Page 2 of The Pretender
He shakes his head and shrugs at the same time. “Kind of. My family lives there, and we own a winery.”
“Ah.”
He offers his hand. “Amadeo.”
I shake his hand. “What a unique name.”
“Yeah, it is. My parents were being creative. Most people call me Deo.”
“Balt.”
Deo raises an eyebrow. “Now that’s a unique name.”
I chuckle. “Balthazar, but it’s a mouthful. Most people call me Balt.” When they aren’t calling me “Money man.” “What is there to do in Robin’s Grove?”
“Nothing. Nada. Not one thing.”
“I see.”
“Madison has stuff but, again, it’s February. It’s cold as fuck.”
“Colder than here?”
He nods. “Way colder.”
Perfect. I can just hole up somewhere where no one would even think to look for me. An announcer starts talking over the intercom.
“Passengers of flight 1182A, the tram to the airport hotel is ready. Please proceed to baggage claim and follow the signs for the tram.”
Before she even finishes speaking, there’s a mad dash that way.
“Shit,” Deo mumbles, grabbing his bag. “We better go if we want a room.”
I nod, lifting my messenger bag. “Right.”
We hurry in that direction, navigating crowds of desperate people, and as fast as I walk, Deo keeps up with me. We make it to baggage claim in a few minutes, slightly winded but in time to take the first tram to the hotel.
Deo leans against the pole between us, stabilizing himself as the tram surges forward, glancing out the window before we’re plunged into the artificial light of the tunnels.
“Is someone expecting you?” I ask.
Deo shakes his head. “I haven’t told my family yet. It’s a surprise, I guess.”
I notice his hesitation. “Will they be happy to see you?”
“Oh yeah.” He smiles softly. “My mom especially. My nonna will be happy too.”
“Italian family?”
He nods happily. “Yep. Benedetti.”
I smile back. “Cassiano.”
“Nice.”
The tram lurches to a stop and the doors whoosh open, blasting us with cold air and a bit of snow. The hotel is just across a small walkway, but fucking hell, it’s cold. The temperature has dropped a lot since I got to the airport.
The rush of people exiting the tram is worse than the walk to baggage claim, and for some reason, I reach out and grab Deo’s hand to pull him forward to the hotel. As expected, there’s a huge line of people all demanding a room. Even with five hotel workers, it’s a lot to manage. The hope of sleeping in a quiet room is fading quickly.
