Page 58 of Heart Over Heels

“Yes, sir.”

I didn’t know Stefano well. He wasn’t involved in the parts of the Basilica’s business I was privy to. Mostly, he lurked in the periphery—drifting through the halls, trailing Antonella like a shadow, or idling on the fringes of the gaming floor. In my months of employment, this conversation had already outlasted any I’d had with him.

He came within arm’s reach, an imposing figure by any measure, blocking the light and casting me in shadow. At six feet tall, it took a lot to make me feel small, but Stefano managed it with ease.

His gaze dropped to the paper I held, then he extended his hand. “May I see?”

As if I could refuse.

I gave it over and endured the pause as Stefano’s eyes moved across the page. His look of scrutiny relaxed into surprise before he breathed a soft, “Oh.”

Clearly, the letter was not what he’d expected.

He hadn’t been in the meeting with Antonella, Maslow, and me, but I knew that he and his sister were close. It was possible—likely, even—that he knew about the assignment I’d been given and understood its ramifications better than I did.

That was the part that gnawed at me: the secrecy. I’d been trained to accept the limits of need-to-know, but recently, I found myself railing against them.

Stefano folded the paper in half and added a sharp crease before giving it back to me.

“Well,” he said, voice measured. “This is regrettable. I’m sorry to see you go.”

I took the letter, more rattled by his civility than I would’ve been by anger. He wouldn’t have noticed if I disappeared, and he certainly wasn’t sorry about it. Unless he, too, had a vested interest in the task I’d left unfinished.

But if he could play at good manners, so could I.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied.

Another halt. A bloated moment of wondering whether I should sidestep him and go to the desk. Drop the letter and run. That was an assignment I could complete.

But I didn’t move as Stefano continued to watch me with that same steady look, every bit a raptor in perch, waiting to dive.

“I assume you have cause,” he said at last.

“I do.”

One of his brows lifted. “Do you mind sharing what it is?”

I tightened my grip on the letter, its folded edge like a blade in my hand. “It isn’t a matter of the Basilica. I’m grateful for the work here, but my…” I hesitated, weighing every word. “Circumstances have changed.”

Stefano turned his head, silver hair gleaming. “Changed how?”

“Respectfully, sir, that’s personal.”

The angel’s wings rustled as he studied me. The curve of his mouth suggested amusement or irritation, but I couldn’t tell which.

“Personal,” he repeated then inclined his head. “I’ll leave it with you, then.”

“I appreciate your understanding.”

When I pivoted toward Antonella’s desk, I half expected Stefano to block my way. Instead, he only watched as I slipped past, my footsteps echoing across the marble.

Placing the letter on the otherwise immaculate surface carried a weight of finality. It looked stark there, brightly white and folded tight, its contents hidden.

I turned again to find Stefano lingering. If he wanted to say something, I wished he would just come out with it.

I gave him the chance while moving slowly toward the elevator. I had just pressed the call button when his voice rang out.

“Mister James?”