Chapter 9

9

Ignoring the man, Bianca said to Billy, “I believe we were leaving, yes?”

She tried to guide Billy around the obstacle, but the man moved back into their path.

“Eduardo, get out of our way!” she said.

Eduardo swayed slightly as he eyed Billy up and down. “Who is this…person? I do not know him.”

At the bark of his voice, several of the nearby partygoers turned to see what was going on.

“Why would you need to know him?”

“Because I would like to know who is talking to my wife!”

“Wife?” Billy said.

“ Ex -wife,” Bianca said. “We divorce nine months ago.” She glared at Eduardo. “Someone is having a hard time getting over it.”

“You are making a big mistake,” Eduardo said. “How do you know he will not try to take advantage of you?”

“Oh, you poor delusional man. Taking advantage of me is exactly what I’m hoping he’ll do.” She glanced at Billy. “You will do this for me, sì ?”

“That and more, if you desire,” Billy said.

She snuggled against him. “I knew you would be accommo…accommo…”

“Accommodating?”

“Yes. Such a nice word.”

Eduardo stepped forward to separate them, but before he could lay a hand on Billy, Billy moved himself and Bianca out of the man’s path.

Eduardo tried to veer after them but ended up tangling his feet and stumbling into a table, upon which sat several glasses.

Alcohol spewed out of the flutes and onto him as he and the table crashed to the floor.

Now, everyone in the room was looking in their direction.

“Come,” Bianca whispered, taking Billy’s hand. “He can figure out how to get up on his own.”

They exited the room, walked quickly down the hallway, and nearly ran into Stacy as they entered the museum lobby.

“Oh, there you are,” Stacy said to Billy. “I was just coming to look for you.”

Bianca raised an eyebrow and checked Stacy out. “And who is this?”

“This is my personal assistant, Stacy Lange,” Billy said. “Stacy, this is Bianca Barone.”

“Ms. Barone, a pleasure to meet you,” Stacy said. She was used to dealing with celebrities and knew how to show respect without coming across as a fanatic.

“Nice to meet you, too,” Bianca said, then glanced at Billy. “How personal?”

Stacy looked as if she’d just bitten into a lemon. “Not that kind of personal. First, that would be inappropriate. And second, Billy’s old enough to be my—”

“No need to finish that sentence,” Billy said.

Bianca looked embarrassed. “My apologies. My ex-husband was a little too personal with his personal assistant. I am, how do you say…oversensitive on this issue.”

“No need to apologize,” Stacy said. “And sorry your ex was such an asshole.”

“Not was, still is.”

Stacy laughed.

“You said you were looking for me?” Billy said.

“Right.” She held out an envelope. “For you.”

He took it. On the front was written BILLY BARNETT, but nothing else. “Who’s it from?”

“No idea.”

“Then how did you get it?”

“A motorcycle courier brought it to the party entrance. The staff sent someone to find you but saw me first.”

“What did the courier look like?”

“Like a courier,” she said, as if it were the most obvious answer.

“Did you see his or her face?”

“His, and no. He kept his helmet on the whole time, and its visor was tinted.”

Billy slipped the envelope in his pocket. “Thank you, Stacy.”

“Do you know who it’s from?”

“I have an idea.”

She waited, but when he didn’t elaborate, she said, “Another detail about your life I don’t need to know?”

He smiled and said, “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

Stacy headed down the hallway, and Billy called the car service the Centurion team was using in Rome. While he and Bianca waited, he opened the envelope and pulled out the message.

Written on the paper was a Rome address and five a.m. There was no name, but Billy didn’t need it. The sender had to be Samuel Rogers.

The car pulled up a few moments later. Billy opened the back door and let Bianca get in. Instead of climbing in after her, he leaned inside and said, “Give the driver your address and he’ll take you home.”

She looked at him, confused. “I thought we were going to your hotel.”

“As did I.” He held up the envelope. “I have some business to take care of, I’m afraid. So, I’ll have to take a rain check.”

The early morning meeting meant tomorrow was going to be even busier for Billy than originally planned.

Bianca’s mood darkened. “It is another woman, I assume. You men, you are all the same.”

“You assume incorrectly.”

Her eyes locked on his. “You are telling me the truth?”

“I am.” He flashed the envelope again. “Purely business. No pleasure involved. If you are free tomorrow evening, might I suggest dinner alone in my suite?”

“Are you sure you will not find more business to keep you away from me?”

“I cannot promise that, but I will do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

She thought for a moment, then nodded. “Give me your phone.”

Billy did so. She called her own phone on his, hung up both, and handed his cell back.

“There. Now you have my number. Text me what time we will meet.”

“It may be a little late. We have a lot of press to do tomorrow.”

She shrugged. “I’m Italian. Your idea of late is still early for me.”