I let the dig pass without a response. I was determined not to cause trouble this early in my visit.
“Papà. You look well,” I added in English, making it clear to the whole family that was my preferred language for this visit.
I let him air-kiss my cheeks, but we didn’t embrace, and he showed no signs of affection, but I was used to that. I was the sinner. The disgrace. The disappointment because I’d never wanted this life. He took great joy in making sure I never forgot that.
Silence settled over us as I grappled for control over my bitter resentment. When Dante cleared his throat, I realized even Natalie and Ariana had fallen quiet.
I quickly looked toward Natalie, standing on the other side of my sister. “Everyone, this is my”—Shit. I did not want to introduce her as my girlfriend or friend. I didn’t want them to know anything about our relationship, because they’d twist it into something vile for their own purposes—“assistant. Natalie,” I said to her, “you already met my sister and my mother. This is my youngest brother, Dante, and my father, Antonio.”
“It’s nice to meet all of you.”
Natalie stepped forward and shook Dante’s hand. I forced myself not to bolt toward her as my brother’s assessing gaze slid over her curly hair and down her curves.
Luckily, my mother grasped her hands, pulling her away from Dante, and kissed her cheeks. “Welcome to our home. How was your trip?”
“Fine. A little long.”
“Then I’m sure you’re ready for some fun.”
I forced back the panic those words stirred inside me, and watched as my mother let go of Natalie with one hand and turned toward my father. “Antonio, say hello to Natalie.”
My father was a big man—as tall as me, but broader across the shoulders. At sixty, he was still in great shape, mostly from the hours he spent walking through the vineyard on the property, but he was every bit as intimidating as he had ever been. My stomach twisted tighter as my mother pushed Natalie in front of him.
Tension hung like thick smoke in the air as my father’s devious eyes skipped over Natalie’s face and body. After an excruciating silence that only made me want to scream, he finally said, “So this is the woman who’s monopolized my son’s time on his business trip. Welcome to Castello Salvatici, Ms. James.”
“T-thank you.” Natalie flushed as my father held her hand between both of his much larger ones. I couldn’t remember if I’d used Natalie’s last name when my mother had ambushed us yesterday, but I wasn’t at all surprised that my father knew it now. I drew in a quick breath that did nothing to alleviate my unease and forced myself to stand still. But all I wanted to do was rip Natalie’s hand away from his and never let the sonofabitch touch her again.
“Come.” My father finally released her and turned. Placing his big hand at the small of her back, he ushered her up the steps, never once looking my way. “Have you ever been in an Italian castle?”
“No, never,” Natalie answered.
“Well.” Pride and something that made the hair on my nape stand straight swelled in his voice. “Then you must have a tour.”
My adrenaline shot through the roof, and I jerked up the stairs after them. Just inside the grand foyer, my mother caught my arm, pulling me to a stop.
“Luciano, I need your help,” she said in Italian.
Panic surged inside me as I watched my father all but pushing Natalie farther into the house. Ariana must have seen the fear in my eyes, because she hustled after my father and Natalie and threw me a pointed look that said she’d stay with them.
I breathed a little easier as all three disappeared under an archway—but not much. My irritated gaze dropped to my mother. I knew what she was doing, and I didn’t like it. No doubt she’d already been ordered by my father to let him get Natalie off alone.
“What?” I snapped in English.
My mother’s pale eyes narrowed. “Watch your tone, young man. I’m still your mother.”
I sucked in another breath that did shit to cool me down. “Sorry. What do you need?”
My mother’s expression softened, and she linked arms with mine. “Come into the kitchen with me. Rosabel is anxious to see you.”
Rosabel was the family cook, and she’d worked for my parents since I was a boy. Reluctantly, I let my mother pull me down the two sunken steps, through the living room, and under a different archway that led to the kitchen.
To say Rosabel had been more of a mother to me as a kid than the woman currently on my arm was an understatement. She’d snuck me cookies and treats whenever my parents hadn’t been looking, and every time I’d been punished for not doing things the family way, she’d slipped playing cards and comic books into my personal prison to keep me entertained. I hadn’t seen her in years—the last time I’d been in Italy, I’d met up with my father in Rome, avoiding this hellish home—and I was looking forward to feeling her bountiful arms pull me in for a real hug.
But my anxiety over where my father was taking Natalie and what he was telling her was still sky-high, and my gaze kept skipping toward every doorway and arch we passed, waiting for them to reappear. We hadn’t even been here five fucking minutes and the bastard had already isolated her from me. I wanted to wring his miserable neck. I wanted to grab on tight to Natalie and never let go. Neither of those things was feasible now.
All I could do at this point was pray that Ariana stayed with them and didn’t let Natalie out of her sight.
* * *
I had zero appetite.
In honor of my visit, Rosabel had cooked a lavish feast that included multiple courses: the antipasti with meats and bruschetta drizzled with garlic and olive oil from the grove on the property, the primo consisting of a wild mushroom risotto, the secondo which included roast leg of lamb and locally grown grilled vegetables, the formaggi e frutta plate of Tuscan cheeses and fruits, and the dolce—my favorite—tiramisu and cappuccinos.
I watched Natalie, seated kitty-corner from me across the long table, during each course. She sampled the foods set in front of her, but I could tell her appetite was as small as mine. And the nervous looks she kept sending me didn’t help my anxiety any.
I hadn’t had a chance to talk to her privately since she’d returned with my sister and father from their little “tour.” She’d seemed okay when she’d joined the rest of us in the dining room, albeit nervous, and I couldn’t tell if my father had said or done something that had unsettled her or if she was just feeding off my stress. All I’d gotten out of Ariana before we’d been ushered to sit was that everything was fine.
Fine was not a word that calmed my racing pulse. If I didn’t get Natalie up in a locked bedroom soon, I was afraid I might have a massive coronary.
“Natalie,” my mother said from her end of the table where she sat to my right. “Do you not like your tiramisu?”
“Oh. Um.” Natalie set her spoon down on the linen tablecloth. Candlelight drifted over her smooth skin where she sat next to my father, as far from me as he could put her. I knew she’d been placed there on purpose so my father could talk quietly with her without my interference. Again, her worried gaze skipped to me before darting to my mother. “It’s wonderful. I think I just filled up on too much risotto and lamb.”
I knew that was a lie.
My mother smiled and scooped a dainty bite of dessert from her plate. Sconces were lit on the stucco walls around us, lending a warm, relaxed feeling to the room, but I was strung tight as a drum.
“I’m sure you’re not used to all these courses,” my mother said. “In America, I hear you eat quickly.”
“Yes, that’s true.” Natalie’s gaze darted back to mine before quickly moving away again. “We’re always in a hurry, I suppose.”
My father lifted his fourth glass of wine and leaned back in his chair at the head of the table near the massive stone fireplace, angling Natalie’s way until the hair on my nape tingled. “Always amazes me when I’m there. Americans do not understand that food is to
be savored, not rushed.”
“That’s because life moves faster in America than it does here,” Dante muttered to my left as he sipped his cappuccino.
Maricella sat between Dante and my father, but she hadn’t spoken since the meal began, and every time I looked her way, I noticed her eyes were downcast. Natalie hadn’t missed it either. Each time she glanced at Maricella, I saw discomfort in her blue eyes.
“Well, I think America sounds wonderful,” Ariana said across from me as she scooped up the last of her dessert. “Especially New York. Luc, how do you like the apartment on Fifth Avenue? Benito said it encompasses the entire thirty-fifth floor. I can’t wait to see it.”
My father’s hardened gaze shot right to Ariana, and in Italian, so Natalie couldn’t understand, he said, “You will not be going to New York.”
Ariana slumped back in her chair with a frown, but she didn’t look at my father. She stared at me with a see what I have to put up with? look on her face.
On this point, I agreed with my father. In Italy, Ariana was safe. She was protected by the family. On her own in New York, anything could happen to her.
I reached for my cappuccino but didn’t miss the way Natalie’s brow lifted as she glanced at me. I hadn’t told her I lived in a lavish apartment overlooking Central Park. I hated that apartment as much as I hated my job at Covet, mostly because my lecherous uncle and no-good cousin had lived there before me. But maybe…
Maybe if Natalie were in that apartment with me, it wouldn’t be such an awful place to live.
“It’s fine,” I said, trying not to think too far ahead just yet. First I had to get through the next few days. I also didn’t want to think about Benito and where the hell his depraved ass was at the moment. If I never saw the fucker again, it would be too soon.
Natalie yawned and quickly covered her mouth with her hand. When my father glanced at her, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m still not used to how late Italians dine.”
Thank God.
I saw my out and wasn’t about to ignore it. It was close to eleven o’clock, and this agonizing dinner had stretched almost four hours.
I quickly pushed back from the table and tossed my napkin beside my plate. “I’ll show you to a room.”
Natalie smiled and rose as well. “Thank you for dinner. It was wonderful.”
My father cast her a tight smile. “Tomorrow, you’ll tour the property and sample more of our wine.”
It wasn’t an invitation. It was an order, and the look in Natalie’s eyes told me she caught it loud and clear.
She nodded and laid her napkin on the table. “Thank you.”
My mother smiled up at her. “Sleep well, Natalie.”
Dante—the fuck—watched Natalie as if she were fresh meat as she rounded the table toward me, and it took every ounce of self-control I had not to backhand the dick right there in front of my parents.
“Good night, Natalie,” Ariana called.
I turned for the archway that led to the stairs, willing Natalie to follow. At my back, in Italian, my father called, “North wing, Luciano. And be back down here in ten minutes.”
Sonofabitch. The north wing was empty. The family slept in the south wing. My father was isolating her from me, and by calling me back, he was making the fact he planned to keep us apart even more clear. My anxiety kicked up all over again as I tried to remember which rooms in that wing had locks.
I didn’t speak as I led Natalie up the stairs and into the north wing of the villa, afraid what ears might be lurking and listening, but I felt her disquiet at my back. Her suitcase was already waiting for us at the top of the stairs, and I reached for it, fighting the urge to reach for her instead. My hand itched to close around hers, my body ached to feel her curves pressed up against me, but I didn’t do either in case we were being followed.
I chose the last suite on the right at the end of the corridor. Turning the knob, I pushed the door open and peeked inside.
The large room was unoccupied, as I expected. Windows looked out over a stone veranda that opened to the courtyard below in the U-shaped villa and the countryside beyond. Pulling her roller bag behind me, I checked the lock as I stepped inside and made room for Natalie. It worked, but I knew my father had a key for it somewhere.
Natalie stepped in after me and gasped. “Wow.” Her gaze shot to the four-poster bed with gauzy red fabric tied at each corner, then to the sitting area across the room with a couch and two plush chairs positioned in front of a dark fireplace. “Each room in this place is even more amazing than the last.”
I didn’t agree. The rooms in the north wing weren’t nearly as nice as the ones in the south wing, and every single one of them turned my stomach, but I didn’t tell her that.
I closed the door and hefted her suitcase to the bench at the end of the bed. “What did my father talk to you about on your tour?”
“Just the history of the castle.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
“And what did you tell him about us?”
“Nothing.”
My gaze held on hers. “Nothing?”
She shook her head. “You introduced me as your assistant. I didn’t think you wanted me to tell him anything about us.”
Still gripping the ends of her suitcase, I closed my eyes quickly and drew in a relieved breath. But I only had time for one because my fucking father was waiting for me downstairs, and if I didn’t return right away, his retribution would be swift.
“Lock the door after I go,” I said, turning back for the hall, “and slide the desk in front of it to be safe. Keep your windows locked as well.”
Natalie’s hand closed around my forearm, stopping me. “Hold on. Slide the desk in front of the door? Now you’ve got my attention. Are there vampires or monsters or something in this castle I should be worried about?”
My stomach pitched. I knew she was joking, but I could see no humor in our situation. “No vampires.”
Her eyes searched mine in the low light, growing more worried the longer she stared at me.
I knew I was being cryptic, and I hated that I was confusing her, but I was walking a very fine line between telling her just enough to keep her safe and not too much to make her run.
“What the hell is going on?” she whispered. “Why are you so on edge? Gio isn’t here. Luc, I know you don’t get along with your father, but your family seems nice enou—”
“You don’t know my family, Natalie. You don’t know what they’re capable of. Monsters come in many different forms, but, believe me, they’re real. They’re real, and they’re in this house. Which is why I need you to listen to me. Lock the doors and windows, slide the desk in front of the door, and don’t let anyone in here but me.”
Her face paled, and regret stabbed deep in my chest because I knew I was scaring her, but I needed her to be scared. She wasn’t getting it, and I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let anything happen to her.
At the same time, though, I didn’t want her to be terrified. At least not so much it caused her to act differently in front of my family. So I gentled my tone when I reached for her arms and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. “Look, just do as I say, okay? I’ll feel better knowing you’re safe.” I wanted to take her mouth. I wanted to wrap myself around her and never let go. Instead, I forced my fingers to release her. “I’ll come for you in the morning.”
“In the morning?” she said at my back as I turned for the door. “You mean you’re not staying with me tonight?”
“No. My mother is…old-fashioned.”
It wasn’t a lie. My mother was ultrareligious, probably because she hoped hours in the chapel on our property would balance out the sinful things going on around her. I didn’t know her reasons. I didn’t care. I’d never asked.
“Luc, wait.”
Her hand closed around mine just as I reached for the door. Heat seeped into my skin under her soft touch, and I craved the feel of her hands on every other inch of my bare sk
in, but I didn’t have time for that now. “What?”
Soft blue eyes met mine. Eyes I could get lost in forever if I let myself. Eyes that would get us both killed if I wasn’t careful. “You don’t need to worry about me so much.”
She thought I was worried about her? I nearly snorted. I wasn’t just worried. I was scared out of my fucking mind. But I couldn’t tell her that. All I could do was hope and pray she listened. “Then do as I said, and we’ll both be fine.”
I tugged my hand from her delicate fingertips and opened the door. Pulling it closed behind me, I stopped in the hallway and waited. My heart raced as seconds ticked by. The lock clicked, then a loud scraping sound echoed around me, telling me she’d listened and slid the heavy, old desk in front of the door.
The pressure in my chest eased—just enough so I could breathe.
Pushing my feet forward, I moved back down the corridor toward my father and whatever the hell he was summoning me for. Hopefully it was just to shoot the shit with him and Dante and not something else.
Not something I dreaded with every fiber of my being.
* * *
I should have stayed away from her, but she called out to me like a singing siren, drawing me to her. Even when I knew it was safer for both of us to be apart, I couldn’t stay away. My body needed her like it needed air to breathe. I needed her like a meth addict needs his next hit. Every rational thought and plan shattered in my mind, overwhelmed by one thought and purpose and desire.
Her.
I wasn’t stupid, though. I knew the dangers. So I waited.
Thankfully, my father hadn’t called me back down to discuss anything other than operations at Covet. After a brandy on the loggia with him and Dante, I’d said good night to my mother and sister and retreated to my room in the south wing. Then I’d lain on my bed and waited until I heard my parents and siblings retire for the night. I’d waited even longer until I was sure they were all asleep.
The villa was quiet and dark when I finally ventured out around two a.m. I wasn’t as nimble as I’d been as a teenager when I’d last snuck into the north wing, and twice I almost slipped on the trellis and dropped to my death. I could just envision my parents finding my broken body in the morning, knowing exactly what I’d been up to. The forbidden and the risk only heightened my hunger for Natalie.