The last place in the world she wanted to be was Livia’s castle, but there was a party that night in honor of the Chinese delegation that Tenzin told her she needed to be present for. After all, she had been named a scribe of Penglai, so she gritted her teeth, took a quick drink from the clueless driver, and headed out of Rome.

As they pulled up to the castle, she could see the glittering lights in the olive trees and the bevy of guards that only seemed to grow with each passing week. Whatever Livia was planning, she was gathering more and more guards. Beatrice debated, but left her shuang gou in the back of the car, tucking a few daggers into her boots, and another in her waistband before she walked through the gates.

The grounds were glittering with immortals and humans dressed in festive red outfits in honor of the Eastern guests. Beatrice was wearing her uniform of black jeans and a T-shirt. She still enjoyed flouting Livia’s snobbish fashion sense. Plus, it was easier to hide knives in jeans and a T-shirt than a cocktail dress.

“Beatrice!” Donatella Conti called her name from across the lawn. Beatrice nodded and walked over. In the weeks since she and Emil had made their tentative alliance, Donatella had proven invaluable. Beatrice knew now that the seemingly frivolous manner of the immortal hid a very keen mind and a vicious loyalty to her husband and his interests. Donatella had cultivated Beatrice as her new pet in the Roman court, and most of Beatrice’s communications to Emil were channeled through her.

“What are you wearing, my friend? What are you doing to me? Jeans?”

“I’m just not into dresses, Donatella.” The Roman vampire leaned over and kissed her cheeks in greeting while Beatrice whispered, “The better to hide weapons, my dear.”

“Oh, Beatrice.” Donatella winked. “You just have to use your imagination.” Scanning the woman’s skin-tight designer gown, Beatrice had to really use her imagination to figure out where Donatella could be hiding anything.

“So, what’s the gossip tonight?”

“Oh, she’s saying she has some big announcement she wants to make.”

“The Chinese delegation still playing nice with her?”

“As far as she knows, yes.” Beatrice had learned through Tenzin that the small trade group, which was headed by Elder Lu’s son, may have been there for business reasons, but quietly, they were supporting Beatrice and Giovanni’s plan to destabilize Livia’s power base. The Roman aristocrat had finally pissed off enough of the wrong people.

“Cool. We need to keep her happy until we hear more from Gio and Carwyn.”

They strolled through the crowds arm in arm, whispering to each other. “Any news?”

Beatrice and Tenzin had told no one outside of their small circle where Giovanni and Carwyn were headed. And no one other than their closest allies really knew who they were looking for.

“We received some information from the factory in Bulgaria.”

“Oh?”

“Which is shut down, by the way.”

“Good to know.”

“There was one shipment, which our sources do say contained a successful sample of the product.”

“Coming to Rome?”

“Headed here, but hopefully it will be detained.”

“Excellent.”

“I’ll keep you informed, but in the meantime—”

“Ladies.”

Donatella and Beatrice both turned to look at the interruption.

The gall.

Lorenzo leaned casually against a stone pillar, watching them and holding two flutes of champagne. He held them both out. Donatella took one, but Beatrice only glared.

“Donatella, you are looking delicious this evening.”

“Oh, Lorenzo.” She let out a tinkling laugh. “You are too kind. And stupid. You are very, very stupid.”

The vampire only cocked a blond eyebrow. “Oh?”

Donatella quickly covered the venom in her voice with a layer of honey. “To not have noticed my friend, of course! My beauty is nothing to her bold style. I am learning from our young American friend. She is so fearless.”

When Lorenzo opened his mouth, Beatrice could see his fangs descended behind his full lips. “I’m well aware of Miss De Novo’s fearlessness. She is a rare treasure, indeed.”

“Your sire is a lucky man, Lorenzo.”

That was bold. The disappearance of Giovanni Vecchio was the giant, blood-red elephant at all of Livia’s parties. It seemed by mutual unspoken agreement that no one spoke of it. His name was not even mentioned except behind closed doors.

Or by his wife, of course.

She narrowed her eyes at the blond murderer who taunted her with his presence. “Oh, Lorenzo has always been jealous of Giovanni, haven’t you, blondie? Giovanni’s always had more class. More power. More… well, just more.” She let a smile cross her lips.

“Are you sure of that? After all, you’ve never really explored your options, have you?”

“My grandma told me I don’t need to taste piss to know I’m drinking wine.”

Lorenzo only offered her a sympathetic look. “How is your family, Beatrice? I was so sorry to hear about Stephen’s disappearance. Tragic.”

The rage burst forth. “You fucking bastard! You know—” She cut herself off when she felt Donatella’s arm restraining her.

“Come, my friend, let us find more pleasant company. I have a companion with me who would be to your liking, I think. His blood is very rich.”