As the unlikely trio slowly wended their way through the labyrinthine streets, Lottie made sure to keep Signore Cardinelli talking about himself—a decidedly easy task. She had spent the last five years stroking the egos of men back in London, as a lady did not dare venture to talk about herself unless asked to do so. And in her experience, few men ever bothered beyond the barest preliminaries. While he prattled on, she took in the salt-crusted palazzos slowly crumbling into murky canals, the slices of pale blue sky overhead, and caught snippets of dialect from Venetians as well as the many foreigners who called the floating city home. But more than the sights and sounds—and smells—of Venice, it was Alec who commanded most of her attention. Even though he remained a few steps behind them, Lottie was never not intimately aware of his looming presence, listening to everything that passed between her and the signore and watching with hawklike focus.
She was still stinging from Alec’s duplicitous speech to Mrs. Huntington and hadn’t missed the chance to needle him a little by flirting with Signore Cardinelli. But the longer she talked with the enigmatic Venetian, the stronger her suspicion grew that the man was far more than what he seemed, and that Alec’s connection to him likely went much deeper than a shared interest in antiquity.
When they were just a few minutes away from Saint Mark’s Square, the signore bid them adieu. He made a great show of kissing Lottie’s hand once more.
“Thank you for a charming walk, Miss Gresham. Your cousin is a most fortunate man. I trust that this will not be our last meeting.” He raised an eyebrow and glanced in Alec’s direction.
Lottie gave him her most winsome smile. “As do I, Signore Cardinelli.”
The man tipped his hat to Alec, who returned the gesture, and then went off in the direction of his nearby palazzo. Without a word Alec led her in the opposite direction with a thorny expression on his face that was likely meant to warn her off. Lottie pointedly ignored it.
“He was rather nice,” she offered.
Alec’s only reply was another derisive snort.
He still hadn’t learned that she did not give up so easily. “Do you not like him?” she asked innocently. “You seem to know each other quite well.”
Alec kept his gaze ahead. “It’s work. That’s all. We have been helpful to one another upon occasion.” He gestured in the direction of the square up ahead and quickened their pace.
“In regards to his collection of Roman and Etruscan artifacts?”
Signore Cardinelli had gone on for some minutes about his treasures, boasting that his was one of the largest private collections in Europe.
Alec flicked her a cool glance. “Among other things.”
“Are we not going to dinner, then?”
“Absolutely not,” he barked and walked even faster, moving a few steps ahead.
“Why?” she pressed, determined to fracture his marble facade. “You can’t possibly be worried about a man twice my age with a penchant for ancient crockery.”
Alec suddenly stopped short and whirled around. Lottie bumped right into the solid wall of his chest. For an instant she was sorely tempted to press against the warm musculature and inhale his woodsy scent, but Alec stepped back and put his hands on his hips. She suspected he took the same stance with students who tried to submit late work.
“Don’t be fooled by him,” he scolded, likely using the same tone as well. “Sir Alfred taught you better than that.”
She shot him a glare. “I can manage the signore.”
Alec held her gaze, his expression now more thunderous than thorny. But Lottie refused to be cowed by him. “Luckily you won’t have to,” he snapped and turned on his heel.
Lottie grudgingly followed. In another minute they entered Saint Mark’s Square, where they were drawn into the bustling crowd and promptly separated by a large group of German tourists. Her sharp cries of “Pardon” and “Excuse me” went unheeded. Lottie had endured her share of ballroom crushes, but panic began to claw up her throat as she was carried along in a veritable sea of strangers. An older man with an impressive gray mustache began speaking to her in a jovial tone. Lottie smiled politely and exchanged a few basic pleasantries that covered nearly all of her German, but when she turned away the man caught her elbow. He murmured something else, and based on the direction of his leer Lottie suspected it was nothing she wished to translate. She tugged on his arm, but the man’s grip tightened. Lottie opened her mouth to chastise him, but Alec was suddenly beside them. If his expression had been merely thunderous before, it now bordered on apocalyptic.
He shouldered his way between them and uttered a string of guttural words to the man, who swiftly held up his hands. His eyes had gone wide with fear. Alec then grabbed her wrist and pulled her across the square.
“There was no need for such dramatics,” she insisted, even as her heart still raced in her chest. “I had the situation in hand.”
Alec kept his gaze fixed ahead. “Of course you did. But then I wouldn’t get to practice my German.”
Lottie glanced back. The man had gone deathly pale and immediately turned away when their eyes met. “What did you say to him?”
A chilling smile tugged at Alec’s lips. “Nothing appropriate for a lady.”
“I think the circumstances suggest otherwise,” she said dryly. “I’m afraid I must insist.”
Alec let out an aggrieved sigh as they came to a stop under one of the archways of the Doge’s Palace. “It won’t translate to English exactly,” he began with all the authority of a seasoned professor, “but I explained to the gentleman that if he didn’t let go of you, I would take great pleasure sending him back home with his bollocks in a box. More or less.” He then scanned the square. “Now, what do you wish to see first? The basilica or the bell tower?” When she didn’t directly respond, he cut a glance to her. “You do know your mouth is hanging open.”
Lottie schooled her expression into something slightly more composed. “The basilica, please.”
“Excellent choice,” Alec said as he offered his arm.
Lottie hesitated. It was so much easier to be angry with him.
“Come now,” he prompted. “I don’t want any more Germans snatching you up this afternoon, or I’ll run out of threats.”
Lottie reluctantly slid her arm through his, and they joined the line of visitors waiting to enter the famous Basilica San Marco. Her eyelids fluttered at the sensation of his tall frame so close to hers while her mind groused that she didn’t need his protection. She was perfectly capable of waiting in line without a guard, but it was hard to remain quite so indignant while standing beside him in the April sun. As they slowly edged toward the entrance, his intoxicating presence was akin to a rather potent narcotic, and Lottie gradually found herself leaning closer and closer to him, like a trembling vine stretching toward sunlight. At first, Alec’s arm muscles tensed and flexed against her approach. But then slowly, so slowly, he began to respond in kind, subtly adjusting his hold without uttering a word.
By the time they entered the basilica his arm had slipped down around her waist and his hand gripped her from the bottom of her rib cage to the top of her hip. The warmth of his wide palm melted through her gown and spread across her skin. As if pulled by unseen strings, Lottie turned her head toward him until her chin was scant inches from the lapel of his coat. A puff of his warm breath caressed her temple. He must be looking down at her. If she tilted her head upward, Lottie was certain her lips would meet his. She could almost feel his full mouth settling over her own, coaxing a deep, demanding kiss.
That morning, while he was still half asleep Alec had promised to be gentle, but Lottie was more intrigued by the rather commanding aspects of his nature. She liked needling him because even though he could have easily dismissed her, Alec always found a way to engage. To push back. But so far he had retained much of that stony facade. What, then, would it take to make him crack completely?
Just as her knees began to quiver at the thought, a pinch-mouthed docent loudly cleared her throat and threw an icy glare in their direction. Lottie inhaled and straightened, breaking from Alec’s hold. Their stance was decidedly inappropriate for a house of worship.
“Sorry,” Alec mumbled thickly, as if he had been roused from a dream.
Lottie stepped away and turned her attention to the architectural wonder around them. She had come here to see the many treasures of Venice. Not to engage in acts of public indecency. As they slowly made their way through the grand cathedral, Lottie silently marveled at the Byzantine mosaics, the great golden altar, and the relics of Saint Mark. All the while Alec kept a safe distance, just out of touch but never quite out of mind. Thank goodness Lottie wasn’t particularly religious, as the direction of her thoughts would surely damn her for all eternity.
She was still flushed when they stepped back into the square. Without a word Alec took her arm once again and led her around the basilica’s bell tower. She kept her eyes on the redbrick building, a world-famous symbol of the city, while Alec pointed out various features, like the golden weather vane crafted to resemble the Archangel Gabriel and the lion faces that topped each of the five bells. It was a pleasure to listen to him. Alec had a lovely speaking voice, low and smooth, and clearly knew much about the subject.
“Do you fancy going to the top?”
Lottie shook her head as she took in the lofty spire. “Not really. I don’t care for heights.”
“Hmm. And yet I seem to remember you had a habit of climbing out of your bedroom window.”
She did her best to school her smile and continued to take in the structure’s details. “I hadn’t developed the fear then. Besides, I wouldn’t exactly call it a habit. I only did it a few times.”
And always in order to meet him.
“Come,” Alec urged. “This is your one chance. Don’t let fear win.”
Overhead, the bells of San Marco pealed, as if beckoning her. A sharp pain twisted inside her, born of both forgotten memories and impossible futures. She could not bear to go with him and make even more. Lottie shook her head. Alec let out a soft sigh, but he pressed her no further.
He continued to play tour guide as they wandered the halls of the Doge’s Palace but only gave the history of each site, saying nothing about his own experiences. His father had written several poems that featured a young boy much like Alec reveling in the floating city’s treasures. Lottie pictured him here in the square chasing pigeons, making friends with street performers, and gorging on sweets from charmed vendors until he was carried home fast asleep in his father’s arms. Did Alec know of the poems that described such scenes, or was it all too painful for him to even contemplate? Lottie had always found refuge in her memories of her parents, but it wasn’t the same for him. And perhaps never had been.
“Shall we take a gondola to my flat?” he asked. “We’ll have a lovely view of the Grand Canal along the way.”
She met his gaze for the first time since they had entered the square. Alec’s hazel eyes took on an amber glow in the setting sunlight as he stared back at her with his usual intensity. But there was an edge of vulnerability about him now that made him seem years younger. It was as if she was seeing Alec, the Alec she had known, once again. And, unlike his caresses this morning, this was intentional.
Lottie suddenly had trouble swallowing. In the space of a moment her throat had gone bone dry.
“Yes,” she said in a thin voice she barely recognized. “That sounds perfect.”
Alec helped Lottie into a gondola and took the seat across from her. She was avoiding his gaze again, just as she had for the last hour or so. She might have possessed a hearty streak of cynicism, but Alec acknowledged that Lottie was still too unguarded to be working for a man like her uncle. Learning to conceal one’s soft underbelly was of paramount importance in this line of work, though even Alec was finding it increasingly difficult to do so the longer he was in her presence. Showing her around the square, holding her so closely outside the basilica while she blushed under his touch, watching that look of curiosity melt into awe as she took in the sights—it was just the sort of thing a honeymooning couple would do. Just the sort of thing he had dared dream of once…
As the gondolier launched them into the bustling canal, Lottie’s eyes widened first with surprise and then delight. She shot him an excited grin as they sliced through the water. Alec’s lips curved as her head swiveled back and forth, eagerly taking in the busy waterway with her painter’s eye. Their gondolier began warbling a tune. Something about thwarted love. Normally Alec hated this bit. It was drivel for tourists. But being with Lottie made it tolerable.
No. Far better than that.
Her gaze came to rest on him then and he wanted to believe with every fiber of his being that her eyes softened, just a little, because of him.
“You look rather content,” she said.
Alec raised an eyebrow. “And you sound rather surprised.”
Lottie gave a little shrug. “Only because I haven’t seen you like this since…”
Since he had come barging back into her life.
Alec shifted in his seat. “Yes, well. I suppose it’s due to my surroundings.”
She nodded but kept focusing on the Venetian gothic structures that lined the canal. “It is beautiful here. I can see why you made this your home.”
I wasn’t speaking of the city.
But Alec kept the words to himself. There was no point. She was leaving. And if he couldn’t get a handle on himself, she would need to make the journey without him. Neither spoke for the rest of their ride, though the canal provided plenty of distractions. Once they docked, Alec helped Lottie onto shore, paid their gondolier, and led her toward the battered palazzo he called home.
As they turned onto his narrow street, Alec caught sight of a small dark-haired boy with large brown eyes sitting on the front steps of his house. A smile touched his lips as the boy clambered to his feet and waved enthusiastically.
“Who is that?” Lottie asked.
“Nico. He lives in the flat below mine.”
The boy rushed over to them, explaining in Italian that he had been waiting for Alec’s return ever since their luggage was delivered earlier. Then he began detailing everything that had happened during Alec’s brief absence. But his excited rambling about a particularly enterprising pigeon was cut short when he finally took notice of Lottie and sketched a grand bow. “Buon pomeriggio, signora.”
Lottie returned the greeting and seemed utterly charmed by the little scamp.
Alec pressed his lips together, trying not to smile too much. “Nico, this is my friend, Miss Carlisle,” he explained. Alec had been teaching the boy English for the past few months, and he was a remarkably quick study.
Nico’s face lit up. “I am honored to meet a friend of the professor.”
“And I am honored to meet you as well, Nico. Have you lived here long?”
Alec flicked her a warning glance that she ignored. Of course she would not miss a chance to do a little digging…
“Two years,” Nico said proudly. “We are very lucky to have found the professor. He is the most generous—”
“All right, Nico,” Alec cut in. He could feel Lottie’s speculative stare as he slipped the boy a few coins. “Go down to the trattoria and bring back some risi e bisi for dinner. It will be too much for the two of us, you know how big those portions are, so take some for yourself as well.”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, Professor!” Then he darted down the street.
Lottie followed the boy’s departure then turned back to him. “That was clever of you.”
Alec stepped away to open the palazzo’s heavy front door. “He won’t take anything otherwise. He already knows I charge a pittance for rent.” But even Nico wouldn’t pass up the chance to sample the Venetian rice and peas dish that was popular this time of year. He gestured for Lottie to enter first, but she stood on the front step, head tilted back to take in the palazzo’s faded beauty. “You own this place?”
“Yes,” he said, with a hint of pride. “Every last crumbling bit.”
“Who does Nico live with?”
“His mother and aunt. They are seamstresses.”
Lottie met his eyes and her brow tensed with worry. “No father?”
“Not one that makes himself useful,” he muttered. Then they stared at one another in silence until he motioned for her to enter again. They couldn’t stand in the damned doorway forever. Lottie gave herself a little shake and moved past him into the entrance hall.
The palazzo was once a grand place but had fallen into disrepair over the years. Alec was slowly trying to bring it back to its former glory, but that required a great deal of money he didn’t have. He had spent nearly all his savings cleaning the place and seeing to the most pressing repairs, like the rather large holes in the floor. Now it was reasonably tidy, and safe for a curious boy like Nico.
Lottie craned her neck as she took in the entrance hall’s high ceilings. Her lips parted as she noticed the massive Venetian glass chandelier hanging above their heads. “How beautiful.”
Alec and Nico had spent the better part of a week polishing each individual crystal droplet. The boy was always eager to help, and his mother was grateful to have her energetic son occupied.
“My flat is on the top floor.” The words came out gruffly, but Lottie only nodded and headed toward the sweeping staircase. They ascended in silence, but as soon as they reached the landing outside his door, she abruptly turned around.
“Please, let me help you. It’s the least I can do,” she pressed. “You did agree to bring me here.”
Alec stuck out his chest just as Nico used to do before he learned to mask his charitable efforts. “No.”
“If you won’t do it for your own sake, then do it for the boy’s. And his mother.”
That was far harder to dismiss, but he still had a scrap of pride left. “I can take care of them. Keep your money.”
Lottie flinched ever so slightly before changing course: “Then we should go to the signore’s dinner tonight. He said there would be a collector there.”
Alec’s jaw tightened at the very thought of that bastard conversing with Lottie once again. “I don’t want you involved with him,” he said through gritted teeth.
Lottie folded her arms across her chest. “You’re being absurd. This collector would pay for your expertise. And Signore Cardinelli likes me. If we go, you’ll stay in his good graces.”
Alec leaned forward. “That you would even make such a suggestion demonstrates how very little you know,” he snapped. “He is a dangerous man.”
She snorted. “He can’t harm me by flirting. Or is this about my reputation again? Are you still determined to save me from ruin?”
His breath quickened at her mocking tone. If the signore had any clue who Lottie really was, and how desperate Sir Alfred was to see her safe, he would manipulate the situation to get what he wanted. And Alec simply wouldn’t let that happen.
“I’m not some helpless little girl anymore,” Lottie continued with a stamp of her foot. “I’m capable of taking care of myself. And I don’t need your protection.”
She said the words so dismissively. As if his concern meant nothing to her.
“Oh, I see,” Alec said with deadly calm as he slipped his hands in his pockets and took a step toward her. “I didn’t realize you knew how to defend yourself.”
She hesitated and backed away. “Well, not exactly—”
“Ah. Then you must be able to wield a dagger.”
“No—”
“Shoot a gun?”
Lottie shook her head. A faint blush stained her cheeks, but Alec would not stop. He stepped forward until Lottie’s back was against the wall and there was nowhere for them to go. Until he was close enough to count the freckles on her nose.
“So, you’ll just talk your way out of any trouble. Is that it?” he demanded. “Make a few quips and hope that tongue of yours is sharp enough to save you?”
Her eyes fell. “I…I hadn’t thought—”
“No, you most certainly have not. But I have.” Alec slammed his palm against the doorjamb and Lottie straightened. His eyes burned into hers with all the intensity of his anger. His fear. “I know you’re proud for eluding your ancient chaperone, but this isn’t flouncing around Tuscany. This isn’t bloody ballroom gossip. That man has half of Italy’s blood on his hands. It’s already bad enough he thinks you’re my cousin, but if he had any idea who you really were. If he knew about your uncle, he would—”
Fuck.
Alec couldn’t even think the words. He pulled away from her and pressed his forehead to the wall. He took a deep breath, then another, and another, until his heart rate was close to normal. “My protection may mean nothing to you.” Lottie began to protest, but he plowed on: “But if anything ever happened to you because of me, I would…I would…” He could not will himself to say the rest.
In all the years he had been doing this, he had never had to consider anyone else’s safety besides his own before. Now her very life could be in danger because of choices he had made.
It was simply too much.
Lottie placed her hand on his wrist. He was trembling. “You would what?” she said softly, pressing her thumb against his flesh.
Alec turned his head toward her but kept his other hand fixed firmly to the doorjamb. She watched him closely, those green eyes were searching for something. Desperately. A very large part of him wanted her to find it. To find him once again. Alec dug his nails into the worn wood frame. It began to splinter under the weight of his worry. And his want.
“I don’t know.” His mind buzzed with a hundred different thoughts and fears, each one worse than the last. “Christ, Lottie,” he whispered, harsh and urgent. “I don’t even know.”
She leaned in a little closer until her scent mingled with the charged air between them. But just as her lips parted, the door of his flat swung open.
Rafe Davies, fellow intelligence agent, occasional flatmate, and the closest thing Alec had to a friend these days filled the doorway with a delighted grin on his face. “Terribly sorry to interrupt, but I got tired of waiting for you to come inside.”
Alec recovered from his surprise and immediately tucked Lottie behind him. “You’re supposed to be in Egypt.”
Rafe ignored his sharp tone. “Change of plans. You know how it is.” He shrugged and peered over Alec’s shoulder. An easy enough task, considering he was several inches taller. “Hello, there,” he said to Lottie, flashing her a dazzling smile. “I’m Rafe. And who might you be?”
“Don’t answer that,” Alec growled, then he grabbed Lottie’s hand and pulled her into the flat.
Unease rippled through his body as Alec stalked across the flat’s receiving area and through the large, light-filled parlor. He didn’t stop until he reached his bedroom door and flung it open. Anyone with half a brain could guess what they had been on the verge of doing.
A mistake.
“Go inside and wait for me,” he murmured.
For once Lottie didn’t protest. She merely nodded and slipped into the bedroom, but not before she glanced behind him. When the door was safely shut, he spun around. Rafe watched from across the room, looking like the cat that got the cream. He would be expecting the full rundown, as usual. But this was different. This was Lottie.
As Alec walked toward his friend, he tried to return that smile, but it felt more like a grimace.
Rafe pointed his chin toward the bedroom. “I see you picked up something on your trip down south. I thought you didn’t like English women.”
“What makes you think she’s English?”
Rafe let out a hearty laugh at his caginess. “I heard you talking in the entry hall, you oaf. And the landing.”
“Were you listening by the bloody door?” Alec scoffed.
“Well, you weren’t exactly quiet,” Rafe pointed out, still amused. “Why, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a woman speak to you that way.” Then he tilted his head, considering. “Come to think of it, I could say the same for you. And here I thought you were a gentleman.”
Rafe was a few years older and had served the Crown far longer, first as a naval officer before his recruitment as an intelligence agent. His father, the late earl of Fairfield, had been working in the diplomatic service after the death of his first wife when he met Rafe’s mother, an eccentric young actress on the cusp of stardom after one of her performances. Rafe spent most of his childhood abroad, due to both the nature of his parents’ careers and the scandal their marriage created. His four half siblings still refused to acknowledge his very existence. Yet Rafe rarely seemed bothered by this and instead embraced life with a breezy joie de vivre that was at turns irritating and infectious. Now he eyed the door with a level of interest Alec couldn’t stand.
“She’s a redhead, isn’t she? Bit hard to tell under that absurd hat. Is she as feisty as she sounded?”
Alec’s hands fisted. “Fuck. You.”
That caught Rafe by surprise. Not an easy feat. “Why don’t we sit down. I’ve brought a bottle of that beastly local wine I know you like.”
Alec shook his head. “I’m busy. And you can’t stay here. State your business and then leave.”
Rafe gave him a pitying look, as if he were an obstinate child crying over nothing. “Alec, you know I can’t do that.”
They stared at one another for a solid minute, but they both knew it was only so Alec could maintain some shred of dignity. Rafe was a damned good friend. Alec would have to find a way to thank him later when he didn’t hate him quite so much.
“Fine,” he grumbled and sat down hard on the flat’s threadbare sofa.
Rafe broke into another easy smile. Always calm and collected. Someone could be trying to tear his limbs off and Rafe still wouldn’t lose his head. “Jolly good. I’ll get us some glasses. Would your friend like to join?” Alec cast him a warning look, and Rafe shrugged again. “Suit yourself.” He came back with the uncorked bottle and two dusty glasses.
Rafe held one up to the light and frowned in disapproval. “I thought you had a woman come round to clean?”
Alec snatched the glass and began to pour the wine. “I do, but I doubt anyone’s used these since—” The words caught in his throat.
Since my father.
Rafe studied him. “You know, you might give a thought to moving somewhere else,” he said lightly. “Somewhere without quite so many memories.”
Alec let his icy glare speak for him as he passed Rafe the glass, then poured his own. His living arrangements were another subject not up for discussion. “So what happened to Egypt?” he prompted.
Rafe took a sip of the sweet red wine and made a face. “You know, for a half Italian you have a terrible palate.”
Alec finally managed a laugh. “Blame the English half then.”
Rafe nodded in agreement and set down his glass. “Egypt is off for now.” He lowered his voice. “It appears we have a leak. And from rather high up. I’m meeting with someone from the Foreign Office later. But that’s not why I’m here. When did you last speak with Signore Cardinelli?”
Alec’s neck prickled. “Today, actually. He invited me to a dinner party he’s giving later.”
“That’s perfect,” Rafe said. “There’s a woman who should be in attendance. Madame Noir. You’ll need to make contact with her.”
“Who is she?”
“Another French aristocrat of dubious origin with a line of dead husbands behind her, each one more important, and wealthier, than the last. She’s currently the mistress of one of Germany’s most profitable military contractors.” Rafe leaned forward in his chair. “It is believed she will be there tonight to secure a deal.” He then paused for effect. “It appears the good Signore Cardinelli may be moving into arms dealing.”
And with one of England’s greatest adversaries, no less.
“That’s absurd,” Alec scoffed. “Why would he invite me then?”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “My guess is he’ll double-cross her, for the right price.”
It was Cardinelli’s usual move: dangle someone or something out on a line and wait to see who bit the hardest. For months now Alec had been warning his superiors that if he was this willing to turn on others, he would do the very same to them. But they didn’t seem to care. So far the information had been worth the risk. But they would have to pay the piper at some point, and Alec damned well didn’t want to be there when it happened.
“Fine. Let him. Why am I supposed to snuggle up to a Frenchwoman?”
“Because you will need to warn her that loyalty is not one of the signore’s stronger traits. And make an alliance.”
Alec muttered a curse. Apparently his superiors had decided to finally listen. And expected him to be the one to turn the tables on the signore.
“She could be a valuable informant. Imagine: a direct line to a German military contractor.” Rafe’s eyes practically sparkled.
Every now and then Alec was reminded that Rafe had actually chosen this line of work. He wasn’t a true believer, exactly, but he enjoyed it in a way Alec had never quite managed. But then, for him, this hadn’t been a choice.
A bone-deep weariness settled over him and he suddenly felt ten years older. “Can’t you go?” It was a useless question. Signore Cardinelli tolerated Alec only because of their shared interests. He had no use for a so-called philistine like Rafe.
Rafe shook his head. “My presence won’t be welcome. Which is unfortunate, given what I’ve heard can happen at these parties.” He then added a suggestive eyebrow waggle.
Alec had only ever been to Cardinelli’s palazzo on business, but he, too, had heard the whispers.
“It has to be you. And it has to be tonight. Madame Noir is leaving for Paris in the morning.”
Alec didn’t bother replying. “If you’re thinking of your friend, I’d be happy to keep her company,” Rafe said a little too eagerly.
“No, that won’t be necessary,” Alec managed to growl through his iron jaw. “As it so happens, the signore invited her as well.” If he dared to show up without her, the door would be slammed in his face. But the moment he saw anything vaguely salacious, they were leaving. Mission be damned.
Rafe cut a glance to his bedroom door. “She won’t be sore if you pay another woman attention right in front of her?”
I know you will do anything to get what you need.
Not this time. He would find another way to make the damned alliance.
“No,” Alec said firmly. “That won’t be an issue at all.”
“We need this, Alec. No distractions tonight.”
“Of course.” Rafe moved to leave, but Alec held up his hand. “I’ve a favor to ask before you go. I’m looking for information on Sir Alfred. Whatever you can find. Anything he may have been involved in lately.”
Rafe raised a dark brow. “That’s rather vague.”
Alec rubbed his temples. “Yes, well. I’m not yet certain of what I’m looking for. But I know something’s not right.”
Rafe sat back in his chair. “So, the golden boy has finally seen the light.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve been Sir Alfred’s acolyte, and there have been whisperings about your beloved mentor for twice as long as that. Though it would take a hell of a lot to topple him. I’ve tried to talk about your unquestioning loyalty before, but you wouldn’t hear of it.”
Alec blanched. The conversation Rafe referred to had been over two years ago. After Turkey, when Alec was almost killed pursuing a lead at Sir Alfred’s personal request. It was the only time he had taken a life. It had been entirely in self-defense, but Alec still saw the man’s face sometimes in the dead of night.
“So, tell me: What’s changed?” Rafe prompted.
Alec kept his face blank. “It’s only a hunch.”
Rafe gave him a skeptical look but didn’t press him. That would come later. “I’ll do some digging. Perhaps this London contact can help.” This time they both stood. Alec walked him to the door and they shook hands.
“Good luck tonight,” Rafe said. “And do let me know if you have any more of these hunches.”