we were talking about hunting down a pusher delivering in this area.”
“I was invited to attend Luciano Primotti’s new movie release celebration.” Ludovico messed up Raphael’s hair. “Relax.”
Raphael looked down at his dusty jeans, and at his white shirt stained with a day worth of riding through Rome. “I can’t even pass for the help. They won’t let me in.”
“You underestimate your friends’ social influence.” Ludovico headed toward the entrance of the villa.
“Don’t worry.” Edoardo walked past Raphael and motioned for him to follow.
At the white wrought-iron gate, a man, wearing a dark suite and holding a tablet and a stylus, checked off people as they passed through. When it was their turn, the man pointed down his nose at Raphael, but Ludovico announced, “Ludovico Cantari, with two guests.”
The man’s face showed his disconcert for the briefest of moments, then he forced a smile. “Good evening, my lord.” With a slight bow, he raised his hand to the side to let them in. “Please.”
Raphael felt judging eyes burning holes into his back as he headed toward the staircase, and walked faster.
Edoardo turned toward him. “Slow down. You’re a welcome guest.”
Raphael forced himself to do as Edoardo had suggested, but all his senses were on alert. Never in his life, he had visited a house like the one he was about to enter. “I had not realized how well-off you guys really are.” The insight made him look at them with different eyes. “I mean, I knew you were rich but—” Worried he would offend them, he raked his brain for the right words but they eluded him. “You never told me you were filthy rich—” He slammed a hand against his mouth.
“That’s because we aren’t particularly proud of it. It’s not that we did something to earn it.” Ludovico reached the first step of the staircase, and took Edoardo’s hand in his. “Let’s make a grand entrance, shall we?”
The couple entered the villa by a triple glass door that revealed the largest foyer Raphael had ever seen outside of a department store entrance. Inside, polished marbles, white columns, gilded mirrors, and Venetian glass chandeliers in pale blues framed the room.
Dizziness overtook Raphael. Too many scents, too much noise, and the heat that—despite the villa must have had a state of the art AC—was hell to endure. Plus, he remembered he hadn’t eaten much of the dim sum feast Edoardo had ordered.
As if reading his mind, or maybe Ludovico had heard Raphael’s stomach rumbling, the were-puma grabbed a whole tray from a waiter. “Eat before you pass out.” He picked a tramezzino from the plate and offered it to Raphael. “Ham and eggs. You’re a carnivore, right?”
“Yes, thanks.” The small triangular sandwich of soft, crust-less white bread tasted delicious. Raphael was amazed at the texture of the bread and at the delicacy of the ham. “Rich people food tastes better.” Avoiding the vegetarian selection that he left to the shifters, he devoured everything else on the tray.
Edoardo intercepted another waiter, and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water with one hand and three glass-blown chalices with the other. “Have some before you choke.”
Only when his stomach was full and he had gulped down several glasses, did Raphael realize how close he had been from fainting. But the clock was ticking. “Let’s find what we came for and get out of here.”
“Right on it.” Ludovico led them in and out of several adjacent rooms. He paused once or twice in his meandering to exchange greetings with people who asked after his family.
By the time they reached the internal garden, Edoardo was recognized as the Argentinian ambassador’s son and people approached him as well.
“Guys, I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t have time for socializing.” Even though the full moon was two weeks away, Raphael’s wolf paced inside his mind, demanding action, and he had a hard time keeping his
“I was invited to attend Luciano Primotti’s new movie release celebration.” Ludovico messed up Raphael’s hair. “Relax.”
Raphael looked down at his dusty jeans, and at his white shirt stained with a day worth of riding through Rome. “I can’t even pass for the help. They won’t let me in.”
“You underestimate your friends’ social influence.” Ludovico headed toward the entrance of the villa.
“Don’t worry.” Edoardo walked past Raphael and motioned for him to follow.
At the white wrought-iron gate, a man, wearing a dark suite and holding a tablet and a stylus, checked off people as they passed through. When it was their turn, the man pointed down his nose at Raphael, but Ludovico announced, “Ludovico Cantari, with two guests.”
The man’s face showed his disconcert for the briefest of moments, then he forced a smile. “Good evening, my lord.” With a slight bow, he raised his hand to the side to let them in. “Please.”
Raphael felt judging eyes burning holes into his back as he headed toward the staircase, and walked faster.
Edoardo turned toward him. “Slow down. You’re a welcome guest.”
Raphael forced himself to do as Edoardo had suggested, but all his senses were on alert. Never in his life, he had visited a house like the one he was about to enter. “I had not realized how well-off you guys really are.” The insight made him look at them with different eyes. “I mean, I knew you were rich but—” Worried he would offend them, he raked his brain for the right words but they eluded him. “You never told me you were filthy rich—” He slammed a hand against his mouth.
“That’s because we aren’t particularly proud of it. It’s not that we did something to earn it.” Ludovico reached the first step of the staircase, and took Edoardo’s hand in his. “Let’s make a grand entrance, shall we?”
The couple entered the villa by a triple glass door that revealed the largest foyer Raphael had ever seen outside of a department store entrance. Inside, polished marbles, white columns, gilded mirrors, and Venetian glass chandeliers in pale blues framed the room.
Dizziness overtook Raphael. Too many scents, too much noise, and the heat that—despite the villa must have had a state of the art AC—was hell to endure. Plus, he remembered he hadn’t eaten much of the dim sum feast Edoardo had ordered.
As if reading his mind, or maybe Ludovico had heard Raphael’s stomach rumbling, the were-puma grabbed a whole tray from a waiter. “Eat before you pass out.” He picked a tramezzino from the plate and offered it to Raphael. “Ham and eggs. You’re a carnivore, right?”
“Yes, thanks.” The small triangular sandwich of soft, crust-less white bread tasted delicious. Raphael was amazed at the texture of the bread and at the delicacy of the ham. “Rich people food tastes better.” Avoiding the vegetarian selection that he left to the shifters, he devoured everything else on the tray.
Edoardo intercepted another waiter, and grabbed a bottle of sparkling water with one hand and three glass-blown chalices with the other. “Have some before you choke.”
Only when his stomach was full and he had gulped down several glasses, did Raphael realize how close he had been from fainting. But the clock was ticking. “Let’s find what we came for and get out of here.”
“Right on it.” Ludovico led them in and out of several adjacent rooms. He paused once or twice in his meandering to exchange greetings with people who asked after his family.
By the time they reached the internal garden, Edoardo was recognized as the Argentinian ambassador’s son and people approached him as well.
“Guys, I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t have time for socializing.” Even though the full moon was two weeks away, Raphael’s wolf paced inside his mind, demanding action, and he had a hard time keeping his
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