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I would have preferred to be at the estate in person to judge Francine’s reaction to Bianca. She sounds…uncertain.
“Good. Any trouble?” I tap my fingertips against the wooden desktop, awaiting her response.
Why is my aunt uncertain? I think about how many times Bianca has popped into my mind since I left her last night.
Far more times than I want.
A scowl drops my brows. What is it about her that has such an effect on me? But then, perhaps it isn’t me. Perhaps it’s Bianca who has an unsettling effect on everyone she meets. Is that why my aunt sounds the way she does right now?
“There was no trouble, Gregorio. But she has an attitude. Not respectful toward you. And she does not seem to fully understand her situation. Are you certain she’s the right…” Francine trails off, as if realizing her error in questioning me.
“It is her.” My tone is cold to remind her that I would never make such a rookie mistake as to mis-identify the Carlotti heir. “And she wouldn’t understand. Not yet. It has not been properly explained to her. A fact I intend to rectify this evening over dinner. Ensure everything is ready for my arrival.”
I push the button to end the call, and then steeple my fingers as I consider how best to proceed.
Marriage to Bianca will be a business transaction, nothing more. And in business, I am known for my ruthless nature. That is what I need to focus on this evening.
Not the way her hair falls so softly down her back. Not the way her eyes switch between enticing innocence and passion-filled rage deep in their depths. Definitely not the light citrus scent that, even now, hours later, lingers in my nostrils.
I release a growl and turn to the liquor cabinet to pour myself a whiskey.
Focus.
Soon, I will possess the Carlotti princess, and the plan I have been working toward for more years than I care to remember will finally come to fruition.
7
“Revenge is sweet and not fattening.”
Alfred Hitchcock
Bianca
I spendthe rest of the day exploring the suite assigned to me and trying to figure out how to escape.
The space comprises several expensively decorated rooms, all with large, floor-to-ceiling windows leading onto a long balcony. I venture out onto the balcony in the fresh afternoon air, and discover Rio’s family estate backs onto river frontage, with views that would be breathtakingly beautiful were it not for the circumstances surrounding my arrival here.
There is a pathway that leads from the house down to a landing dock on the river. Presumably he has a boat—or several, for all I know—but there is nothing docked there at present.
I consider climbing over the railing and somehow shimmying down the wall, but realize the futility of that thought when I notice men with walkie-talkies in hand, obviously patrolling the grounds.
One of the men has a large dog on a lead, and he stops at one point and looks up toward me.
At first, I shrink back from his sunglasses-covered perusal, but then I control my nerves and move forward to grip the balcony railing and stare down at him.
I may be completely out of my depth, scared of being killed at any moment, and unsure how—or if—I will ever get out of this situation, but I’m damned if I’ll show that fear to any of these goons.
So, I raise my chin and glare at him, and after several seconds, he and the dog move on until they are out of sight among the trees.
When evening falls, Francine appears at the door of my suite. “Rio expects you to dress for dinner. Be ready at seven thirty, Bianca.”
After she leaves, I check the door, assuming it will be locked, but shocked to find it open. I step out into the hallway, my heart pounding as I remember what happened the last time I tried this at the club. Rio’s chest was so very hard and unforgiving.
I creep silently down the carpeted hallway to the set of stairs I used this morning. I’m halfway down, holding my breath, when a man steps seemingly out of nowhere and studies me from the base of the staircase.
His hands are clasped calmly in front of him, and there is no particular animosity in his expression, but the message is clear. That way is closed off to me, as well.
Tears well, and I swallow hard as I head back to my rooms, trying to keep my emotions in check. The tears tumble out anyway, scudding down my cheeks, and I rush into the bathroom and strip off, deciding to jump under a shower to hide my sobs from anyone who may be listening.
