” I said the words to Tara in the way my father said them to me. “I grew up knowing I never had to overcome anything I believed was insurmountable on my own.” I lowered my voice. “I’m making the same promise to you, Tara. No matter what it is, or even who it is, I will help you.”
“That’s a promise?”
I crossed my heart and raised my hand like some kind of damn nine-year-old Boy Scout. “It’s a promise.”
Tara nodded. She wasn’t ready to talk, but she had listened. For now, that was as much as I could ask for.
When I left the next morning to drive to Florence, I was filled with anxiety. I didn’t track of the number of missions I’d been involved in over the course of my career, but there was one thing I knew to be true of every one of them. I hadn’t been anxiety-ridden. There were many times I’d acknowledged going in, that I may not live through it. There’d been times, like the plane crash, when I knew I wouldn’t. Anxiety, though, was not a feeling I was accustomed to.
Halo (K19 Security Solutions Book 8) Page 11