She leaned across the table and whispered, “Since we’re sleeping together, Luca, you should probably refer to me by my given name.”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“My mother chose it. She loved the story of the young woman from Jerusalem who wiped the face of Jesus as he carried his cross to Golgotha.”
“You were raised in a religious home?”
She nodded, then asked, “What about you?”
“I was a model Catholic.”
“And now?”
“I’m Catholic the way most Italians are Catholic.”
“Not so much?”
“I still believe,” said Rossetti. “At least I think I do. But I lost my faith in the Church a long time ago.”
“You’re not alone.”
Several heads turned as Cardinal Bertoli, resplendent in his crimson-trimmed cassock, glided across the dining room at the side of the maître d’. As he approached the alcove, Nico Ambrosi rose to greet him. They exchanged a businesslike handshake and sat down. Cardinal Bertoli placed histelefoninoon the tablecloth, then gestured toward the third place setting.
“I could be mistaken,” said Veronica, “but it looks to me as though His Eminence is wondering the same thing we are.”
“Are you suggesting that Nico Ambrosi would invite someone to dinner without the cardinal’s knowledge?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past Nico.”
A waiter appeared and Rossetti requested two glasses of prosecco.
“Are you from Naples?” asked Veronica.
“Is it that obvious?”
She smiled but said nothing.
“I grew up in a neighborhood controlled by the Camorra. When I was a boy, I saw bodies in the streets.”
“Is that why you became a police officer?”
“I suppose so. My mother wept for a week when I told her.”
“Why?”
“She wanted me to become a priest. Can you imagine me in a Roman collar and a clerical suit?”
“I can, actually.” Just then the door of the restaurant opened, and a man with an angular face and hair combed closely to his scalp came in from the street. “Guest number three?”
“Definitely.”
“Who is he?”
“A banker from Lugano who just lost a half billion dollars belonging to the Camorra.”
“Franco Tedeschi?”
Rossetti nodded, then watched as Tedeschi made his way unescorted to the table in the alcove. He shook the hands of Nico Ambrosi and Cardinal Bertoli and lowered himself into the remaining chair.
