"What is this? It looks like a statement of some kind."
"Yup."
She read quickly. “Lord Jameson suffered an accident that day?”
“Yes. At the regatta, two boats crashed. He was severely injured. He had to have substantial surgery to repair his face. Also, his blood type is O positive.”
She blinked. "Oh my God, you're not saying..."
I shrugged. "I don't know what I'm saying. I know, it's farfetched. This was thirty years ago. Thirty-two exactly. We can't really do that kind of science fiction face transplant sort of situation that we see in the movies. But, if people have similar bone structure already, and then one, say, has an accident… It's easy to explain their new features as being a result of that accident."
"But that would take extreme planning. That would mean that somebody else would have to be in on it with him."
I shrugged. "Maybe. It could mean anything. But we are going to find out."
"How?”
I chuckled and then hit the next tab to show her the tickets. "You're right, it's not much. But we're going to go digging. We're going to see if we can find that report on Henry Warlow. The private investigator I hired said it's there, but we'll have to go through the paper archives to find it. So how do you feel about going to Milan?"
Her eyes went wide. "Milan?"
I nodded. "Milan. The two of us, plus my detective doing the leg work will make it go a lot faster. Hopefully we can find something useful. There's a reason Jameson is keeping these files under lock and key. I want to know what it is. He kept the police report from that day, and he kept his medical reports from the following weeks, which is not that unusual I guess, but those things don’t belong in the vault with the family artwork of all places. They should be scanned in with his personal medical reports somewhere. Why keep it? Moreover, why hide it under such strict security measures?"
“So, the theory is that Lord Jameson is Henry Warlow."
"That's the working theory, and I think it could be real. I want to get proof. What do you say? Are you coming with me?"
"You forget that I work for Interpol. I just got my job back. I can't just up and go."
I grinned. "Well, it’s a good thing I've already got clearance from your boss." I pressed the tablet again, and there it was, the authorization signed by Amelia.
With a grin, she climbed back onto my lap. "You really did think of everything."
“I know you. You’re trying to tamp down your more impulsive side. But this directly relates to your investigation, so… work trip? To Milan?"
She gave me a look that I couldn’t quite read, all wide-eyed and full of wonder. "What am I going to do with you?"
Marry me, I thought. Holy shit. But I didn't say that. Instead, what I said was, "Oh trust me, I'm pretty sure I can think of something." And then I nuzzled her again, trying to hold back the words that almost came spilling out of my lips. Surely, that would terrify her. We needed more time before I laid that on her, and I'd give her all the time in the world if it meant I could have her forever.
* * *
Nyla
For me, Milan was the city. That city that I always promised myself I would spend more time in. That I would spend days exploring old castles and the architecture and sights and maybe not the food per se, but Milan.
I always fooled myself whenever I went there for work that I was going to take time and enjoy the city. Because Milan was a city for young people. Yes, of course, there was the history. but there was something so very punk rock about Milan.
The clubs and parties, the scenes and sights, and the museums and culture to soak up. But somehow, I’d never managed it.
Milan was just that city I came to for work and then left. Always swearing that one day, one day, I was coming back to have my way with her.
East ran his thumb over mine as he held my hand through customs. "What's that look on your face?"
"It's nothing. Just every time I’m here, I promise myself that this will be the time I get to explore. This will be the time that I really do museums and go to clubs and laugh, or whatever. But somehow, I never do.”
"Oh, well we have to fix that. I once spent a very drunken weekend here in Milan."
I rolled my eyes. "Of course, you did. You've literally been everywhere. Done everything."
He kept hold of my hand until we were just outside of the airport. Throngs of taxi drivers honked, trying to get their passengers in their cars. Beeping filled the air as they tried to flag us if we needed a ride.
Luckily, our ride, a blue Mercedes sedan, pulled up to the curb and a uniformed driver got out. I rolled my eyes at East. "You never do anything subtly, do you?"
East grinned. "Why would anyone choose to do subtle?"
"Careful now, you sound like Ben," I laughed.
He winced. “Mortal wound. I wanted to do Milan in style with you.”
And just like that, he warmed me from the inside out. "Careful now, you're campaigning for boyfriend of the year like this."
"I certainly fucking hope so. I have a lot of making up to do. I want to cement myself in your life before we get back. That way, you can't get rid of me."
I glanced over at him, expecting to see that he was kidding, but there was a firm set to his jaw. "East, I'm not going anywhere."
“I know. I'm going to make sure of it."
I wanted to laugh to alleviate the sudden tension in the car, but somehow, I knew he was serious. He was saying something important to hear. So, I nodded. "Well, I can't wait to see the city with you."
He leaned forward
