CHAPTER 15

Colette

The streets were tree-lined and gorgeous. Old Del Mar was old-money Republican and one of the most beautiful communities in the area.

“Something in the air . . . it doesn’t feel right to me tonight.” Buying and setting up a crèche just prior to committing a mortal sin might have had something to do with it.

Dante kept passing his hand through his hair. “It will be fine. Is almost over.”

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Naturalmente.”

“Are you going to be able to just . . . quit? What about your partners?”

“It’s not what you think, bella. It is very, how you say, relaxed?” he said.

“Casual.”

“Si. I am independent agent.”

I relaxed. Besides, the moon was shining so beautifully in the night sky, it had to be a good sign.

We parked the car on an adjacent street and cut through the backyards to our mark. The door off the deck slid open. Dante threw me a smile. Piece of cake. All I wanted was for it to be over and to be back home with my bedecked halls of Christmas cheer.

I headed off to the side of the house to where I thought the master bedroom would be while Dante made a sweep of the living areas. I padded down the dark hall past floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases.

A California King flanked by two tables. I was opening a drawer in the nightstand when the atmosphere of the house shifted.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” A woman’s voice pierced the stillness. Suddenly Dante was beside me, a dog barking at his heels. He grabbed my hand and thrust open the bedroom door leading to the back patio.

“I’m calling nine-one-one. Angie, stop screaming. They won’t get away. Sic ’em. Toby!” But Toby, a golden lab, just rubbed up against me. I patted his head and was rewarded by a warm, wet lick and a wagging tail.

Dante pulled me toward the fence surrounding the pool and pushed me up and over, then scampered up after me. We ran through the alley, our soft-soled shoes hitting the asphalt in a way that sounded too loud in my own ears. I tripped and scraped my knee, tears stung my eyes. Dante helped me up and we kept running. Once on the street we slowed to a fast walk. We reached the car but Dante shook his head. We continued down toward the ocean until we hit Highway 101. Sirens wailed in the distance. We crossed the deserted highway. With no one around, if we were spotted, we were cooked.

Once at the beach, we crouched behind an outcropping of rocks to catch our breath. A wave lapped up, soaking my canvas shoes with liquid ice.

“Now what?” I whispered through my now-chattering teeth. The noise seemed too loud in the night.

“Now, we walk.”

So we did. We walked along the sand’s edge from Torrey Pines Beach all the way to La Jolla Shores. I shivered the whole way. We cut through a few neighborhoods before hitting the Cove, staying off the roads as much as possible. Sometimes we had to climb over rocks. I slipped a few times, the pain in my knee throbbed, but Dante’s strong grasp on my hand kept me from falling. At others, we were hand in hand along the smooth, damp sand, looking like a couple in love out for a moonlit walk on the beach. In November.

By the time we got home, I was shaking more than ever. Dante drew me a hot bath and set about making tea with honey. I was immersed in bubbles and he brought it in, hiding his eyes.

“You can look, I’m decent.”

He set the cup carefully on the edge of the tub and brought in a warm, clean pair of soft cotton sweats in midnight blue.

Once I was out of the bathroom, he bandaged my knee.

We sat in the darkened living room, lit only by the fire in the fireplace and candles.

“The car?”

“Tomorrow I will send friends.” He placed one of his beautiful hands on my shoulder. “Time to stop. Our luck . . . finito.”

 

Dante stayed with me. Every time I dozed off, I was jerked awake by images of red lights flashing in the night, silvery handcuffs, and steel bars. Finally exhausted, I fell into a black sleep.

I woke up to Dante making more tea. I grabbed the cream pashmina shawl that Jacqueline sent me last year and headed to the kitchen.

“Did they see your face? Can they recognize you?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I wear the ski mask and pull up the collar of my sweater like this.” He demonstrated, unrolling the turtleneck up over the lower half of his face. “Maybe they see my nose. Eh.”

I couldn’t help it. I giggled.

“I leave the bag. They will be less angry, nothing taken. The police will not pursue.”

It made sense. I sat at the table and bit my nails.

“We are not in danger. Do not worry, okay?” Gently he moved my hand down to the table.

“Okay. But we could have been.” His hand was as cold as mine.

“What could have is not. It is air.” He gestured upward with the palm of his free hand. Now I go home to change the clothes.”

“Oh, my God. You must be freezing.”

“No, tutto bene. The fire is warm.”

I knew he was lying.

“I make arrangements to go to Las Vegas. It is time,” he said from the door.

I blew on my tea and took a sip. It was sweet without being cloying.

“We leave on Thursday. Come back Monday.”

I was about to open my mouth to say that I taught on Fridays but stopped. I didn’t feel as if I owed any loyalty to an institution that was about to discard me like a bunch of wilted flowers. It also occurred to me that Friday was the big university bash. The one I’d hung so many hopes on all those weeks ago. It felt more like a couple of centuries. I closed my eyes and couldn’t quite picture Wayne’s face. His general demeanor, yes. But his actual features were fuzzy.

But my students. They were not responsible. But how much more could I give them in one fifty-minute class? The carrots were cooked, as they said in French.

“Nico? Where are you?” He was still in the doorway.

“Sorry. Right here. Thursday sounds good. I’ll be ready and waiting, Captain.”

“It will give you an opportunity to wear your most beautiful dresses.”

I hadn’t thought of that. This was going to be fun.

Although Dante could wear burlap bags and still steal every other man’s thunder, some ideas popped into my head. I hadn’t had much practice designing for men other than my brother—Wayne thought my designs were too chichi—but I’d never had a Dante in my life either.

I spent the better part of the next three days designing and making a suit for him. I was absorbed, wanting to do his beauty justice.

After I lied to Chantal with a poise I never knew I possessed, she arranged for one of the grad students to cover my class and she wished me good luck on my job interview in Dallas.

I was just an ever-replenishing pool of vice.