That had convinced her, but she’d still instructed me on how to act as if I was just out on a routine shopping trip.
I wasn’t really sure what was in the envelope. I’d only deduced it couldn’t just be a letter or money. Both of those could be sent electronically. I had a feeling it was a file of some kind. Possibly with information about House Salvatici she was smuggling out of Italy.
It occurred to me that Felicity could be involved deeper in the uprising against House Salvatici than simply smuggling sex kittens out of this depraved world. But I wasn’t quite sure I was ready to know all the details.
Small doses of information. That was how I was keeping my brain from completely freaking out these days.
I hadn’t spent any time in Florence, and the history lover in me wanted to explore the museums, to see the David, to climb the hillside at the Boboli Gardens, but I resisted and focused on my task, telling myself I’d make Luc bring me back here another day.
The San Lorenzo markets were just as Felicity had described. The Central Market was an indoor, two-story food market in an old warehouse. The outer market was a colorful and cheerful affair consisting of stalls selling leather, clothing, and souvenirs along Via Ariento from the Church of San Lorenzo all the way to Via Nazionale.
I perused the Central Market first, taking my time to shop and purchase fresh meats and cheeses for the villa, then wandered through the outer market. I was careful not to spend too much time at any one stall, and I continually checked my surroundings to make sure I wasn’t being followed.
Confident I looked like a tourist in my long dress, sweater, wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses, I darted into an alleyway away from the market and searched for the address Felicity had given me.
It took me roughly ten minutes to find it. An antique bookstore in an even older building. As I pulled the glass door open, a bell chimed above me. Rows and stacks of ancient tomes lined the shop, and the scents of wood and paper filled my senses.
A short, elderly man with a round chest and small spectacles stepped out of a back room and stopped near a counter at the rear of the shop. “Come posso aiutarla?“
“Um.” I searched for the right words. “Parla inglese?”
“Sì, signora. How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Signore Polermo. I was told he works here.”
“Sì.” He lifted bushy salt and pepper eyebrows in anticipation. “I am Signore Polermo.”
I exhaled a relieved breath. “Felicity Merrick sent me.” I tugged the envelope from my bag and held it out to him. “She said you were expecting this.”
He took the envelope from my hand and looked from it to my face. Then his dark eyes widened, and he said, “Mio Dio. You are the American. The one who married Signore Salvatici.”
Apparently, word had spread. My cheeks warmed as I gripped my bag in both hands in front of me. “Sì.”
He rushed to the open doorway behind the counter with the envelope still in his hand. “Signore Vecellio,” he called, looking through the doorway and waving his hand excitedly. “Sbrigati! Veloce!”
He said something else in Italian I didn’t understand, but I was too shocked by the man stepping through the doorway to try to translate the words.
“I-I know you,” I muttered, my eyes growing wide.
He was thin, tall, with a wrinkled face and long white hair pulled back in a tail at the nape of his neck, and though he was dressed in loose slacks, a white button-down shirt, and a long deep brown vest instead of a full-length dark robe, I recognized him immediately.
I recognized him as the man who’d grabbed me in Rome after that fashion show at Santo Spirito in Sassia and tried to pull me away from Luc.
“Signora Salvatici,” Signore Palermo said, holding his hand out in introduction toward me with a wide smile.
Signore Vecellio’s dark eyes narrowed on my face, and he eased closer to me, but he didn’t step around the counter or touch me. And I was glad because I suddenly wasn’t sure what I’d do if he tried. “Signora Salvatici?”
Signore Palermo nodded several times and spoke quickly in Italian. The white-haired man tore his gaze from me and listened, then slowly nodded and looked back at me once more.
I had no idea what was going on. Luc had told me this man was a member of the Seventh Sanctum, a group who opposed the Entente and was working behind the scenes to rid the Houses from the world.
“I-I’m confused.” I looked toward Signore Palermo. Felicity hadn’t said anything about the Seventh Sanctum, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she even knew of their involvement with Signore Polermo.
“Yes?” Signore Vecellio said, watching me carefully.
“The last time I saw you, you were trying to kidnap me.”
“Not kidnap. Rescue.”
After all the things I’d learned about Luc’s family, I could see his point. But he didn’t know Luc at all. I straightened my spine. “I don’t need to be rescued from my husband.”
Signore Vecellio placed his hands on the counter. “Signore Polermo speaks very highly of your husband. He says he will make a great leader very soon. It is the intention of the Sanctum to rid the world of all those who try to exert authority over those they have no claim to—”
“But,” Signore Polermo said, rushing to his side with a pointed look. “The Sanctum has realized the benefits of joining with la Resistenza. Together, we are stronger, and together we have the opportunity to instill true change in Europe.”
“Sì,” Signore Vecellio said, nodding his head, his eyes still on me. “And across the world. Of course, much depends on what happens in House Salvatici. And the hidden intentions of your new husband.”
I wasn’t about to get into any of that with these men, and part of me wasn’t sure I should leave that envelope with Signore Polermo, but this conversation was quickly getting out of control, and I wasn’t about to be sucked into a discussion that was over my head.
“I must be leaving. Signore Polermo.” I nodded his way. “Signore Vecellio. Buongiorno.”
I turned for the door, but Signore Vecellio’s voice stopped me when he said, “Signora Salvatici. Un momento per favore.”
I stopped with one hand on the glass door and slowly turned back to face him.
“Do you know what the Salvatici name translates to in English?”
I shook my head.
“It means savage. You may trust your husband, but he is and will always be a Salvatici in every sense of the word. Be careful. Even the lost pup can be reintroduced to the pack, and after enough time, assimilate until it is virtually indistinguishable from the other beasts.”
My heart raced, and my hands grew damp as I stared at him. Fingers shaking, I pulled the door open and moved onto the street, fighting back the chill suddenly sweeping down my spine.
The man was wrong. Luc was not like his family. He wouldn’t become like the rest of his family simply because he was back in Italy and working for them. He wouldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen. I fumbled for my phone and dialed Luc’s cell, desperate to hear his voice and prove to myself that would never happen.
The line only rang once, then Luc’s deep voice filled my ear as he said, “Ah, angioletto. You have perfect timing. I was just thinking about you.”