“Bite your tongue, woman,” Marco said from the front.
Felicity grinned and glanced up at the rearview mirror. She and Marco shared a heated look before she refocused on me. “But ours isn’t too bad.”
Marco huffed. “This year’s harvest is going to be better than ever.”
I couldn’t quite get a read on Felicity. Sela had hinted Marco had a wife. Felicity and Marco were definitely a couple—I picked up on that easily enough. But she didn’t wear a wedding ring, and neither did he. From what little I’d seen of her before climbing in the car, I hadn’t spotted any leopard-print tattoos that marked her as a kitten, but that could have been because it was dark. Regardless, I knew not to trust any of my first impressions with anyone in this country.
The villa was a massive structure made of stone with multiple levels and numerous cobbled rooflines jutting out in different directions. A tall archway framed an enormous gate-style door with iron scrollwork and ornate hinges, and a center tower rose above the main door high above the rest of the house.
It wasn’t quite as big as the Salvatici castle, but I could easily see that Marco’s family had money. “Does everyone in in this House live in a castle?” I muttered more to myself than anyone else.
“That’s not a castle,” Felicity said. “Castles are cold and stuffy. Technically, it’s a farmhouse.”
“Yeah, no castles for us,” Marco interjected from the front, shooting a teasing look Luc’s direction. “We’re peasants, unlike the royalty beside me.”
Luc huffed.
“This property’s been in Marco’s family for years,” Felicity said. “All the buildings you see here used to be part of a hamlet. That tall portion of the farmhouse was the watchtower. Marco remodeled the farmhouse but kept the tower just for fun.”
“Not for fun,” Marco said. “For security purposes. It’s awesome for spying on my neighbors.”
Felicity rolled her eyes and looked back at me. “Regardless, we like it.”
I was perfectly fine not staying in a castle. In fact, if I never saw another medieval castle again, the happier I’d be. The last time I’d been in one...
I shuddered at the memory and told myself not to go there.
Instead of stopping in front of the farmhouse as I expected, Marco bypassed the circular drive and followed the road to the right, down a slight hill, until we reached a smaller stone villa with a wide porch and steep cobbled roof. The exterior lights of the villa were lit up, shimmering off what I thought might be a lake opposite the house.
Marco killed the engine and popped the driver door. “Thought you two might be more comfortable in the guest villa.” He winked at Luc as he climbed out. “Being newlyweds and all.”
My gaze snapped to Luc in the front unbuckling his seat belt. Yes, we were technically newlyweds, though you’d never know by looking at us.
Nerves balled in my stomach all over again, reminding me I wasn’t nearly as exhausted as I thought. I didn’t catch Luc’s muttered response as he climbed out of the passenger seat, but I recognized his Italian, and I didn’t miss the definite bite in his tone that told me he wasn’t at all thrilled with Marco’s announcement.
My back tightened as I exited the vehicle and closed my door. I’d just traveled halfway around the world for the man. He could muster up a little gratitude even if he was grouchy.
Marco already had our bags before I could reach the trunk, so I followed him up the porch steps while Felicity moved inside the villa and began flipping on lights.
It was bigger than it looked from the outside. The walls were uneven rough rocks, the ceiling arched bricks. Two steps led down to the sunken living room decked out in plush, vibrant furnishings in golds and browns and pale blues. Brick columns separated the cozy living space from the dining room, and beyond, I could see a modern kitchen with granite counters. Wide French doors opened to a patio and dark view, and to my right I watched as Felicity pushed another door open, flipping on the light as she said, “This is the bedroom. There’s a full bath off the master. Through that door behind Natalie is a laundry room.”
Marco dropped our bags on the floor in the living room. “We stocked the fridge with general supplies, but if you both need or want something specific, let us know tomorrow.”
“Thanks,” Luc answered, running a hand through his hair. He stood across the room from me, almost as far as he could get in the small space, and he still hadn’t looked at me. Not once since we’d left Tahiti.
I wanted to be aggravated by that, but I didn’t have the energy. Now that we were safe, my exhaustion was catching up with me again, and I knew his was as well. At some point tomorrow, I’d confront him about what was going on with us, but right now, all I wanted to do was sleep.
“It’s really nice,” I said, hoping I could hurry this along so I could get that sleep. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”
“No thanks needed.” Felicity moved up to Marco’s side and slid her arm around his waist. As he looped his arm over her shoulder, she said, “You’re welcome to come up to the house for breakfast, but we totally understand if you want to skip and sleep in. Our home is your home, so feel free to explore anywhere on the property.”
“Just don’t make plans to leave the grounds unaccompanied,” Marco said, steering Felicity toward the door. “Safer for the time being.” Over his shoulder, he called, “G’night you two.”
“Night,” Luc answered as they moved outside and the door clicked closed behind them.
I chewed on my lip in the silence, not particularly liking Marco’s last comment. I understood the meaning, but he’d made it sound as if I was a prisoner. Again. Not surrounded by water any longer, but by walls.
Luc crossed the room and grasped both of our bags. “You should unpack and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
It had been. Longer than I’d anticipated.
Sighing, I followed him into the bedroom. The walls in here were also made of uneven stones and bricks, but the ceiling was peaked with dark wood beams, and the floor was slate, covered by a large central rug. An ornately carved headboard framed the king-sized bed decked out in a plush gold comforter and bountiful pillows. Across the space, a tangerine club chair and ottoman sat near an ancient stone fireplace. The nightstands and two dressers were antique dark woods, and the tall, rectangular crosshatched windows on both sides of the fireplace were framed with expensive draperies that matched the bedding. On the far side of the room, shutter-like wooden doors opened to the master bath, and wide arched windows I guessed looked out at an incredible country view.
The entire cottage was old-world and romantic, and I loved every part of it. I just hated the reason I was in it.
Luc set my bag on top of the horizontal dresser with an arching mirror, then moved to the tallboy dresser across the room and began unpacking his things. “Might as well make yourself comfortable,” he mumbled. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be here.”
That didn’t ease my frayed nerves any, but I was too tired to say so. Just as I was grabbing a pair of pj’s and my toothbrush from my bag, Luc kicked the bottom drawer of his dresser closed and turned for the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“In the other room. I have a few notes I need to make before I see my father tomorrow, and I don’t want to keep you up.”
My stomach tightened. “You’re seeing him tomorrow?”
“Yeah. That’s why we’re here, remember? So I can try to save Dante’s fucking life. And yours too.” He stepped into the living room and reached for the door handle at his back, still careful not to meet my gaze. “Get some sleep.”
The door closed with a snap that echoed like cannon fire through the small room. And, too numb to respond, I sank to the tangerine club chair and stared at the aged wooden door.
I didn’t need to be saved. I needed to be appreciated for the woman I was. I needed to be loved, the way he’d said he loved me in the South Pacific. The way I’d felt he lo
ved me that last night in Tuscany before my world had imploded.
Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I looked down at the thick diamond band around my finger. Tears that weren’t just rooted in exhaustion but in frustration and pain as well.
How had things gotten so messed up? How had we wound up here—not just in Italy, but with stone walls towering between us? I didn’t know how to get through to him. I didn’t know if I even could anymore. And the longer I stared at my ring and the shapes created by the diamonds, the more I wondered if maybe it was time to stop trying.
Because through blurry vision, I realized those weren’t flower shapes created by the pear and round diamonds. They were butterflies.
Butterflies, I remembered with an uneasy feeling, which were a symbol of Monarch mind-control techniques.
The same mind-control techniques every beta kitten endured in her training.
Chapter Fourteen
Luc
I felt like shit. No, worse than shit. I felt like dry, stale, week-old horse shit.
Unable to lie still any longer, I shoved the throw from my legs and pushed off the couch where I’d crashed sometime around four a.m. I’d dozed maybe an hour, but I hadn’t been able to fall asleep thanks to the stress churning inside me over the day that lay ahead.
Growing grouchier by the second, I shuffled into the kitchen in my wrinkled clothes and filled the coffee pot with fresh water. I wasn’t going to be able to relax until Natalie was out of this damn country. Yeah, I was confident she was safe here on Marco’s property, but I wasn’t at all confident she’d stay put behind the estate’s walls. Natalie James—correction, Natalie Salvatici—had an unpredictable independent streak that made me crazy, and just contemplating all the wild ways she might defy me while we were here...
I flipped the water off and drew a deep breath as I stood over the sink, fighting back an insatiable arousal I had no right to feel and a blistering heat that crossed the fucking wires in my brain. Last night, it had taken every ounce of willpower I possessed not to toss her on that king-sized bed and ravish her. If she’d made any snarky comment when I’d left the room, I’m not sure I’d have been able to resist the urge. But she’d kept her tempting mouth closed. And she hadn’t come looking for me when I didn’t later join her in the one bedroom in this damn tiny cottage. As far as I knew, she didn’t even wonder where I’d gone.
I told myself not to be disappointed by that fact as I shifted my bare feet against the cold tile floor and moved to the coffeemaker. It was better for both of us if we didn’t get distracted by anything emotional or sexual the next few days. Safer too. The last time I’d let myself be distracted by her...
My throat closed as I snapped the lid shut on the coffee machine and hit the start button. Yeah, the last time I’d been distracted by that kind of shit, I’d nearly gotten Natalie killed.
For the next twenty minutes, I focused on making breakfast, a mundane task that took my mind off Natalie and my miserable family. Marco and Fee had stocked the kitchen with everything we’d need for a month—fresh meats from the local butcher, vegetables, and fruits I was sure they’d grown on the property, and pastries and breads I knew their family cook Lucilla had prepared.
Shuffling sounded at my back just as I was finishing the first omelet, followed by a gasp and muttered, “Wow.”
My blood ran hot at the sound of Natalie’s soft voice, but I willed myself to stay in control. As I should have stayed in control from the first moment I’d met her.
“Pretty sure that wow is for the view and not my cooking. Sit down. Breakfast is ready.”
She pulled out the chair with a squeak of the legs against the slate floor. As I shifted the omelet to her plate and added some of the breakfast potatoes I’d made earlier, I caught her wide-eyed stare from the corner of my vision as she looked out at the crystal blue lake framed by towering trees and rolling green hills. “I thought I saw water last night, but I had no idea. It’s gorgeous. Where are we again? This doesn’t look like the mountainous region where your parents live.”
“It’s not.” I set the plate and utensils in front of her. “We’re about forty-five minutes south of them, outside Siena.”
“Oh.”
I couldn’t quite tell if that “oh” was “oh good,” or “oh bad,” and I didn’t feel like asking. Moving to the counter, I poured a fresh cup of coffee, stirred in cream and sugar, and brought it to the table for her.
She glanced from the steaming cup up to my face and said, “Thanks.” And for a split second, I saw what I’d missed earlier because I hadn’t been able to look fully at her.
Her eyes were bloodshot and slightly puffy around the outer edges. And dark crescents marred the soft skin beneath her lower lashes, telling me she hadn’t gotten much more sleep than me.
Guilt stabbed right through the center of my chest. Guilt not just for bringing her here, but because I was the reason for her lack of sleep and red-rimmed eyes.
I averted my gaze and quickly moved back to the stove, focusing on making another omelet so I wouldn’t do or say anything to make the situation worse. With a sigh, she picked up her fork and began eating. Silence filled the kitchen, punctuated only by the sound of the frying pan moving against the stovetop or her utensil scraping her plate.
Tension crackled between us as I flipped off the stove, slid my food to a second plate, and took it and my nearly cold coffee to the other side of the table. A tension I knew she felt too by the way she stiffened and watched me with wary eyes.
I focused on eating, hoping the food would help ease the knot of stress in my gut. By the time I finished, that knot wasn’t any better, especially when I noticed Natalie had barely touched her food.
Shit. I needed more caffeine for this. Pushing up from the table, I glanced at her cup. “You want more coffee?”
She looked down at the half-empty mug and shrugged. “I guess.”
I guess. Man, we were well on our way to convincing everyone we were madly in love.
I took both mugs to the counter and refilled them, the whole time pondering what the hell I could say to break the tension. Everything churning in my head sounded stupid as fuck. Moving back to the table, I set her mug in front of her, sat back in my chair, and wrapped both hands around my cup, deciding enough was enough.
“I know last night Marco told you that you could go anywhere on the property. You can, but it’s important that you don’t leave the estate for any rea—”
“I know. Sela explained it to me. I’m safe behind the walls. Once I leave, I’m fair game.”
My stomach twisted as I glanced at her, staring down at her plate with what I could only describe as a miserable expression.
I fucking hated this. “I’m going to make it right with my father and my House. You won’t be stuck here for long. Once they recognize our marriage, they’ll leave you alone.”
“And if they don’t?”
I wasn’t even going to consider that as a possibility. I lifted the steaming mug to my lips, desperate for the hot brew to incinerate my sudden fear. “They will.”
Her gaze lifted from her coffee to me, and even though I wasn’t looking full at her, I didn’t miss the doubt in her eyes. “And then what? What happens after you convince them we’re married?”
Steps. I could get through this whole shitfest if I focused on the steps that would get us to safety.
“Then,” I said, lowering my coffee once more, “I try to help Dante.”
She didn’t respond, just narrowed her eyes on me in an unreadable way, but I knew the questions were coming. I also knew I’d answer every single one if it would keep her safe.
She eased back in her chair and toyed with the handle of her mug. “So who is Marco to your family?”
“A distant relative.”
“How distant?”
“Several marriages long removed. His family is loyal to our House.”
“You obviously trust him.”
“I do.”
&
nbsp; “Then why couldn’t he help Dante?”
“Because he’s not a Knight.” When she only stared at me, I sighed and tried to explain. “Marco and I grew up together. His parents were killed in a car accident when he was a kid. He was raised by his uncle, who is a Knight in the Salvatici House. The Knights are like...” I tried to think of something she would understand. This would be a hell of a lot easier if they had royalty in the US. “They’re like advisers. There are thirteen. All are appointed to the Council of Thirteen by the head of the House—the Granducato di Toscana, or in English, the Grand Duke of Tuscany, who happens to be my father. Marco’s not a Knight, so he has no ruling privileges when it comes to how members, especially Salvatici family members, are disciplined.”
“But his uncle does?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you ask him to help Dante?”
I lifted my cup to my lips again. “Because Marco’s uncle is as depraved as my brother Giovanni. I don’t trust him any more than I trust the Grande Cavaliere.”
“Sela mentioned this Grande-whatever. He’s some kind of priest?”
I huffed. “No. He’s not religious at all.” He was evil. And I didn’t want Natalie anywhere near him. “The current Grande Cavaliere isn’t someone you ever want to meet face to face. You saw him once before. In that ritual in the woods. He was the one in red.”
Her entire body stiffened in her chair, and without even asking, I knew what she was remembering. The way the Grande Cavaliere had bent that naked beta kitten over the stone altar and fucked her right there in front of everyone.
I looked down at my coffee, my stomach twisting at just the reminder she’d seen that depraved ritual. But I didn’t want to scare her, so I gentled my voice when I said, “There’s no reason you’ll have to meet him personally. Marco would never invite him on the property, not because of you, but because of Fee. Legally, he can’t enter without that invitation.”
She nodded and looked down at her coffee. Unable to stand the silence, I dropped my hand and looked at her. She was studying her cup as if it held the secrets to the universe, but I could tell she had more questions.