When dinner’s over, we’re both tired, so we walk back to the hotel.
We’re all staying at the same one, on the same floor, and I think briefly about that master key floating around out there, the one that was in Harper’s purse. I meant to ask her to tell the hotel to cancel it and get another, but the thought slipped my mind.
I’m sure it’s fine, though.65 Harper’s always on those sorts of things.
Besides, I’m not the target. If there even is a target.
And Connor can take care of himself.
We ride the elevator in silence, the air thick between us, my feet killing from the stupid shoes I never should’ve worn. Harper texted me while we were at the restaurant asking for an update, but I didn’t feel like putting a label on it, so I sent back a devil emoji and didn’t wait for her reply.
The door dings! on the third floor and we step out.
“How did I not know you were staying here?” I ask.
“You never were that much into the details.”
“You sound like Harper.”
“She’s a smart cookie.”
“She is.” I take a left toward my door, which is second from the end; Connor is in the last room at this end, and Harper’s to the right of me. I don’t know which room is Oliver’s, and that’s probably a good thing.
Because it sounds romantic to knock on someone’s door in the middle of the night, and then kiss them silently after they open it and tumble into bed together, but the reality is that Oliver’s more likely to sleep through the knock because he’s a deep sleeper.
Which leaves me in some sexy underwear66 in the hallway, feeling foolish.
Not that this exact scenario has happened or anything.
I just have an overactive imagination.
“Harper always has good ideas,” I say. “When I’m stuck with a plot.”
“Is she still writing?”
“I don’t think so.”
“That’s a shame.”
We pass Harper’s door and now we’re in front of mine.
“Maybe it’s a good thing,” I say. “If it was making her miserable.”
“Was it?”
“Not being published certainly was.”
Oliver meets my eyes, and a beat of something passes between us. Old feelings, new.
How are you supposed to tell the difference?
“Your career can’t help.”
I nod slowly. “She thinks I stole her spot.”
“That’s not how it works.”67
“I know that, and she knows that, but…”
“What does she think about you ending the series?”
“I’m not sure she believes me.”
“Why not?”
“I hardly believe it myself. I’m determined, though. By the time Amalfi Made Me Do It is over, Connor will be dead.”
“Amen.”
The door to Connor’s room swings open, and there he is, shirtless and angry. His hair is mussed and—there’s no un-crass way of saying this—he smells like sex.
“So, you’re the one who wants to kill me?” Connor says. “I should’ve known.”
Oliver steps back like I might be contagious. “His room is next to yours?”
Connor smirks. “That’s right, mate. And we’ve got adjoining doors.”
“I didn’t ask for that! And it’s bolted, you asshole.”
“Now, now, Eleanor. You know better than to speak to me like that.”
“Do not talk to her that way.”
“I’ll talk to her as I please. She’s the one plotting my demise, after all.”
“It’s a fictional murder, for Christ’s sake. In the next book. I was going to tell you.”
His eyes narrow. “You were going to tell me you’re cutting me out of the series I helped launch? How kind of you.”
“I wrote the books, and you’ve benefitted handsomely. But it’s time, Connor. It’s time for them to end.”
“Time for me to end, you mean.”
“For the last time, no one’s trying to kill you.”
“Is that so?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “How do you explain this, then?”
I take the phone. It’s a news article in Italian. “Pedone ucciso in incidente stradale,” it says. But I don’t read Italian, even though I’d promised myself I’d learn before I came on this trip.68
“What does this mean?”
He takes the phone back and scrolls down until he gets to a photograph of a man in his mid-thirties. “This is the guy who pulled me out of the way of the bus outside the Vatican.”
“And?”
“He’s dead.”
“What?” Oliver says.
A door opens down the hall, and Shek pokes his head out. “Will you all keep your voices down? Some of us are trying to sleep.”
“I’ll speak as loud as I damn well please.”
Another door opens—Emily’s this time. She’s wearing a long blue silk robe, tied elegantly at the waist. “What the hell is going on? Do you know what time I have to get up in the morning?”
“The same time as everyone, young lady,” Shek says.
“Because it takes you an hour to put those three wisps of hair into place.”
“I’ll have you know—”
Guy emerges from his room with a drink in his hand, in his undershirt and boxers. “Shall I get my gun to tame you beasts?”
“You have a gun?” Allison says, poking her head out of her room. “Why?”
“I need the protection.”
“How did you get it into the country?”
“I have my ways.”
“I wouldn’t believe him,” Connor says. “He likes to be dramatic for effect.”
“You both do that,” Allison says.
Guy rattles the ice in his drink. “Don’t tempt me, Connor.”
Connor scoffs. “Oh, please, just do it already, then. Enough with the cat and mouse.”
“What are you talking about?” Shek asks.
“He thinks someone’s trying to kill him,” I say to the potential suspects.
“Someone is.”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Oliver says. “But why?”
“I don’t have to tell you anything.”
“You think it’s Guy, Connor?” I ask. “Is that what you’re saying?”
He looks down the hall. We’re all here but Harper. “It could be any one of you.”
I sigh. “Well, now they’ve been warned. So, if anyone here was thinking of killing Connor, he’s on to you, okay?”
“You think this is a joke?”
“I’ve told you once already about speaking to her that way. I won’t repeat myself again.”
“Oh, Oliver, please. If you cared so much for the way anyone speaks to Eleanor, you wouldn’t be hanging around outside her door. You’d have been inside five minutes ago.”
I put a hand on Oliver’s arm. “Don’t take the bait. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”
“That’s right, sweetheart. I’m not.”
“You should go to bed,” Oliver says slowly to Connor. “We all should.”
Connor leans against the doorjamb and swings his door open wider. Isabella’s sitting up in the bed behind him, a sheet drawn up to her naked shoulders.
“Some of us were already in bed,” Connor says. “Care to join us?”
“Yuck. No.”
Connor’s eyes flash with anger. “You were happy enough to do it before.”
“That’s my cue to leave,” Oliver says.
“No, wait.” I hold on to his arm. “Just stop it, Connor. Go away.”
“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” He looks past me down the hall. “That’s what you all want.”
“What I want is to get to sleep,” Shek says. “Or, rather, back to sleep.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying,” Emily says.
“Have you got someone new in there, Connor?” Allison asks with a laugh in her voice. “Or hasn’t that girl seen through you yet?”
“Took you ten years.”
“And who knows how much longer it would’ve taken me if I didn’t have Eleanor to thank.”
“Catfight,” Guy says.
“Shut up, Guy!”
“So sensitive. I’ll leave you to it, then.” Guy throws back his drink and disappears into his room. His door shuts with a thick thud.
“All right, everyone,” I say. “Show’s over. I’ll see you on the bus tomorrow.”
“We’re not going on one of those coaches, are we?” Emily says. “With the tourists?”
“They’re called the BookFace Ladies, and yes. Didn’t you read the itinerary?”
“Of course I did. It’s why I didn’t show up to the Colosseum.”
“Don’t want to hang out with the hoi polloi?”
“They’re your fans,” she says, then turns on her heel and flounces into her room.
Allison shrugs her shoulders at me, and I turn back to Oliver. “I’ll see you in the morning?”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I kiss him on the cheek. He doesn’t pull away, and I have the satisfaction of hearing Connor’s door click shut behind me. “Good night.”
I take out my key card and open my door as quickly as possible. I don’t want to watch Oliver walk away from me.
My door shuts, and I lean against it, listening to the sounds in the hall. They’re muffled, but I can hear the other doors closing, one by one.
What a shit show.69 I’m glad Harper missed it.
But where is Harper?
I feel a frisson of unease.
I walk to the adjoining door between our rooms and open it slowly. Her room is dark, and she’s in bed, um, sleeping like the dead.
But no, I’m being silly. It’s Connor who’s the target, not Harper.
I close the door quietly and check my texts.
I’m in for the night, she wrote hours ago. Taking a pill so I can get some sleep. I’ll wake you at six.
I let out a sigh of relief. Good for her. She deserves a good night’s sleep.
So do I.
I pull off my clothes, then crawl into the big, empty bed and pull up the covers. I can already feel myself starting to slip away. I’m exhausted by the wine and the emotions I’ve stuffed down.
Did Connor just say that the person who saved him outside the Vatican was dead? I should probably look into that, but it’ll have to be tomorrow.
More important, did I almost die today?
Jesus.
A person can only take so much, and I’ve almost reached my limit.
Maybe that’s why I nearly choked to death.
“Up and at ’em!” Harper peels back the curtains to let the sunlight in.
I roll away from the light and pull the blanket up over my head. “Morning is a terrible idea. Why haven’t we fixed that yet?”
“You should’ve taken a pill.”
“You know I don’t like to do that.”
“Worked wonders for me.”
I lower the blanket. Harper’s happy and rested. She’s wearing a T-shirt and a pair of blue flowered shorts that show off her lean legs.
“I’m glad. Though you did miss quite the scene last night.”
“You and Oliver?”
“I wish. No, Connor and, well, everybody.”
“Speaking of which, I have to make sure he’s up. When I get back, you’d better be in the shower.”
I check the time. It’s six thirty. “Is this bus really at seven, or did you lie to me to get me up on time?”
“It’s at seven thirty. But we’re meeting it around the corner, so you’ll have enough time if you get a move on.”
“You might want to take a stroll down the hallway and hit everyone’s door. No one but you seems to have gotten much sleep last night.”
“Good idea.” She hesitates. “You’ve got five minutes.”
“Yes, yes.”
Harper leaves, and I listen to her work her way down the hall, starting at the far end. Her raps are sharp, and she repeats that phrase—“up and at ’em”—in a clear, ringing voice. I can’t hear the responses, though she giggles at one of them, probably Allison’s, by the distance, but maybe Oliver’s.
There’s a pause while she skips her room and mine, and then I hear it, the final rap.
“Connor! Let’s go. Time to get up.”
Silence.
“Connor! Please acknowledge! We’re more than happy for you to miss the bus!”
Good for her.
“Connor! I’m opening the door. You’d better not be naked in there!”
I hear Connor’s door push back and then the air’s pierced with a single scream.
And then again.
I jump out of bed and race for the door. I trip over one of my shoes and slam my hands against the floor.
I push myself up and fling open my door.
Harper is crumpled in a ball on the ground in front of Connor’s room with a room key lying next to her.
“What happened?” I crouch down and pull her to me as I look past her.
Connor’s lying on his bed, half naked, on his back, his eyes staring fixedly at the ceiling.
Dead.
Ah, shit.