“Yeah, but I’m cute, too.” He kissed the top of her head as they continued to walk. “And you really are beautiful.”

The smile spread across her face as she beamed.

“Are you missing school?”

He snorted. “What do you think?”

She laughed a little. “Are you missing your girlfriends?”

“Well, probably not as much as I should be. You know what I really miss?”

“Basketball?”

“Besides basketball, that’s a given.”

“What?”

“Getting my license.” He groaned. “I can’t believe I’m finally sixteen and in a foreign country where I can’t even drive.”

“Aw, Benny.” She hugged his waist a little. “Maybe Gio will get you a Ferrari for all your hard work.”

“Oh, that’s so likely! Why don’t you suggest that to him when he gets back?”

They both fell silent after that. It was a subject they tried not to bring up. After the last communication from Istanbul, no one had heard from his uncle or Carwyn in over three weeks. Ben’s world felt like it was balanced on a very thin edge. He could only imagine how Beatrice felt.

“I will,” Dez said quietly. “As soon as he’s back, I’ll tell him how helpful you’ve been. You’re a first-rate hacker.”

“Shhh. Don’t tell B that I’m better than her now. It’ll hurt her feelings.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

Dez and Ben had spent weeks sifting through all the information on the hard drive from the Bulgarian plant. Then they’d systematically been going through all the public records of Livia’s companies. It was a good thing that Italian seemed to come so easily to Ben. Between his knowledge of Spanish, which he’d taught himself to read as a child, and his Latin education with Giovanni, he had picked up a working knowledge of Italian within weeks of arriving in Rome. In the six months they’d been there, his fluency had only grown. He and Dez had been a vital part of discovering Livia’s holdings and assets. They were still tracing the money that had funded the cosmetics factory, but so far, the Roman noblewoman seemed to be the only immortal with a concrete tie to the place, which was both frustrating and reassuring.

“You know,” he said. “I was thinking about that German corporation we found that she funneled money through last April, if we could—”

“Hey, this is supposed to be our non-work time, mister.”

“I know, I’m just…”

“What?”

He stopped in front of what looked like a Renaissance era oil painting on wood. “Bored,” he said. “I’m really, really bored.”

“I know the computer work isn’t exactly the most thrilling, but—”

“Maybe if Matt would let me, you know, help with some other stuff.”

Dez cocked a skeptical eyebrow in his direction. “Ben, not even I know most of what Matt does. He gets information in… slightly less orthodox ways, you know? I don’t think you want to get mixed up in any of that.”

But he did. He stared at the painting of the men carrying the body of Jesus to his tomb. He glanced at the small plaque. Rafael. Then he looked more closely at the painting.

“Hey, Dez?” He cocked his head and leaned forward. “Is that…”

Her eyes were narrowed at the painting, too. “Looks kind of like…”

“Emil Conti?”

“That’s what I was thinking, too.”

They exchanged a glance and stepped back.

“Dez, our lives are really weird.”

“And you’re bored anyway.”

“What can I say? I have a high tolerance for weirdness.”

They had detoured down a street near the train station to check out a bookstore that catered to English speaking tourists later that afternoon. Both were sorting through their finds when the scooter almost knocked Dez over.

“Hey!” Ben shouted at the driver in Italian. “Watch where you’re going!” The driver didn’t turn around or even notice them. Ben turned back to Dez. “You okay?”

She was staring at the retreating man on the scooter with a frown on her face. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.”

“What’s the look?”

“That driver.”

“What about him? He was an asshole.” Ben took the bag from her hand and helped her back onto the narrow sidewalk.

“No, not the driver, exactly. The uniform. I recognize—that’s the service she uses!”

“What?” Ben shook his head and wondered how fast they could leave the somewhat rough streets of the Termini neighborhood. “Who?”

“Livia. I’ve been wondering—you know how Gio and Carwyn joke about how she’ll only send stuff by uniformed messenger? Well, it’s kind of true. Back when they were getting invitations and stuff from her—when we first got here—I noticed that they never came in the mail. They always came by delivery. Even that crazy dress she sent for B, it was the same uniform that guy had. That must be the company she uses.”

Ben looked around, scanning the shops along the Via Marsala and wondering how fast they could walk back to the house. Even though the area was improving, Dez was still dressed far too nicely to go unnoticed by the dark, familiar eyes of the pickpockets and thieves that trolled the neighborhood. He looked around and wondered if he should just call for a cab.