Blood Eternal. Toni Kelly

It might keep the angst at bay for some time.”

      He doubted it would help, however, Broderick’s intentions remained well placed. “Maybe you are right.”

      “Of course I’m right.”

      “Either way, if it gets too difficult, I will call you before I do anything to her.”

      “Fine.”

      Beyond the immense doors of Santa Maria di Montesanto, the night’s noise died down. As Luke located a pew, he could almost hear Mrs. Thompson say, the Lord giveth and He taketh away. If you have time to make it to gaming hells, you have time to make it to Mass.

      He smiled at the memory. Despite a fondness for his family’s housekeeper, he’d always thought her words the mere poppycock of an old woman. Now... His world was different and the Church had become a vestige of hope. More than two hundred years in Rome, and Catholicism had grown on him. He would not call himself devout, but his interest remained somewhat sturdy, considering his damned status.

      After saying a short prayer, he genuflected, made the Sign of the Cross and gathered his black scarf before heading to the back of the church. He smiled at a woman who lit candles, careful not to expose too much fang.

      Her mouth curved easily. “Buona sera, signore.”

      “Buona sera.” He wished her good night and strode past.

      “Buona sera, signore. Vada con Dio.” An elderly lady with gray streaks through her hair greeted him near the front door. A regular, she smelled of incense and dust.

      Luke nodded in salutation and hastened into the brusque night. He could have said the damned did not go with God except she seemed a nice lady. Far be it from him to ruin her evening. Besides, there was a certain irony to the fact he concerned himself with religion as an immortal when as a human he’d labeled it a dull, useless waste of time.

      He’d seen enough throughout his lifetime to respect the existence of a greater power. Yet he would never understand why this greater power would let a young couple wander through the streets hungry.

      Pushing past his thoughts, he picked up the pace. He had an appointment to make. Icy wind whipped through the air and sliced apart a light mist over the near vacant piazza. Late September, and a winter frost tiptoed across Rome.

       2

       Desperation is the raw material of drastic change. Only those who can leave behind everything they have ever believed in can hope to escape.

       —William S. Burroughs

      Savannah Michaels nibbled the fingernails of one hand while she crinkled a piece of paper with the other. Ninety thousand dollars of debt and now she was thousands of miles away from home doing only God knew what. Sure, it had been for necessary expenses. She hadn’t planned the accident and definitely wouldn’t have chosen to complete near two years of physical therapy afterward, but this knowledge didn’t soothe the butterflies in her stomach. A knot tightened her throat. Now was not the time for cold feet. She massaged her throat and glanced back down at the internet classified ad she’d printed off.

       COMPANION WANTED

       Traveling companion, male or female, between the ages of twenty-five to forty-five. Requires valid passport and the ability to travel throughout Italy for four weeks straight. All expenses covered. Will pay handsomely. Please inquire at [email protected]

      Too good to be true? Savannah released a shuddering breath and sipped her cappuccino. Steam hit her nose, warming it against the air’s chill. Across a huge expanse of ocean, meeting a complete stranger. She had to be crazy.

      “Your tartufo.” A waiter leaned forward and placed a chocolate lover’s dream before her. “Anything else, miss?” His gaze questioned beneath a broad brow.

      Rubbing the button holding her pants closed, she smiled. “No, thank you. Um, grazie.”

      He nodded and turned, attending another table.

      Hmm. She planned to eat in Italy and here she sat, content after a sumptuous feast. Of course bread dipped in olive oil, a cappuccino and a heaping plate of capellini al pomodoro slowed her gusto a bit. Aspiring chef or not, a person could only eat so much at one time. Good thing she’d spend four weeks here, although there might not be a plane big enough to carry her back.

      She settled further down in her seat, spooned a cold layer of chocolate and cream onto her tongue and let an explosion of cocoa work its magic. The accordion whines of “Quando, Quando, Quando” drifted past her and brought bliss. She’d imagined Italy like this. These tastes and sounds were the reasons her friends oohed and aahed when she’d mentioned this opportunity. Of course they’d also tsk-tsked at the idea of her spending four weeks with a complete stranger. Still, after everything she’d suffered through, what did she have to lose? Bad relationships, no funds, death. She’d pretty much been there and done all of them. Somehow, she stayed afloat, but the exhaustion of life made the thought of sinking deep alluring.

      She released a long breath, pushing away any daunting thoughts of her prospective employer. For now, Piazza Navona remained her personal paradise.

      Pink and purple painted the evening sky. Groups of tourists hustled into cafes for a warm meal. Passersby stopped to watch musicians and mimes perform for their day’s wages. Strange how no matter where one went, it always boiled down to the good old all in a day’s work. Though not opposed to labor, bartending at Murphy’s Irish Pub wouldn’t earn enough to pay her debts and establish her restaurant. Not in the near future, anyhow. She pulled out another folded piece of paper, confirmation she moved one step closer to her dreams.

       Dearest Savannah,

       I am pleased you have decided to accept my offer and I look forward to our meeting in Rome... Once you arrive, you may take a taxi to Piazza Navona—I will reimburse you this expense. After sunset, I will present myself to you outside cafe Tre Scallini.

       Cordially,

       Luke

      Present myself? Who wrote present or signed their emails with cordially? Technically this was a business deal so the polite tone made sense but this guy came off as an old timer, at least on paper. What would she do with an old guy? Hmm, what did a companion do exactly? She bit her lip. Details, people usually gathered before accepting a job.

      Twisting her napkin around her fingers, she shifted in her chair. Evening grew nippy after sunset. With any luck, he wouldn’t run late.

      “Savannah Michaels?”

      She spun toward the man who’d spoken in that deep voice and stilled. Coffee brown eyes, intense brow, sensual lips and definitely off limits in her life right now.

      “Yes?” She’d come here to work not admire scenery—no matter how tempting. Wait a minute. She took a breath. This particularly handsome bit of scenery knew her name. He couldn’t be him. This man had a strange accent. Not Italian, though familiar. British? Savannah hadn’t asked where he was from. “You’re not, um, hold on a sec.” Her mind blanked and she exhaled loudly, fumbling with the papers in her hand. Several sheets dropped to the ground. “Um, I’m sorry, one moment.” Served her right for having expectations of a shriveled old man. He was a man and that’s where any similarity to what she’d envisioned ended.

      “If your bumbling around is an attempt to ask me whether I am Luke Evans, owner of the companion ad, yes I am.” He lifted a thick brow, his face creasing with disapproval.

      So much for first impressions. Seemed she was stuck with Mr. Tall, Gorgeous and Grumpy for four weeks. Suck it up, Michaels, you need this.

      She smiled. “Great, I’m Savannah Michaels.” She lifted a hand, silently berating herself for giving