His gaze drifted over her face. His palm itched. Really itched. He used his finger to scratch at the center in hopes of alleviating the annoyance, but it didn’t work. He pressed his palm hard against his thigh. Rubbed it up and down against his jeans. Her gaze followed the motion of his hand as he rubbed, trying to make that itch go away. She inhaled sharply. Audibly. One hand flew to her throat in defense.
“Oh. My. God. You really are a Prakenskii. I was taking a guess, but you are. That’s why we’re…” She broke off and backed away from him. “It isn’t going to happen. I mean it. Whatever your brothers have done to my sisters isn’t going to happen between us.” She curled her fingers tightly into a fist and held both hands tight against her thighs. “I have to think.” She kept backing away. “This can’t happen to me. I don’t accept it. I won’t ever let it happen.”
“Now what are you going on about?” he demanded. But he knew. He knew because all Prakenskiis had psychic gifts. The one considered the most important gift of all was when they found the right woman, the perfect mate, the one who fit with them; they could seal that woman to them. He felt the power rising in him. Felt it in his hand. Knew that power was close and wanted to come pouring out of him. Because Lissa Piner, or Giacinta Abbracciabene, was that one woman. His woman. He kept his palm pressed tightly against his thigh, refusing to give in to the compulsion.
The problem was simple. He had no idea how to have a relationship. He wasn’t looking for one. He refused to claim a woman when he knew he didn’t have long to live. He wouldn’t do that to her. What he would do was make certain that while she was in Europe, she was safe and then he would ensure she returned to her farm in Sea Haven, back where Gavriil and the rest of his brothers could watch over her.
He didn’t confirm or deny her accusation. She shook her head again and turned away from him, heading back to the house. She didn’t look over her shoulder once to see if he was there. Obviously, she didn’t want to know if he was a Prakenskii anymore. That irritated him on a primal level. Why, he didn’t know, only that her complete dismissal of him was unacceptable.
Her uncle stood in the doorway watching their return, clearly waiting for her. Luigi’s face didn’t hold the customary smile. His eyes weren’t lit. He looked as expressionless as a man like him could look. Again, Casimir watched her so closely that he saw the little tell in her fingers when she curled them into a fist in reaction to her uncle standing there. Something was wrong and she knew it.
She hurried up the last few stairs to the house. Luigi stepped back to allow her inside, and they walked in the direction of her uncle’s private study. Casimir hurried toward the room that was on the other side of that wall – Luigi’s library. The man hadn’t read a book in ages, probably not since he was in school, but he had a huge, well-stocked library that Lissa spent a lot of time in. Casimir did as well, going through the books that Lissa read.
Most were maps and books on architecture. Buildings. Cities. Guides to cities. While in the library, he had discovered one very important feature. There was a common vent between the two rooms. He had removed the grate, placed a small wireless amplifier inside the vent in order to allow him to hear the conversations taking place in the study. When he was finished, he always carefully removed the bug and replaced the grate. No one was ever the wiser. He locked the library door, although it wasn’t strictly necessary. Since he’d been there, only Lissa and he had gone into the room. Not even the maid went regularly.
“You found him, Tio Luigi? You’re certain it’s really him?” Lissa sounded matter-of-fact, all business, but there was an underlying excitement in her tone. Excitement, but grim as well.
“Yes. It has taken a number of years and a lot of money, but it is Cosmos Agosto. There is no doubt. I have made absolutely certain that it is the same man. He took the money from the Porcelli famiglia to betray my brother. Your father.” Luigi spat the names at her.
“There can be no mistake, Tio.”
“I have never made a mistake. Not in all these years of hunting them. It has taken years because we are careful. Very, very careful. We are not murderers, spilling the blood of innocents. This man ate at the table di mio fratello. He broke bread with your beautiful mother. With you, Giacinta. He was given the status of la famiglia. He was treated as one of you for years. He was trusted. He betrayed all of you. This man is living in wealth. His big house. His wife so much younger. He has grown lazy, thinking his betrayal has been forgotten.”