20. Michelangelo

“I’ve been in contact with Mallory Felice,” Nemesis said after leading me into the conference room in Vauxhall Cross, SIS headquarters, where I’d met with Cayman Trace the day before. “You may know her as Flick.”

“I do.”

“I understand she, you, and Sundance have a theory about the Calabrian Syndicate’s interest in increasing their involvement in human trafficking.”

“I mean no disrespect, ma’am, but any theorizing would come from them, not me.”

“You have experience with the Calabrians.”

“Not on the right side of them—if there is one.”

“That’s right. You worked primarily with the Sicilians. Some say they owe their success in art forgery to you.”

I shuddered. “A distinction I’d rather not have. Particularly, given I believe they may be behind the fraud against people close to me. If not them, the Calabrians.”

Nemesis sat back in her chair and steepled her fingers. “It was the Sicilians.”

That made me sit up and take notice. “Do you have evidence to support your speculation?”

She studied me. “It’s a hunch, and as you’re aware, catching forgers is not my mandate.”

“Of course not.” I sat back like she had. “Let me see if I’m following you. The Calabrians see potential in the worldwide art business. They also see it as an arena where they’d have respectability, apart from the forgery side of it. However, the Sicilians have usurped their market share, if you will.”

“Correct thus far.”

“You believe I have enough of an in to convince them I could help them take down the Sicilians. If I’m able to get far enough inside, I may have access to the trafficking side of their business—at least enough to figure out who the players are.”

“You catch on quick, Michelangelo.”

It was, in essence, the same plan Doc, Merrigan, and I had, just tweaked a little.

“I’d need time to reestablish myself as being back in the business.”

I caught a faint smile. “Precisely. We’re not ready to move on our side of it, anyway.”

“Are you saying you don’t already have people on the inside?”

“MI6 does. Not the coalition.”

“If that’s the case, it concerns me. The more people who are undercover, the more risk there is for discovery. Not to mention, conflicting agendas.”

She nodded. “Understood. That can be remedied.”

I held up a hand. “Wait. I haven’t agreed to anything yet.”

Nemesis grinned. “Neither have I.”

“Touché. So, where do we go from here?”

When she stood, I did too. “You return to the States. Think over the things we discussed today and talk it over with Doc. If and when we’re ready to proceed, we’ll be in touch.”

She walked me from the conference room to the lift. “I’ll tell you this much. I believe you’d be an asset.”

“I appreciate you saying so.”

The lift’s door opened, and I stepped over the threshold. There was one gentleman, who was looking at his mobile, already inside.

“Your meeting with Nemesis went well?” he asked, startling me.

“My apologies. Have we met?”

“We have not. I’m Z Alexander, chief of MI6, and you are Brando Ripa aka Michelangelo. Excellent job on the code name, by the way.”

“It was, err, my girlfriend’s suggestion. She’s in the art world.”

“Ah, yes. Penelope Ramsey.”

“Do you know her?” I asked.

“Of her, yes.”

The lift door opened on the ground floor, and we both exited.

“Flying back today?” he asked.

“That’s right.”

“Perhaps next time you visit, we can have a longer chat.”

“Right, um, of course.”

“Good day to you, Michelangelo.”

“Good day, sir.”

“Hey, I was hoping I’d catch you before you left.”

I turned around and saw Cayman approaching.

“I see you met Z.”

I couldn’t help it; I shuddered. “Interesting guy.”

Cayman raised his brow. “I’ll say.”

“Is there anything he doesn’t know?”

This time, he laughed. “Unlikely. He’s eerie that way.”

“I’ll say,” I repeated.

I doubtedI’d sleep much on the eight-hour flight from London to New York. Before boarding, I called Pen to tell her when my plane would land but not the details of the meeting I’d had with Nemesis. I needed to process the discussion, particularly given, at times, it had felt like a battle to read between the lines.

I had a better understanding of what my next steps would be, should this mission come to fruition.

As planned, I’d infiltrate the Calabrian Syndicate by helping them take control of the art-forgery business currently dominated by the Sicilians. It meant they’d need to believe I’d left prison only to resume my life of crime a few weeks later. The best way to convince them was to reestablish myself as a forger.

No doubt, the coalition, with help from MI6 and K19, would ensure I had undercover customers and a money trail to show I was actively moving forgeries.

What I had to do was no different than what I’d done five years ago, except this time, it would be a ruse. Then, I’d operated alone and I answered to no one. Now, there was Penelope. I couldn’t do this without making her aware. But how would knowing affect her? Would I even be permitted to tell her? If I couldn’t confide in her, it would drive a wedge between us. I meant it when I said I would do whatever it took to make a life with her, and that meant no secrets, no lies, no living an ocean apart.

I also meant it when I told her a life without her was hardly a life.

Regardless, I wouldn’t want her with me in Tropea. Somewhere else in Italy, maybe. Far enough out of reach for her to be safe. Even London would work. It would be easy for me to travel there, or to New York, or anywhere in the world under the premise of meeting with buyers, so we would be able to see each other from time to time.

That Nemesis wasn’t ready to move forward with the proposed mission yet worked in my favor. I had time to strategically plan my side of it, determine every ramification, then decide if I was willing to consider it at all. Every aspect would also be dependent upon Doc’s and Merrigan Butler’s input.

Besides conferring with them, I’d eventually have to face my father. While it had been less than a month since the party during which he gave me an envelope he’d believed would change the course of my future, I anticipated he was champing at the bit, as they say. Frankly, I was surprised I hadn’t heard from him or my mother, who was still the bastard’s secretary.

It dawned on me I also hadn’t sought the legal counsel Doc had recommended I did. After seeing Pen and spending as much time as I could naked in bed with her, I’d ask if he had a referral to an attorney qualified to consult on an inheritance the size of the one I was due to receive.

I was stunned when the flight attendant woke me to say we were preparing to land. I had to have slept at least six hours. Given it would be eight or later by the time I arrived at the town house and, once there, I planned to spend the remainder of the night making love to Pen, I was thankful for the rest.

“Hello. I’m home,”I hollered when I walked in the front door using the code Pen gave me to both open it and disarm the alarm she put on when she was alone in the house.

Home. Would she mind that I’d used the word? I’d spent a handful of nights here, some of which were on the fifth floor, where I felt like a temporary guest.

My phone vibrated, and I thought about ignoring it and finding Penelope instead. Thankfully, I didn’t.

Your welcome awaits on the fourth floor,read the message from her.

I dropped my bag and took the three flights of stairs two steps at a time. Even the lift wouldn’t be quick enough. By the time I reached the landing, I could hear music playing. When I rounded the corner, I found the lights dimmed and saw a crackling fire.

“Welcome home, honey,” said my Butterfly as she approached with a flute of champagne. The skimpy silk robe she wore was belted but hung open enough for me to see the curves of her breasts and the dark triangle between her legs.

I took the drink from her hand and set it on the nearest table, wrapped my arm around her waist, and nuzzled her neck. “I missed you so fucking much.”

We kissed, and while we did, Pen unfastened the buttons on my shirt and I toed off my shoes and lowered my trousers. Once naked, I walked her backwards to the bed, untied the belt of her robe and pushed it from her shoulders.

“I can’t wait, Brand. I need you inside me.”

When she rested against the pillow, spread her legs, and touched herself, I saw she was more than ready for me. As I pressed my hardness against her, Pen put her hands on my arse and pushed her body closer. I thrust the rest of the way in, until I was buried as deep as her body permitted. Then, stilled. I knew she was anxious, but there were things I had to say before I unleashed the passion that sat so close to the surface.

With one hand, I cupped her cheek while I braced myself above her with my other arm. “I love you, Butterfly.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she was smiling. “I love you, Michelangelo.”

There was more I wanted to say and hear. I wanted her to swear to me she’d always love me, that she’d never leave me, and that the two of us would spend the rest of our lives together—joined like we were now as often as possible. Instead, I said all of it with my body. I kissed her deeply and, in a frenzy, brought us both to the pinnacle of pleasure.

“Please tellme you do not have to go to the gallery tomorrow,” I said sometime in the middle of the night after we’d made love for the third time.

“Even if I did, I wouldn’t. Tara has been great. I think she’s putting in hours now, knowing she won’t be able to once the baby is born.”

“I’m going to be an uncle,” I murmured.

Pen looked up at me. “How do you feel about that?”

I shrugged, afraid to say the first thing that came to mind. I wished, instead, I would soon be a father to the child my Butterfly and I made together. I couldn’t wait to rest my hand on her stomach and know that, inside, there was a life we’d created.

Would I risk mine so willingly by infiltrating the Calabrian Syndicate if I knew I were to be a father? Could I chance leaving Pen alone to raise him or her? Was the good of the many worth more than the good of a family?

“Brand?”

“Yes. Very excited. And you’ll be an aunt.”

“What were you thinking about?” she asked.

I nearly groaned at my reluctance to admit it, but stifled myself. “You and me starting a family.”

Her eyes opened wide.

“Sorry. I don’t mean right away. Some day.”

“Is that what you want?”

I leaned back so I could look into her eyes. “Is it not what you want?”

“I haven’t thought about it. It seemed so unlikely.”

“What about now? Does it seem more likely?”