Page 6 of Hard Lessons

“Yes.” Serena forced a smile and squeezed a little closer to Luca. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure. Anything for my favorite nephew and his beautiful lady.” Giovanni turned, hands on hips.

Serena’s heart tripped along. What exactly were they to do with this MP fellow?

“David Watson,” Giovanni said, “is rather partial to a liquid lunch on Friday at his favorite haunt, The Rook and Tower. It’s an upmarket public house, discreet, overpriced, dark corners for dark deeds. Think of it as the London version of Maritozzaro,si.”

Luca nodded. “I’ve been there a few times.”

Serena also knew Maritozzaro. It was a Rome hangout for mafia types who were schmoozing with the corrupt population of the police, justice department, and of course politicians.

Giovanni looked at his Rolex. “Which means you’ll have to get a move on.”

“Now?” Serena said.

“Si, now.” Giovanni nodded. It was clear he expected to be obeyed without question.

“What do you need from him?” Luca asked.

“I need.” Giovanni paused then jabbed his finger in the air, the softness that had been around his eyes hardened, leaving anyone who saw him in no doubt he was not a cuddly old Italian grandfather. “I need him to know he cannot screw me over this way. He owes me favors, there’s promises he hasn’t been good for. What’s more I know he’s had the ear of the Parvo.” He looked as though he might spit after saying the name of Cosa Nostra’s rival. “He’s been pulling strings that aren’t playing to my tune and I want him to hurt, in here.” He banged his chest. “Go for the heart, the jugular, make his balls twists until they go fucking blue.”

Luca nodded. “We can do that.”

“I knew I could rely on you, nephew.” Giovanni gestured to Serena. “Put a dress on, some lipstick, heels. I’m sure his wife of fifteen years would throw him to the paparazzi dogs if she saw him salivating over a gorgeous Italian woman when he’s supposed to be in the House of Commons studying bylaws and amendments. Get evidence, photographs. Show them to him and send them to me. I want this guy over a barrel and squirming. Maybe then he’ll play nicely for my team.”

“Of course.” Serena set her hands on her hips. This was something she could do, make a man salivate. So she made for the bedroom and her suitcase; the sooner they got to the job at hand, the sooner they could get back to their new life. “I’ll go and get changed.”

Chapter Two

The Rook and Towerwas situated down a back street on the junction between Westminster and Chelsea. Tall with worn brickwork and window-boxes stuffed full of ivy and daisies. The windows were high and dark, the woodwork painted shiny racing car green. Three stone steps, worn with centuries of footfall, led the way to the closed front door.

On the opposite side of the street, Giovanni’s bearded lackey was in position. Big and brooding, he lurked in a doorway puffing on a cigarette.

Once inside the tall-ceilinged bar area, Luca leaned in close to Serena. “No more than necessary, you’re mine, remember.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done.”

---