His Mafia Prince
Chapter 279: It’s A Key

Chapter 279: It’s A Key

{TYLER}

Sasha is more relaxed than I’ve seen him in a very long time. It’s as if concluding his business with Magda allowed him to regain mental space to devote to fun instead of worry.

That’s what I think, anyway, and when I tell him my theory, he laughs and tells me that maybe I’m right, but that what it means to him is that he has more time to devote to solving the mystery of the pendant.

"It would be a good title for a book," I muse as we unpack in the hotel room. We’ve returned to a budget option in Florence, and although it’s nowhere near as bad as the Roman hotel, I already miss our palazzo in Venice.

I pull out the pendant from the hidden pocket at the bottom of my suitcase and hold it up to look at it once more. "The Mystery of the Pendant: Tyler and Sasha Investigate."

"I prefer genres with a little more erotic content."

I grin across at him. "Oh, there’ll be plenty of that."

But we spend the morning doing touristy things, and then in the afternoon we have an appointment with a Dr. Bonaventura, the lead art historian and restorer at a small, private company that works for the most prominent galleries in Italy and Europe.

Sasha seems genuinely pleased that he can now add Patron of the Arts to the list of his achievements.

I just hope they can actually help us.

On our arrival, we’re shown into the boardroom, where we have to sit through a presentation on the work of the company, and which is performed twice over—every sentence stated first in Italian, and again in English, for my benefit, I assume. Sasha is almost literally on the edge of his seat, hanging on every word, asking questions that sound intelligent and appropriate.

I have to struggle not to yawn too obviously, smothering each wave of tiredness behind a hand. At least the coffee is good, and it helps keep me awake.

"Your donation to our work has come at a most fortunate time," Dr. Bonaventura says at last, once Sasha has finally exhausted his questions, and the rest of the senior company staff have vacated the boardroom. We’re making our way toward the door, having been promised a tour of the facilities. "You cannot imagine how grateful we are. It will allow us to—"

"I’m so glad," I say, seizing the initiative. "Thrilled. We’re super into art. And since we’re here, I wondered if you could take a look at something for us. As a favor?"

Dr. Bonaventura beams. "But of course! Please, send any artifact straight to our laboratories and we will be delighted to—"

"Actually, I have it right here." I take his hand and shove the pendant into it. "There. What can you tell me about it?"

He peers down at it, glasses flashing as he turns it this way and that in his hands. He frowns, begins to say something, and then hesitates. He gives me a faltering smile. "Is this some joke, perhaps?"

"No joke," I tell him.

"But sir, you understand, this is not..." He gives an awkward, nervous giggle. "This is not an artifact that needs...special consideration. It is very precious to you, no doubt," he adds hastily.

"It’s not the pendant itself," I try to explain. "We think—we think there might be something in it. In the pendant?" My voice goes high and thin. "But, like, I don’t want to destroy it to find out. If I’m wrong, I mean. You must have something that could look at the different layers under the top layer, like they do with paintings? Or if not, you could check the density, or—or something?"

"But what makes you think—" Dr. Bonaventura begins, bewildered.

"Please, doctor," Sasha interrupts, in that no-nonsense tone that even I listen to. "We understand that it’s probably a fool’s errand. But will you indulge our curiosity?"

The man’s eyes blink rapidly behind his glasses as he thinks it over.

"As patrons of your work," I add, because I can’t stand waiting any longer.

"Of course," he says at once. "Forgive me, I did not mean to suggest I would not—of course, of course." He gestures us out the door, then follows us out. "We can go now."

Sasha follows him towards the staircase, but I hang back. "Now?" I ask.

The art historian, his foot already on the first step down, looks back at me with owlish surprise. "If you are in a hurry to leave, sir, I would be happy to send you a report, instead. But it won’t take long."

"It’s just..." I start, but then I look at Sasha. "Okay. Let’s do it."

It’s just that I feel real fuckin’ nervous now that we’re about to find out if this whole trip has been a waste of time, or something equally horrifying.

Sasha holds out his hand, and I take it. He gives it a quick squeeze, searching my face until I give a slight nod. It’s okay.

He turns back to Dr. Bonaventura. "We’d love to see the work of the laboratory," he says. "We didn’t realize it would be permitted."

The professor, leading us down the stairs, laughs. "Oh, we have no secrets here," he says, breathing hard as we make our way down three flights. "None of our work is restricted. Most people find it quite boring. People outside our sphere have little interest in art restoration—unless it’s a Michelangelo or the Mona Lisa, people simply do not care." He puffs as we reach the bottom landing, slowing his pace as he walks, and we slow down behind him.

The hallway is quite narrow, but door after door comes off of it.

Dr. Bonaventura stops abruptly in front of one door, opens it, and feels around for the lights inside. "Here we are," he says, gesturing us to follow him. "Come in, come in."

It’s a sizable room, reminiscent of a hospital or medical research lab or something, with various machines and workstations that include test tubes, Bunsen burners and chemicals. Dr. Bonaventura is headed straight for one particular machine.

"What does this do?" Sasha asks curiously, looking it over.

"X-rays," the art historian replies, back to his jovial self. "A little crude, but effective. It will show us at once if there is anything deep inside your pendant. If not, I can use other methods to examine the layers of glazing..." He devolves into technical talk, so I stop listening.

Dr. Bonaventura turns on the machine, muttering about letting it warm up, and pulls across a chair to sit in front of the viewing screen on the other side. I turn to Sasha, and we have one of our silent conversations. I’m apprehensive, and he reassuringly cups my cheek and smiles at me. Then he takes my hand in his, warm and comforting.

"Ah," Dr. Bonaventura says in surprise, still staring at the viewscreen. My fingers contract hard around Sasha’s.

"Yes, there is something in here," the art historian continues, sounding curious now.

Sasha clears his throat. "May we see?"

"Please, please—" Dr. Bonaventura motions us over, and we crowd around the screen. "Here we are," he says, pointing at the screen at the outline of something within the cross. It’s not as clear an x-ray as I’ve seen even at airplane security checks, but it’s clear enough, and I suck in a breath.

"Do you see?" Dr. Bonaventura asks. He peers even closer, leaning into the screen. "It looks like—I think it might be—"

"It’s a key," I say.