The Immortal Greek Read Free Page B

rest of the body. “From what I can see, there are no signs of struggle. The angle of his limbs in relation to the body suggests he jumped.” She paused a moment to study the boy’s face. The resemblance with Tommaso hurt her, but she relegated the thought to a corner of her mind. She took the dead’s hand in hers, then turned it this way and that, looking for any clue that would confirm the obvious. She carefully looked under the fingernails of both his hands, then lowered his bottom lip to reveal irregular, but white teeth. Although she already knew she wouldn’t find anything there, she passed her hand through the boy’s hair. “After searching the body, no trace of Immortal Death’s potion found.” She pushed her legs up and looked at Alexander Drako, regretting she must follow procedure to the letter. “I’m done here. I’ll search the house next.”
    ****
    Alexander watched as Ravenna Del Sarto called the Council, asking for the para ambulance to come pick up the body in haste. She hung up the phone and stared into his eyes, repeating her statement, but making it sound like an order now.
    “My house is yours to command,” he hurried to say before she would become unpleasant. Without waiting for her to follow, he walked back inside. A moment later, the staccato sound of her high heels filled his ears. She had shapely legs. Long legs. Muscular legs with the kind of calves you see in women who like to run.
    “We’ll start with the first floor and work our way up.”
    He wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or recording her voice. He didn’t turn to find out, but led her to the living room.
    She caught up with him and stopped to face him, a slight annoyance visible in the way her right eye rapidly blinked. “I need you to ask your guests to vacate the premises.”
    He imagined she would talk formal in bed too. “Anything to facilitate your job, Miss Del Sarto.”
    She let out a breath. “I appreciate your help.”
    He knew she was pulling the words through her teeth, but decided to be the better man and called for Pietro, asking him to let everyone out. A moment later, the exodus started. Ophelia was among the first to take leave from him, saying she would check in the next day. He couldn’t help but notice the long stare Ophelia and Ravenna Del Sarto exchanged. Thanks to his majordomo, who handled the situation with great aplomb—as to be expected given the obscene salary he paid the man, in less than half an hour, the house was emptied, and he was left alone with the enforcer from hell. Even Pietro cowardly retired, saying to call him if anything was needed, knowing Alexander would never ask anything of him once he had retired to his apartment.
    Ravenna, who had spent the time waiting for the people to leave by taking a series of phone calls, had left her briefcase on a coffee table in the foyer, then walked back to the living room. Meanwhile, Alexander had spotted the two bottles of Brunello and opened one to let it air. He welcomed her back with a crystal goblet of the red.
    The enforcer raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, just an arched line framing the darkest black eyes he had ever seen, and refused his offer with a disdainful look. He brought the glass to his lips instead and drank the nectar, hoping to find the necessary strength not to kick the woman out of his house.
    She seemed oblivious of his presence and began searching the living room by moving furniture, raising Persian rugs, displacing frames both on tables and walls. She was meticulous in her approach, combing the room by following a grid. Once or twice, she commandeered his help when a couch proved to be heavier than it looked or an armoire wouldn’t budge. Despite the seriousness of the situation and the implications of it, he almost hoped she would find what she was looking for right away to get rid of her.
    “The first floor is clean.”
    She left the message on her recorder. He noticed how she turned the watch she wore on