A small laugh slipped from Pet and she shook her head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish I were,” he muttered. “The gallery owner considered it high art.”
“Are you sure you didn’t misunderstand and he was telling you he was high when he agreed to give this so-called ‘art’ a showing?” she asked with amusement.
“I would not be surprised,” Santo said with a grin. “I think both the artist and the gallery owner were high when we interviewed them. They actually sat there driveling on about how it was the artist’s representation of the death of innocence. That was even the name of the art show, The Death of Innocence.”
Pet laughed at that, and then as her laughter faded, she tipped her head and eyed him for a moment, before asking, “So, your temporary base is in Toronto?”
“Sì.”
“But you’ll eventually go home to Italy?”
Santo hesitated, and then said, “As I mentioned, Julius is opening offices in North America, probably in both Toronto and New York, so I will most likely spend more of my time here in North America.”
“Oh,” Pet murmured and wondered why that made her happy. She’d already decided he wasn’t someone to tangle with. Clearing her throat, she asked, “What are the offices Julius is opening for, exactly?”
“Notte Construction.”
“You work for a construction company?” Pet asked, not sure why she was surprised. The man was huge. She could see him wrestling a jackhammer and such. But she’d never imagined that’s what he did and still found the idea unlikely.
“I am a civil engineer,” he announced as if guessing she’d been imagining him in a wife-beater and jeans, swinging a sledgehammer.
“Oh.” Pet blinked and smiled. That seemed more his style. He was smart and commanding and she could imagine him strutting around a construction site in a hard hat with a clipboard in hand, ordering people around.
“Here we go!”
Pet and Santo both stopped and looked up at that. Their waiter had returned with the main course.
Sitting back from the table to stay out of the way as the young man set down the plates, Pet glanced toward the appetizers that remained. There wasn’t much left. They’d both been eating as they spoke. Santo had eaten every last one of the chicken wings and between the two of them they’d eaten all the fried pickles and most of the potato skins. There were just a couple of jalapeño and cheese balls, and one potato skin left. In fact, Pet was actually kind of full now and eyed the steak Dylan set before her with a little regret. She would end up taking most of it home in a doggie bag, she knew. But it was best fresh off the grill, and now she regretted eating so many appetizers.
“Enjoy!” Dylan said cheerfully before moving away.
“Thank you.” Pet picked up her knife and fork and set to it, determined to make a good showing.
They had eaten in silence for several minutes when Santo suddenly said, “You intend to move Parker out of the house after school today.”
Pet glanced up from her plate and eyed him silently. His voice had been grim.
“That is your plan, is it not?” he asked quietly when she continued to stare at him. “That is why you were putting his gaming system and television in your car?”
“Yes,” Pet said finally, and then set down her knife and fork and reached for her drink. She picked it up but then simply held it as she explained, “Parker was left in my care. It’s my responsibility to keep him safe and between midnight creepers and the fanged visitor next door, the house isn’t looking very safe at the moment.”
“No,” he agreed quietly, but much to her surprise he looked extremely disappointed by the news.
Pet wondered about that as she watched him reach for his own drink. Was he disappointed? If he hadn’t controlled her last night when he’d kissed her—well, really, even if he had controlled her, no one had been controlling him, and there had been no mistaking the hard bulge in his jeans last night as anything but definite interest. So maybe he was disappointed at the thought of her leaving.
Of course, the more cautious side of her mind argued, men would screw a hole in the wall if it got them off, and she was the only female around. At least, the only one who knew about them and was easily available since she had been in the same house. That thought made Pet grimace as she watched Santo drink.
Bypassing the straw, he swallowed a large gulp of the clear bubbly liquid and then set it carefully back on the table before asking, “Where will you take him?”
“My place,” she admitted, and took a drink of her own beverage. A wry smile claimed her lips as she set it back on the table, though, and she added, “Which ought to be interesting.”
When he raised one eyebrow in question, Pet explained, “I live in an apartment building, which means more security and people around, which is all good, but . . .”
“But?” Santo prompted when she paused.
“But my building doesn’t allow pets,” she admitted. “Parker isn’t likely to agree to leaving Mrs. Wiggles behind, though.”
“So you plan to sneak the cat in?” he guessed.
Pet nodded. “Yeah, but getting Mrs. Wiggles and all that gear I just bought into my apartment without the apartment manager noticing and raising a fuss should be interesting.”
Santo was silent as he placed his last piece of steak in his mouth. It was only after he’d chewed and swallowed that he offered, “Perhaps I can help.”
“Schlepping all the stuff up?” she asked with amusement. “Or distracting the apartment manager with your magnificent yet intimidating physique while Parker and I sneak Mrs. Wiggles and all her gear in?”
Santo smiled suddenly, and she thought, pheromones or not, the guy was gorgeous enough to stop traffic. Then he asked, “You think I have a magnificent physique?”
Pet flushed, but snorted at the question. “Like you didn’t know that.”
“I did not know,” he assured her.
She didn’t buy that for a minute. Her expression becoming serious, she said, “I know you can read my mind, Santo, and so already know exactly how freaking hot and sexy I find you. Don’t deny it,” Pet said when he started to shake his head. “I knew about immortals being able to read and control minds before I encountered you guys. But even if I hadn’t,” she added firmly, forestalling him when he opened his mouth as if to protest, “Marguerite gave the game away when she reassured me that none of you were connected to the Brass Circle when I hadn’t mentioned them to her.”
Santo looked confused. “Who are the Brass Circle?”
Pet eyed him uncertainly. He really looked bewildered by the name.
“Is it a band?” he asked finally when she remained silent.
Her eyes widened at the question. Good Lord, he really had no idea who the Brass Circle was. Not that she hadn’t believed Marguerite when she’d said they weren’t connected to the organization, but since the Brass Circle had been uppermost in her mind since she’d noted the silver flecks in their eyes . . . Of course, she’d tried to block those thoughts the minute they’d cropped up in her head, Pet reminded herself. Still, Marguerite had picked up on them anyway.
“Pet,” he said quietly, sliding his hand across the table to gently touch hers.
The tingle that charged through her at the innocent touch had her stiffening and staring down at their hands.
“I cannot read or control you.”
She glanced up sharply. “What?”
“I cannot read or control you,” Santo repeated solemnly.
Pet stared at him blankly for a minute and then asked, “Why? Marguerite can.”
He withdrew his hand and straightened in his seat, but rather than answer her question, asked, “Just how much do you know about immortals? And how do you know about us?”
Pet peered down and picked up her fork to begin pushing her potatoes around on the plate. “I know that immortals started in Atlantis and have existed since before its fall. That their beginnings came from science and not some curse.”
“Nanos,” Santo said with a solemn nod. “Bioengineered nanos that were developed in an effort to create something that could heal people without the need for surgery and such.”
Pet hadn’t known that, but merely nodded and added, “I also know that while you’re similar to vampires in that you need extra blood, are stronger, can see better, and hear better than mere mortals, you aren’t dead and soulless like mythical vampires are supposed to be.”
“Anything else?” Santo queried when she fell silent.
“You can read mortals’ thoughts and control them,” she said quietly.
“Yes, usually we can. However, I cannot with you,” he assured her.
Pet was silent for a moment and then cleared her throat and asked, “So, last night, when we—when you kissed me . . .” She met his gaze. “You didn’t control me in any way?”
Santo looked so surprised and even horrified by the question, she knew the answer before he said, “No, of course not. Even if I could have controlled you, I would not have done that at such a time. It would be rape.”
“But Marguerite can read me,” she repeated with confusion. “And I’m pretty sure she’s controlled me a couple times too, and I know Bricker did to get me in the SUV.”
“Yes.” He nodded. “But I cannot.”
“Why?”
Santo was silent for so long, she was sure he wouldn’t answer, but then he sighed, shrugged, and said, “Sometimes that is just the way it is.”
Pet’s eyes narrowed. He was avoiding her gaze now and she suspected there was more to it than that, but he didn’t leave her the opportunity to press him on the issue. Glancing around, he spotted their waiter and waved him over.
“We should get moving or we will be late picking up Parker,” he said as he pulled out his wallet.