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I could never describe what being around Benny did to me in enough detail. The rush of excitement, the attention, the focus that I was the most important person in the world to him did wicked things to my body. I felt alive, buzzing with energy. His protection and the knowledge that he never stopped watching over me meant more than I could express.
Benny, my phantom, my scarred outlaw, and my demon of the night. I loved them all.
A fist pounded on my door. I startled, rushing to answer. Only mynonnoever knocked with such impatience.
He stood in the hall, not bothering to walk inside, as I caught his scowl of displeasure. “Where have you been?”
“Out with friends,” I lied. “I needed new shoes for my dress.”
He would never know if I wore the same heels with every dress I owned or if I had new ones every night at dinner.
“For the masquerade?”
“Sì, nonno.”
“Be ready tomorrow night.”
“I will.”
“If you hear from Porcia, notify me at once.”
I dipped my chin, showing my obedience and hiding the disgust I felt. My grandfather was a tyrant. Did he even care about me or Porcia? I doubt he cared about much at all, aside from his wealth and status.
When he left, I shut the door and locked it, tempted to open the passageway and flee. Instead, I packed two suitcases and placed them in the passageway. I had a feeling I would need to be ready and hoped Benny would come for me soon.
Chapter 7
On the night of themasquerade, I stood in my room, facing the mirror that led into the hidden passages beyond, wondering if Benny would attend the festivities. Every year, mynonnothrew an extravagant ball to usher in the holiday season and an end to the fall harvest. Although the last grapes had been picked in previous weeks, the work wasn’t completed. The delicate craft of winemaking involved multiple steps, including harvesting, crushing and pressing, fermentation, clarification, and then aging and bottling before sale.
Our vineyard harvested grapes between midnight and early morning, and I often heard the harvesters late into the night once they began. We chose those hours because the cooler nighttime temperatures were vital in order to concentrate and preserve the fresh fruit aromas and flavors while they also stabilizing sugar levels—an artform perfected through generations of experience.
Mynonnorewarded his employees for their hard work after the season ended by throwing a party where he provided food, games, entertainment, and bottled wines. Afterward, he would host an elaborate masquerade for friends and family.
This formal event mixed business with pleasure, something mynonnoexcelled at. He thrived in his element, rubbing shoulders with politicians, famous public figures, and the rich whose pockets he hoped to lighten. After many years of these gatherings, I knew how to conduct myself without being told. It didn’t lessen my resentment or the anger I felt toward my grandfather. His lies, secrets, and crimes filled me with disgust. If I didn’t have to attend, I wouldn’t, but I didn’t dare refuse him. Not yet.
There would come a time when he no longer controlled me and my life. I would enjoy severing the hand of control he used to push me into submission. With Benny, I would finally find freedom. Until then, I played the game.
