“Thank you.”
“The thanks are mine.” Filomena inclined her head. “The tarì are part of our treasury. You honor Naples with your assistance in this matter.”
“I look forward to our continued cooperation,” Tenzin said. “Ben, let’s go.”
He followed Tenzin, throwing Filomena one more smile over his shoulder. She returned it before he lost her in the crowd.
“Careful,” Tenzin said.
“What?” He stopped looking for Filomena in the mass of people. “Careful what?”
“She’s powerful. Ambitious too. And she’s playing you.”
Ben felt a bite of annoyance. “Listen, Tiny, I’m not a teenager—”
“If you think she doesn’t know who you are, you’re kidding yourself.” Tenzin didn’t look angry, only amused. “You don’t actually think Alfonso’s second believes I brought my yoga instructor to Naples, do you?”
Well, yeah, but he decided to play it off. “Good. That means I won’t have to worry about bending into impossible shapes when we hook up.”
Tenzin laughed. “‘Hook up?’ You act as if you’d be catching a fish on a line. Trust me, if anyone is the hunter in this situation, it is not you.”
His cheeks burned. “This really isn’t any of your business.”
“On the contrary, it is certainly my business.” Her face grew serious. “Human girls are one thing, but she’s a three-hundred-year-old immortal. Have you had sex with a vampire before?”
He clenched his jaw in an effort to rein in his temper. It worked. Some. “That’s none of your business either.”
They walked into Piazza Bellini, the crowds of young people no less dense than they had been outside Alfonso’s club. Tenzin walked Ben to the gates of his hotel and turned to face him.
“Sex is one thing, Benjamin. Don’t let her bite you. We get possessive when we bite.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
She shrugged. “You’ll do what you want. Just remember, don’t sabotage this deal with your ignorant libido. Alfonso wants me to find his coins. You help me and you’ll get twenty percent of the finder’s fee, which is not insignificant.”
Sex he didn’t want to discuss, but money was always on the table. “Forty percent and I’m an altar boy until after we deliver the coins.”
“Twenty-five. You may flirt, but you’d end up being an altar boy anyway. You’re too smart to be her plaything.”
“Who said I wouldn’t be playing her? Thirty percent.”
She cocked her head. “Done. I’m going to Switzerland tomorrow night. Go back to Rome and look busy. Help Zeno in the library. Maybe head to Perugia for a few days of research. I’ll be in touch when I need you.”
“Sounds like a plan, Tiny.” Ben grinned. “Switzerland, huh? Don’t forget to take a sweater.”
Chapter Four
BEN SLEPT UNTIL NOON THE next day, then decided to wander around Naples and enjoy some of the street art the city was known for. More than one artist who’d gotten his or her start in graffiti had been signed by major agents in the past few years. It was fascinating to see the blend of styles. Art of any kind fascinated him, but street art, with its inherently fleeting nature, touched something in Ben’s soul.
He stood at the mouth of an alley, staring down at a small white figure painted on the soot-black stone of an alleyway corner. The figure was holding a tiny sword high against a flying dragon. A red feather was perched in his cap.
The painting might have been there for months or hours. Who knew when city workers might come and paint over it? Another artist could come and wipe it away with something darker or brighter or coarser or more colorful. But the artist had taken the time, probably in the dead of night, to put her mark on that wall, hoping to touch a passerby. For the moment Ben looked at that tiny figure fighting off the dragon, Ben and the artist were in the same space.
Fleeting.
Like the painting.
Here today. Gone tomorrow.
He was the tiny hero with the feather in his cap, fighting things impossibly powerful. He was the painting on the wall. No grand masterpiece preserved and admired for eternity. His life would be a blink. A quick glance from the immortal pedestrians of history.
No wonder the little figure flew a red feather in his cap. No wonder his sword was held so high.
Tiny hope. Foolish courage.
Ben pulled out his phone and snapped a picture before he continued to walk down the Spaccanapoli, the narrow road splitting the heart of old Naples. He stopped for some gelato, then wandered some more. Bought a few trinkets in a shop. Watched a drummer when he finally arrived back in Piazza del Gesù Nuovo, the spiked facade of the church a reminder of his meeting the previous night.
Naples was… odd. Fiercely different from other Italian cities he knew. Gloriously excessive. He wished that Beatrice could visit. He knew she’d love it.
His phone buzzed in his pocket with a text message from Fabi.
T called the house. She said to make sure you go to the archeological museum before you meet your new girlfriend.
Ben texted back: Ha-ha.
??? Do I need to be jealous?
He shook his head. Leave it to Tenzin to try to cause trouble.
No, he texted back. And don’t you have a boyfriend?
Never hurts to keep your options open. ;) I want details when you get back. Stay safe.
Always.
He pushed away from the wall where he’d been searching for shade and wandered back to the Piazza Bellini. The Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli was only a few blocks from his hotel, and while he’d heard about the mosaic collection there—famous for its detailed relics from Pompeii—Ben had a feeling it was the coins and medals exhibit Tenzin wanted him to visit.