Fantasy in Lingerie (Lingerie 6)

That painting was crystal clear—but fucking confusing.

The silence lingered on the phone between us, growing louder and louder.

“I feel like there’s something wrong.” She conveyed her honest truth to me, showing her vulnerability more and more. “Is there…?”

“No, baby. I just…need some space right now.” She’d asked for space after I kept my vendetta against her family even though she’d saved my life. I wasn’t sure what she’d thought about during that week we were apart, but it seemed like nothing had changed. Now it was my turn to consider this strange relationship.

“It’s because of the painting, isn’t it?” She sighed into the phone, the pain heavy in her voice.

I wanted to lie and say that wasn’t true, but I told her I would always be honest with her. “Baby, you asked me to keep a promise. Do you remember what it was?”

She was quiet for a long time, not because she couldn’t remember, but because she didn’t want to say it out loud. “I asked you never to leave me…”

“And I promised I wouldn’t. I’m not going anywhere. I just need some time.”

More silence.

I stayed on the line, unsure what else could be said at this point.

“I thought you said you weren’t the kind of man who kept promises?”

No, I wasn’t. All I cared about was money and sex, not my reputation. “I’m not. But I always keep my promises to you.”

Max stepped inside my office and tossed the large yellow folder at me. “It’s all there.”

I ripped open the top and slid the papers onto the table. I looked at the photos and itinerary, along with the information about security and the number of men at each place and the kind of weapons they were packing.

Max helped himself to the scotch as he sat across from me. “Are you sure you want to do this? It seemed like you had a good thing going with Vanessa.”

I picked up the photo of Conway Barsetti and examined it, seeing him holding hands with his fiancée outside the old theater in the center of Milan. He was dressed in a black suit that fit his sculpted shoulders and thick arms. He didn’t smile, and I’d never seen him smile in public or real life. His fiancée, on the other hand, couldn’t look happier. Her baby bump stuck out just a little bit.

“He’s going to be at a show next Saturday. Debuting a new line of lingerie. It’s going to be here in Milan. I managed to grab all the security information from my buddy. I know who’s on his crew and what they’ll be carrying.”

“Good.” Conway Barsetti took his team everywhere he went, not just because of the paparazzi, but because he knew he had enemies everywhere. People were naturally envious of billionaires.

Max continued to stare at me as he drank his scotch. He wiped his mouth with the back of his forearm. “You’re actually going to do this?”

My perfect shot was next Saturday. Conway would exit out of the back of the building and into his SUV. Little would he know, I would be waiting for him. I’d take him and his fiancée prisoner, and I would do the very thing I couldn’t do to Vanessa—slit their throats. It would start the blood war—and the Barsettis would come after me.

But they would be so delirious with rage they wouldn’t be able to think clearly.

They’d expose themselves—and I would murder each one.

Except Vanessa.

“I’m thinking about it,” I answered.

“I don’t know a lot about the Barsettis, but the two brothers have dark pasts. They’ve annihilated every enemy they’ve ever had.”

“I’m aware,” I said coldly.

“And Vanessa saved your life.”

“Her mistake.”

Max narrowed his eyes on my face. “I admire your determination and your refusal to let pussy get in the way of your vendetta, but this isn’t going to be a simple kill like it was with Joe. This is much more complicated because there are so many Barsettis. They’re loyal to each other. And the second you turn on them, Vanessa will turn on you. She won’t hesitate to pull the trigger this time.”

“I’d judge her if she didn’t.”

His eyes fell in disappointment. “I’m not helping you with this. It’s just going to get me killed.”

“That’s fine. I never asked for your help.”

He downed the rest of his scotch and left the glass on my desk. “Good luck, Bones.” He left my office and helped himself to the elevator. Once the sound of the machinery died away and everything turned quiet, I knew I was alone.

I spread out the different pictures of the Barsetti family, looking at their files with a keen eye. The men were all similar, sharing the Barsetti bloodline with dark hair, green eyes, and Tuscan skin. The wives were much fairer, softer. When I looked at Crow and Pearl Barsetti, I saw a photographic combination of Vanessa’s features. She possessed her mother’s softness and her father’s might. She took her mother’s angled face and inherited her father’s eyes. These two people made the most beautiful woman in the world.