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Vittoria
I hear a woman’s voice outside my door, followed by a man’s who I assume is the soldier. They speak Italian, and a moment later, the lock turns, and the door opens. I sit in the center of the bed and watch.
After Amadeo left, I got dressed and resumed my place. I haven’t looked at the book he left here for me. Seeing it from the corner of my eye gives me a little anxiety, to be honest. What’s in there? What will I learn that I don’t want to know? It could be lies, his lies. But he seemed so confident. So sure.
The woman nods to me. She’s the one from downstairs who came running after the other one. The soldier gives me a bored look from his place at the door.
I track her as she carries a tray of delicious-smelling food to the table, pushes the leather-bound tome aside, and sets the tray down. She glances at me briefly, then hurries back out, and the door is closed and locked again.
My stomach growls as I get to my feet. I pad barefoot over the carpeted floor to the table. On the tray are a fork and spoon, no knife, a tall glass of water, a small salad, garlic bread, and, under a lid to keep the food warm, a huge bowl of spaghetti covered in what smells like the most delicious tomato sauce I’ve ever had. Or it could be that I haven’t eaten in I don’t even know how long. Since yesterday maybe. I don’t remember having breakfast this morning. I pull the chair out, pick up the fork, and twirl the pasta. It’s piping hot and richly flavored. I eat fast, devouring the spaghetti, followed by the salad and the grilled garlic bread.
When I’m done, I sit back with a hand over my belly and look out the window at the beautiful night. It’s quiet in here. I bet it’s quiet out there, too. We live in a high-rise in the city back in New York, and although it’s quiet within our penthouse, it’s a different sort of silence. And the sky over the city doesn’t boast even an eighth of the stars that sparkle like diamonds in black velvet here. Looking at the horizon, I can’t tell where the ocean ends and the sky begins, but I see the lights of distant ships and yachts, just a few in the vast sea. It is beautiful, even if a little lonely.
I put the lid back over the dish and rub my eyes. I’m tired and want to sleep, but I need to shower first. Need to scrub the day off me. I knew today wouldn’t be happy. I knew I was taking a risk coming to Naples. And maybe it was naïve of me, but I never expected what happened to happen. I had guards to protect me, and what could anyone want with me? My brother, I could understand. But I have nothing to do with that side of the family’s affairs. Had my father gotten into trouble with this family? Done something so horrible they did what they did?
Dandelions in a field blur my vision.
Getting to my feet, I push all those thoughts aside. I need to focus on what’s important right now and that is getting out of here and back to Emma. And until I can get back, I need to find a way to make contact with her to make sure she’s okay, make sure she knows I am too. Because one thing I know for sure is that Lucien won’t be looking after her. At least she’ll have Hyacinth, the nanny, with her. She was going to spend the nights with her while I was gone, but now who knows how long I’ll be or if I’ll return at all. What then?
But I can’t think about that. I need to focus all my energy on getting out of here.
I walk into the bathroom, lock the door, and strip off my clothes to shower. No shampoo or conditioner can be found, so I use the bar of soap to scrub my hair and my body, then comb my fingers through my hair as best as I can. A glance in the mirror proves it’s not very effective. My hair is a thick mass of tangled blond waves around my head and rebellious in the best of times which this is far from. Since I have no other clothes, I put my underthings and dress back on because I’m not sleeping naked. I return to the bedroom, my gaze landing on that leather-bound book once more before I climb into bed. I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the hard, uncomfortable pillow.
The following morning and afternoon pass uneventfully with the same woman bringing me food and taking the old tray for both breakfast and lunch. The soldier at the door remains watching, and she doesn’t speak a word to me. Hardly looks at me. I don’t know what I expect, but Amadeo doesn’t return all day. I don’t even know what I want. I’m afraid of him returning, but I also need him to. He’s my way out. I know that.
I wonder if he was on the helicopter I saw take off late in the afternoon. I guess it’s the fastest way to get places from such a remote location.
So when I hear men’s voices outside my door several hours after dinner that night, I sit up at attention and watch as the door opens. But it’s not Amadeo who enters. It’s the other one. His brother, I’m pretty sure. They look so similar, but this one has strange amber eyes, whereas Amadeo’s are that steely gray. He’s also younger. He shares that same darkness I sense from Amadeo, but this one has something reckless about him, too. Something as dangerous as Amadeo but wilder. Unharnessed and unpredictable.
The man enters and closes the door. He looks around the room, his gaze halting momentarily on that damn book before he faces me.
“Get any reading done yet?” he asks.
“What?” I ask, even though I know.
He gestures to the book. “Your family history. Did you read it yet?” He makes a point of annunciating as if I’m slow.
I don’t answer him, but I do hold his gaze. I already decided I’m not stripping naked for anyone again. If they want that, they’re going to have to make me. Then it will be out in the open the kind of men they are.
“Get up,” he says.
“No.”
“Get. Up.”
This time he picks up the desk chair, pulls it out a little, and slams it back onto the floor so violently it makes me flinch.
“Why? You want to get a look too? Like your brother?”
He grins, touching his thumb to the corner of his mouth the way men do when they’re appraising you. He takes a predatory step toward the bed, and I find myself leaning away.
“I thought my brother would have made it clear that you take orders. You don’t question them.”
“Are you the baby brother?” I ask, watching his eyes narrow infinitesimally. Button pushed.
“Are you hard of hearing? I said get up.”
“So are you following big brother’s orders, then?” I ask, standing now because I need to be ready. I know I’m treading on thin ice. “Because from my understanding, Amadeo is the man in charge. He didn’t mention anything about my having to take orders from his baby brother.”
