The foyer is ostentatiously and tastelessly decorated with so many gilded knickknacks that I have to squint from the reflecting light on every surface.The sitting room is not better and looks like a room on an old Italian movie set with an abundance of drapes, carpeted floors and uncomfortable wooden furniture under a heavy chandelier.
I instantly feel oppressed.
They lead me to a gilded sofa that looks as though it was made for torture rather than comfort.I lower myself into it, the plush fabric doing nothing to ease the stiffness in my spine.I keep my gaze neutral, trying to ignore the overwhelming extravagance around me.All I care about now is waiting for her.My flower.The woman I came here for.The woman who is going to be mine.
“Would you like something to drink?”Daria offers.
“I don’t want to impose.”And remain here longer than necessary.
See?I can act civilized.
“Nonsense, you are always welcome in our home, Mr.Santaluccia.What can we get you?”
“I have this great bottle of Irish single malt.You have to try it,” Francesco offers.
I nod only to get it over with.
Lily’s sister comes in through a door.I get up when she is near, take her hand and give it a light brush with my lips.“Ms.Bianchi.”
She inclines her head eyes downcast.Weird, is she a bit pale?
I frown.I hope that she is not sick with the flu in the vicinity of my Lily.I will have to convince my sweet flower to move in with me tonight, traditions be damned.
“Chiara, dear, can you pour Mr.Santaluccia and your father a glass of our best whiskey?”
“Yes, Mother.”The girl obediently goes to a bar cabinet and prepares the requested drinks.
I can hardly suppress my impatience.How long will she make me wait?Is this her way to punish me for the restaurant incident?
I take the offered glass but it does nothing to ease the tension coiling in my chest.I school my features into an impassive mask, but my patience is wearing thin.
Turning toward Francesco, I let my frustration bleed through.“Where is my fiancée?”I ask, my voice steady but hard, the kind of tone that brooks no nonsense.
Francesco, the smug bastard, has the gall to laugh and make some comment about how young people these days are so impatient.His laugh is like nails on a chalkboard, and the polite restraint I’m forcing myself to maintain is beginning to crack.I don’t need to remind myself how much I hate him, how much I’ve always hated him.Right now, it takes everything in me not to pull my gun and make him shut up, but I manage to keep my composure.Just barely.
“Chiara, dear, will you go up to fetch your sister?”
I swear, if this girl gets any paler, she will collapse right here.An uneasy feeling settles deep in my gut.My instincts are never wrong, and right now they are screaming at me that there’s something off here.
Chiara disappears through a door, her footsteps echoing sharply on the marble as she ascends the stairs.I strain my ears, waiting for the sound of voices, for her voice to call out my name.Heavy silence fills the room but I am not in the mood for small talk.They can feel it, too.The tension is hanging thick and I know they sense that I’m not here for pleasantries.I am waiting, the seconds stretching on endlessly.
Finally I hear footsteps returning and I rise, straightening my jacket, preparing to take in the most beautiful of visions like a thirsty man seeing his first glass of cool water after a life sentence in the desert.
But only the sister comes in.I frown.
“Well?”Daria asks.“Where is your sister?”
Chiara looks up with fear in her eyes and something dark coils in my chest.“She…she is not there,” she whispers.
Her mother and father gasp, but it is my deadly calm voice that makes her jump out of her skin.“Where is Lily?”
She looks stricken and shakes her head, eyes downcast.
I rush past her through the door she came in and see a flight of stairs.I take them up two by two.At the top, I find myself in a hallway with several doors on either side so I have to ask over my shoulder, “Her room?”Francesco, who has been on my heels, motions for the second door to the left and I open it so violently I am surprised it doesn’t stay in my hand.
I enter and take in the small and very empty room.Then I spot another door and yank it open.The adjoining bathroom is empty, too.My vision clouds over with a red haze.
When I go back to the bedroom, the three of them are watching me from the threshold with wary eyes.“Want to explain?”I grit out, hanging on by a bare thread.
