Page 1 of Daddies of the Underworld

1

NINA

The taxi climbed the cliffside road in a series of switchbacks that left my stomach at the bottom of the hill.

Every time the driver leaned into another curve, the Tyrrhenian Sea dropped away on one side like the world simply ended there. I’d forgotten how it felt to ride along this road.

Two years had passed since the last time I worked at the villa.

Two year ago, I’d been broke and exhausted, certain I’d never see this coast again.

Hell, I was still broke and exhausted, but I felt well enough that I planned on remembering my time here instead of forgetting as soon as I ended the job like last time.

A place this beautiful should be remembered. I held onto that as the curves almost became familiar.

My body must remember, even if my mind did not.

Lemon groves dotted the terraced hillsides. Bougainvillea spilled over stone walls in almost impossible to believe shades of pink.

I pressed my forehead to the window and tried not to blink.

A warm sensation slid over my skin, one that had nothing to do with the temperature and everything to do with the sprawling appearance of Villa Belladonna rising like a majestic masterpiece from the landscape.

It was all soft yellow/brown stone with sweeping archways and architecture certain to make angels weep at its beauty.

My throat went dry looking at it.

I was supposed to work there.

Me.

It was good the uniforms were included in the job deal, because I couldn’t afford a single flower from the fields, much less the kind of material they used for clothing.

I smoothed a hand over the fine cotton skirt and matching shirt with its tiny white dots. How sad was it that this uniform was the fanciest thing I owned?

Not now, Nina. My silent plea helped lift me from the melancholy.

Two men in dark suits stood at the entrance where an iron gate cut us off from the villa.

They stood with their hands clasped behind their backs in a way that was probably meant to look relaxed.

Both wore earpieces, and one leaned down to speak with the driver. He scanned a list on a tablet he pulled from the guardhouse, then waved us through with a flat expression.

Beyond the gate, the drive curved past a fountain shaped like a sea nymph.

She poured water from an endless shell, and a spark of memory returned. I’d walked past the fountain at least once a week.

The villa grew closer, and I blinked up at the pale stone with its dark green shutters.

Three stories high and extravagant in the way of old wealth. A line of cars sat in the courtyard, the kind that appeared in magazines and were polished to a shine that glinted off the asphalt.

What would it be like to ride in one of them?

I shook my head at the question and climbed out. “Thank you.”

The driver grunted and helped haul my bag from the trunk. A summer job here meant staying on the grounds.

Which meant I had a place to live for the summer.