“Tio.” She gentled her voice. “You have to call me Lissa even when we’re alone. No one can know who I am. That was your order.”
He sighed heavily, nodding as he did so.
“And you can’t go to see Aldo Porcelli. You can’t. Even to get more information. If he put out a hit on Arturo, then I have to take him out this weekend. In the meantime, you need to retire to your wing of the house and have the men you trust the most guarding this place. Don’t get into your car, don’t go anywhere. Don’t allow even a cop to talk to you alone. Have your bodyguards in the room with you and have at least one standing behind anyone insisting on meeting with you at all times.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll do that,” he agreed.
“I don’t need a bodyguard. I’m nothing to Aldo. Keep Tomasso here with you. He’s been loyal and now, with Arturo dead, you need someone good.”
“Absolutely not.” He stood up. “He’ll go with you. Someone needs to watch over you. I’m not taking any chances with your life.”
He was back to being Luigi, head of the Abbracciabene family. The man who had ordered the hit on his own brother. He wanted Aldo killed. He was too close to his goal to allow even the death of his oldest friend to delay his plans. He needed Lissa alive to take out his last obstacle.
Lissa nodded. “I’m exhausted, Tio Luigi. You must be too. You’ve been so sick and you don’t want to have a relapse, so let’s both go to bed.” She didn’t give him a chance to protest. She couldn’t be in the same room with him, not for one more moment.
12
Luigi had purchased his home in a small town far from Ferrara, supposedly to keep his niece safe. If Lissa hadn’t taken everything her uncle told her at face value, she would have realized that the Porcelli family would have kept tabs on the new head of the Abbracciabene family, no matter where he was located. Italy wasn’t so huge that he could hide.
Polignano a Mare was a very small coastal town rising out of the cliffs on the Adriatic Sea. The population varied at times, but it rarely reached more than four thousand. The town offered breathtaking views over the sea, was magnificent with its white-washed streets and variety of old churches, and boasted a beach with stunning, warm, turquoise waters, and cliffs rising on either side.
Lissa loved the town and the people who lived there. They were friendly, waving and chatting when she wandered around town or stopped at Salvadore’s, the little cappuccino bar. The town was one of her favorite places in the entire world. She looked forward to visiting it often.
Casimir told her that Luigi’s wife and sons were in his much larger estate in the city of Bari, only about forty-seven kilometers from Polignano a Mare, a short enough drive. Bari had an international airport, making it easy for Lissa to fly in from the States. That also made it easy for Luigi to travel back and forth in forty minutes or less using the main highway. He could retire to his apartment feigning illness, sneak out, and be home in record time.
The hotel was beautiful, family owned and an enchanted retreat for celebrities that heard about the gem on the staggeringly beautiful cliffs. Lissa had been there a few times just for drinks and dinner. The food was always amazing and the views spectacular.
Tomasso reached around her to open the door of the hotel for her, his body brushing against hers. A shiver of awareness went through her, the way it always did when he was close. She leaned back into him for a moment and turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.
Casimir would be gorgeous to her in any role he assumed, but she was particularly fond of his bodyguard persona. “I inherit Luigi’s house here in the village if he dies. He showed me the papers many times over the years. I love it here.”
He dipped his head, his mouth brushing her ear, sending more shivers arrowing straight to her core, igniting a fire.
“Is that your subtle way of telling me Luigi’s home needs to stay intact with no fire damage?”
His body crowded hers, forcing her to step inside the beautiful lobby. She laughed softly, grateful Casimir could make an attempt at humor when he’d been so quiet the night before. He’d held her all night, his body tight against hers, one leg between hers, the other over her thigh. His arms had wrapped her up, locking her to him. She hadn’t minded being close – she loved it – but she hated that he was so quiet.
They’d both drifted off to sleep that way, and when she woke, he was still close. Closer even. His mouth on her breast, his fingers gliding over her body, sliding down and in, until she was panting and pleading. He made love to her so gently and tenderly, almost reverent in his touch on her body. The memory brought tears to her eyes.