Relief flooded his face. He lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a deep, lingering kiss against my fingers.
"Silly girl. There'll be plenty of chances. I promise I'll take you. I swear it."
Then he hurried off to the compound. There was business with the captains that couldn't wait, there was always business that couldn't wait. The front door closed behind him and two soldiers fell into step at his back, their footsteps fading down the gravel drive.
I watched his retreating figure, straight-backed and sure, and sat there motionless for a long time.
Ermanno. There is no "plenty of chances" for us. Not anymore.
After Ermanno left, I sent someone to bring Katarina from the safehouse.
She arrived with one hand braced against the small of her back, walking at a leisurely pace. The soldier who'd driven her stood by the car until I nodded for him to go. When she reached me, she met my gaze without a flicker of fear.
"Gioia Galante. So you did recognize me yesterday."
I looked her over, head to toe.
A willowy frame, a face no bigger than the palm of a hand. A classic southern beauty.