Page 311 of Niccolo

Fausto waited until Severino was long gone before snarling, “The fucker’s going to make me work for his goddamn vote.”

“You don’t think you can bribe him?” I asked.

“Not at a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Are you absolutelysureyou want me to do the questioning tomorrow?” I asked nervously.

From how Fausto had described it, the Council meeting would be a trial, and I would essentially play the role of his defense attorney.

“I’ll be the lead witness, so it’s best if you handle it,” he replied. “It’ll give me more time to strategize.”

“Are you sure they’ll accept my presence?”

I was very aware that I would be the only femaleconsiglierein the room.

“No,” Fausto admitted. “But in the end, it will come down to who we can bribe. Don’t worry, we’ve prepared adequately. You’ll do fine. Now, let’s go see the rest of the house before dinner.”

Accompanied by Dante, we walked through the magnificent halls until we came to a beautiful library on the second floor.

The double wooden doors were carved with ornate patterns of flowers and vines. The walls were covered in mahogany paneling, and a large desk was situated at the far end of the room.

“Very nice,” Fausto said as we strolled inside, then noticed something off to our right. “What’s this?”

There was a bank of five monitors on a wooden bureau. Each screen displayed four crystal-clear shots of thepalazzo’sexterior of thepalazzo– a total of 20 angles.

“Must be their security area,” Dante said.

“Yes, I can see that,” Fausto said witheringly. “It’s a little odd to have it in alibrary,though.”

“Yes, sir,” Dante replied in a neutral voice.

Fausto walked over to the desk. “Dante, bring me my laptop. I’d like to do some work tonight, and this seems as good a place as any.”

“Yes, sir,” Dante said, then exited the library.

My cell phone buzzed in my purse.

As I reached in to get it, my hand brushed against the cool metal of the Sig Sauer P365 Dante had given me.

I’d brought it…

Just in case.

I checked my phone, and my heart skipped a beat.

Niccolo.

“Who is it?” Fausto asked. “A certainconsigliere?”

“Yes,” I admitted.

“What does he want?”

“To meet.”

“Where?”

“Someplace called the Galleria Borghese.”

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