“Did you know her well?” she asked, studying me. “You look about the same age. Friends perhaps?” That note of curiosity turned hungrier.
“Only by reputation,” I sighed. “My sire did some business with the DiRavellos many years ago. We’re visiting from Florence.”
“Ah,” she said, interest waning as she turned back to the painting. “Florence. Such a provincial Dynasty.”
Forgotten, I hid a smirk behind my glass.
Out of the corner of my eye, Giovanni held court near the base of the grand staircase, monk’s habit exchanged fora formal black robe that reminded me of Emilia’s sons. Among the rich and powerful, he was fully in his element—accepting condolences, murmuring humble thanks, shaking hands, offering his heavy gold signet ring to be kissed, as if he was already Don.
From the other side of the room, Marcello was propped up in a chair, lips pinched tight, white around the edges, as yet another penitent bent into a bow and pressed his lips to that glittering red stone on my uncle’s pinkie finger.
No, Marcello didn’t like this at all. His face was a sickly gray, his pallor more death than life. Veined, shaking hands grasped the table in front of him, not as a prop, but for actual support.
Gabriel said his father was ill, but this…
What the fuck was wrong with him?
Vampires faded away over centuries, not weeks. They were like the statues lining the roof of Basilica di San Marco, eroding slightly every year, but still watching over the square after six hundred years. To wither away so quickly wasn’t normal, and it was no wonder Gabriel looked so exhausted these days.
This was bad.
A cluster of young females circled nearby, whispering behind their hands, scrolling on their phones, eyes shooting across the room. I followed the direction of their gaze, my heart lurching inside my ribs when I spotted a familiar profile.
Luca.
My brother stood apart from the others, drink in hand, posture impeccable, watching the crowd with an inscrutable expression. His black hair was tied back, longer than I’d seen it before, his face thinner, which only made him look even more dangerously handsome. His dark suit was simplebut perfectly cut. Our crest was subtly embroidered on this lapel, and in his matching shirt and tie, he looked every inch vampire aristocracy. My chest tightened, and I took a step toward my brother, not able to help myself.
“Emilia, may I have a private word?”
Directly behind me, Gabriel’s rich scent hit me, and I froze in place, every inch of my body tightening at that commanding, masculine tone.At the fact I was somewhere I should definitely not be.
Gods, what if he recognizes me?
Emilia was heading in my direction, Gabriel approached from behind, and I was about to be caught in the middle. So much for keeping my head down.
I turned, heart stuttering as Gabriel bore down on me, purpose in his stride, not a hint of recognition in his eyes. Like my brother, he wore mourning black tonight, gold gleaming at his cuffs, his long hair loose around his face, his expression politely somber. His gaze slid over my altered features, then stopped, blue eyes flaring wider.
My instinct was to flee; Emilia, however, moved first.
Before I could fully register the move, her fingers curled lightly around my wrist, drawing me into the space beside her, nails digging in deep in warning.
“May I present Isabella Rossi?” she said smoothly, her red nails flicking once through the air as though willing me into existence. “Up from Florence. A long-lost cousin or some such’s daughter.”
Her smile didn’t change as she spoke, her gaze sliding to me for the briefest moment, expectant.
I followed her lead, offering a vacant smile to Gabriel.
“Let me offer my sincerest condolences to Giovanni,” Emilia added lightly, already dismissing me, and speaking only to Gabriel. “Then, we can talk.”
With that, she disappeared, her crimson gown like a splash of blood amongst the somber crowd, but her eyes caught mine on the way past, full of malicious glee.Oh, she liked this, didn’t she? Leaving us together. A test of sorts, and one I would not fail.
“How is Florence these days?” Gabriel asked politely, his attention anywhere but on me, a pinch of frustration to his lips as he watched Emilia approach my uncle.
“As well as can be expected. The weather is hot, too many tourists, the usual complaints.” He didn’t even bother looking at me, and that pissed me off. I stepped closer until there was a scant foot between us.
“This is a beautiful palazzo. Have you been here often?” I asked, drinking in the fact that Gabriel hadno idea who I was, and the anonymity gave me a certain, thrilling sense of… freedom.
“Too many times to count.” He finally looked at me, that frown growing deeper as I brazenly laid my hand on his chest. I’d barely even touched his shirt when his strong fingers wrapped around my wrist and lifted my hand free.
