Page 65 of Fastest Kill

Frederica turned from the window and reached for her phone in her back pocket. As she dialed, Dario looked down at the small golden bee one more time before he tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket, as close to his chest as a thing could get without being a part of him. He would get a little bag for it to hang around his neck later, along with the necklace he had found in a drawer of the desk.

He put the little figure in his other pocket. He would need all the help he could get to get through the fight with Agrippa, and he wasn't about to leave his saint behind again.

28

The guest rooms were on the second floor, both with views of the canal, and furnished with special care so people would feel welcome.

Dario showed them to Frederica without a word of preference, just holding each door open and letting her look. One had a blue-painted headboard and a window seat with faded cushions. The other was smaller, darker-walled, with a terracotta lamp that threw warm amber light over everything it touched.

"Towels are in the cupboard in the hall," Dario said, pointing. "The extra bathroom is that door there. The hot water takes a minute to come through."

"I'll survive. I've camped in worse places," she replied, meaning every word.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll be cooking if you need anything," Dario said and went back downstairs.

Frederica had a shower and tried to stretch the knots out of her neck. The winter sun was gone by 4:30 p.m., and she was already yawning. Maybe it was the past few weeks catching up with her, or the fact that the house was designed to make people feel comfortable and relaxed.

She found Dario in the kitchen a short time later, because Dario cooked the way other people paced: with purpose, focus, and mentally burning off whatever he couldn't afford to sit with.

Frederica tended to punch things, but she wasn't going to complain whenever someone decided to cook for her.

He must have gone out or ordered groceries in somehow at the last minute, because he was doing something with seafood and garlic that made her stomach rumble. There was rice, white wine, and stock simmering on the back burner.

Frederica sat at the kitchen table, accepted the glass of wine he placed in front of her, and watched him work. She had to admit, it wasn't a bad view to have a big, handsome man cooking.

When the bowl of risotto arrived, she ate the first spoonful and made a sound she wasn't entirely in control of.

Dario looked up from his own bowl and then tried to hide his cute, pleased smile. "I don't think I've ever heard that particular moan out of you."

"It is my 'this food is obscenely good' moan," she told him, because it was. "If you were less annoying, you would be prime wife material for this risotto alone."

"High praise from you, Spartana. I'll add it to my CV of marriagable qualities," Dario said, laughing as he reached over and poured her more wine.

Frederica ate two full bowls. He ate one and a half and kept getting a dazed expression, which told her he was still trying not to drown in memories.

They cleaned up together after, falling into the same easy division they had found in her parents' kitchen in Rhodes, with her washing and him drying.

"This house is so much better than the villa," she said, handing him a pan.

"Better how?"

"Less like a statement. More like people actually lived here."

Dario took the pan and looked at it for a moment. "Leo keeps threatening to come and sort some of it out so it's less cluttered, but he hasn't yet."

"He should leave it as it is."

"That's what I told him, but I can understand wanting to update the plumbing and a few other things." Dario stacked the pan. "He said it was mine and Rodrigo's as much as his, and he'll ask us before he changes anything major. It might be in his name, but he still wants us to use it as a family home when we need it."

Frederica set down her dish towel. "Is there somewhere that's just yours?"

"Not yet," he said and pulled a face. "I've always been on the move for a job or back at the villa. My own place hasn't seemed important."

"It will be." She picked the dish towel back up and folded it over the oven handle. "When Agrippa is handled, you should have a special place of your own. Pick somewhere that makes you happy."

"I'll think about it. God knows as soon as Giana and Rodrigo start popping out babies, I'm not going to want to stay at the villa," he replied. They both pulled a face at that and then laughed because it was just one more thing they agreed on.

Frederica thought she wanted an early night, but instead she lay in the dark of the amber-lamp room, listening to the house settle around her and counting her heartbeats.