The Rules in Rome Read Online Free PDF Page B

civilian—in love with him, of all people—he still didn’t want her.
    In his high-stakes world, Bastien had to be ruthless. If Marcello or Roberto or Giovanni were ever arrested and there was no realistic chance of helping them, Bastien wouldn’t hesitate to act the part of a Nazi soldier in their execution. And he knew Marcello would do the same—both would maintain their cover or their freedom at any cost, even if it meant turning on a friend who could no longer be saved.
    Bastien didn’t want to take a woman into that world. There were female partisans, of course, but that was different. Their country had been taken over by Fascists—first by Mussolini, then by Hitler. Bastien suspected Miss Begni didn’t have a clue what she was volunteering for or what sacrifices she’d be forced to make as she lived a lie. Why is she so insistent on coming? He tried to shrug off the other thing that was bothering him: the way Miss Begni reminded him of Julie.
    Your first chance in four months to sleep without worrying about the Gestapo, and you’re worrying about women instead? Bastien sighed and walked to the bed. When he pulled back the covers, he realized there was only one thin blanket. Logs were piled in the fireplace and matches lay on the mantel, but a roaring fire wouldn’t help him sleep.
    He quietly opened his bedroom door. The other men had been sitting in the main room when Bastien excused himself a few hours ago, but the room was empty now. Ambrose and Vaughn-Harris had the two larger bedrooms on the main level, and Bastien had been assigned the middle of the three rooms in the loft. He assumed Miss Begni was in the far room, with the guards sharing the room at the top of the stairs. Perhaps the guards had spare blankets.
    Bastien knocked softly on the door, expecting one of the off-duty men to answer. He waited for perhaps half a minute, and then the door opened, revealing Miss Begni wrapped in a robe, with her black hair falling loose across her shoulders.
    He took a step back. “I’m sorry. I thought you were in another room.”
    “If you’re looking for Captain Vaughn-Harris, his room is down there.” She waved her hand toward the stairs.
    “Why would I be looking for him?”
    She folded her arms and shrugged. “I thought you might want to finish your argument in private. It was fairly obvious the two of you wanted to take a few swings at each other this afternoon. What happened between you two?”
    Bastien ignored her question. “I think it would show poor sportsmanship on my part if I were to slug an inebriated man half a head shorter than me. I was actually planning to ask the guards if they had any spare blankets. Sorry to disturb you, Miss Begni.”
    “I have extra blankets.” She left the door open and walked back into her room. She pulled several blankets from a wooden chest pushed beneath the window and brought them to him.
    “Thank you for the blankets, Miss Begni.”
    “Most people call me Gracie.”
    “Gracie, then.”
    She seemed to be waiting for something. “What’s your given name, Captain Ley?” she finally asked.
    “In Italy, I’ll be Hauptmann Dietrich. I suppose we’ll soon pretend we’re on good enough terms that you’ll usually call me Adalard.”
    “But what’s your real name?”
    Bastien tucked the blankets under his arm. “If you don’t know my real name, you won’t accidentally use it in the field.”
    She scowled at him and placed a hand on her hip.
    Bastien remembered Ambrose’s instructions. As long as Gracie was willing to go, he had to take her. But what if he could convince her to withdraw? “You’ve never been in the field?”
    “No,” she said. “But I’ve had all the training.”
    “Training is different. How will your conscience react to lying all the time?”
    “That’s part of being a spy. I’m prepared for it.”
    “Oh? And what if you have to kill someone?”
    She hesitated. “I’ve read enough about what the Nazis are doing to