Chapter 28
SAbrINA
I’d learned the hard way that there was no point in arguing further.
Once again, Sebastian Diamanti had gotten his way.
I leaned my chin on my hand and stared out the car window, taking in my first glimpses of Rome.
Rome seemed alive—every street and every corner strained under the weight of centuries.
The cobblestones shimmered faintly under the glow of streetlamps, as if the city itself still carried the whispers of a thousand confessions and ancient betrayals.
The car slid past the Trevi Fountain, its marble figures frozen mid-motion, their carved expressions illuminated by golden light. The fountain less like a place of innocent wishes and more like a shrine to despair.
As Sebastian’s motorcade snaked through the narrow streets, the city closed in, its ancient walls pressing against me, reminding me that this was Rome, a city that had conquered nations and consumed empires.
The ruins of the Forum flashed by in a blur of muted gray and ghostly white. Even in the darkening light, I could feel its power, a graveyard of ambition and betrayal.
I couldn’t help but think of the stories my mother had told me, warnings laced with bitterness.
Rome is a city of gods and monsters, she had said.
A city that would devour anyone who dared underestimate it.
A city she’d fled and sworn I would never see.
And yet, here I was.
Against every promise I had made to her, I was here, trapped in this maze of power and shadows.
Rome wasn’t just a city.
It was a predator, watching and waiting.
And I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face it.
Sebastian broke the silence. “My home is on the right.”
The palazzo loomed ahead, its silhouette cutting sharply against the twilight sky.
My mouth opened as I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, trying to take in as much as I could.
It looked more like a medieval fortress than a home.
It took up an entire block, rising five imposing stories high. And not five charming stories of balconies and arched windows—five stories of solid stone with iron bars on the lower windows. In the shifting shadows, I could have sworn I saw men with assault rifles patrolling the roof.
The car stopped, and two men dressed in black suits stepped out of the arched doorway to open my car door. Massive iron doors guarded the entrance to the palazzo, each with a three-dimensional lion’s head knocker the size of a basketball.
Sebastian placed his hand at my lower back, and I instinctively huddled closer to him.
Inside, a flight of white marble steps rose before us, wide enough to accommodate twenty people standing side by side. On each step stood a uniformed staff member, silently bowing their heads in greeting to Sebastian.
At the top of the stairs, he led me into an elegant hall.
He looked down at me with a smile. “This is the sala dei mappamondi, my favorite of all the halls.”
I stared in wonder at the stunning frescoes, intricate marble floor, ornate ceiling, and stained glass windows. I’d stepped back in time to the Renaissance. Two four-foot-tall globes dominated the center of the room, one terrestrial, the other celestial.
Then the meaning of what Sebastian had said caught my attention. “Your favorite hall? How many are there?”
“Twelve…on this floor.”
He guided me through the hall into another and yet another, each filled with Italian masterpieces of art, sculpture, and tapestries. They depicted everything from the Madonna and Child to David and Bathsheba to the Ark of the Covenant.
Sebastian gestured to a fresco depicting the Garden of Eden. “Most of the art is original to the palazzo’s first owner, a cardinal from the sixteenth century.”
I rubbed my upper arms, hugging myself to ward off a chill. “That explains the fun Borgia-vibe.”
He gestured to a stained glass window. “You can’t see it in the dark, but there is a large courtyard filled with citrus and olive trees, as well as several pleasant fountains and sculptures, especially in the nymph grotto.”
What in the everlasting fuck is a nymph grotto?
I forced a smile. “Well, I’m certainly glad you finally mentioned the nymph grotto, or I would have demanded you take me straight back to the DoubleTree.”
That comment earned me the ghost of a smile. So he was human after all…well almost.
After passing a dining room large enough to seat at least fifty people at its long, polished oak table, I asked, “Does the rest of your family live here with you?”
“I live alone in the main house,” he replied. “There is an addition to the primary building that has five separate apartments where my brother and sister occasionally stay.”
Clasping my hands together to hide my nervousness, I asked, “Is that where I’ll be staying?”
“No. You will have a bedroom in the main building. Here with me.”
I twisted the rose-gold rings on my fingers. “But surely if—”
“It is not up for discussion, Sabrina.” His words came tight and strained as the hand at his side flexed open, then closed into a fist.
At this point, I would have settled for a sofa in the lobby of a hotel over staying in this ancient fortress all alone with Sebastian.
“I will give you a fuller tour another time. For now, I think it best to show you to your room so you can rest.”
He took me up another, only slightly smaller, stone staircase to the main floor and down a tapestry-lined corridor.
By now, I was hopelessly lost. I’d tried to count the turns, the doors, anything—but everything blurred together. The air colder somehow, the silence heavier. My pulse kicked up.
No one knew I was in Italy, let alone here with Sebastian Diamanti.
I could disappear behind these harsh walls, and no one would ever hear from me again.
I was overreacting.
Hadn’t I just had my photograph taken with Sebastian by a small horde of paparazzi?
That alone would be evidence of my arrival in Italy. Of course, he had said he controlled the press in this country. It would probably be a small matter to have those photos buried.
Then there were the rumors about his mafia connections…
This was ridiculous.
I was acting like Catherine Morland from Northanger Abbey, imagining this beautiful palazzo as a gothic fortress steeped in sinister shadows, its owner guilty of dark, nefarious deeds. Still, just in case, the moment I was alone, I would text some friends where I was.
And then there was my mother. I still hadn’t decided if I was going to tell her I was in Italy or perhaps lie and claim I was still in Paris. What would be the harm in letting her believe that, at least for the next month?
There didn’t seem much point in enduring her tantrums and lectures if I ended up not taking the job at the House of Diamanti after the trial period.
Sebastian opened a heavy wooden door and stepped aside for me to enter first.
The bedroom was a vision of ethereal elegance, its walls painted a soft, dreamy blue that seemed to shimmer faintly in the glow of the silver candelabras.
An intricately carved canopy bed stood at the center, draped in pale green and silver silks that pooled onto the polished marble floor in shimmering folds.
A Renaissance fresco of cherubs and swirling clouds, its delicate hues echoing the room's serene palette, adorned the ceiling.
Every detail, from the handwoven tapestries to the faint floral scent lingering in the air, was like stepping into a masterpiece designed for a queen—or a captive.
I shivered.
Sebastian remarked, “My apologies. These old palazzi can get damp in the winter.”
He crossed to the emerald-green marble fireplace with its carved images of two angels holding the mantel up with the very tips of their wings. He turned a brass key at its base, and flames engulfed the logs.
Letting him believe I was chilled, I moved to stand in front of the fire. “It’s a very nice room. Thank you.”
Knowing it was ill-advised, I still pushed.
“I’ll search tomorrow on Airbnb for a temporary rental.”
He stared at me—studied me—for several moments.
The silence stretched.
I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep from screaming from the tension.
When he finally spoke, his voice sounded deceptively low. “I thought I’d warned you about angering me.”
I pivoted with the intent to escape the room.
Sebastian was faster.
He blocked my path to the door with his body, placing both hands on the fireplace mantel, caging me in.
The heat from the flames warmed the backs of my legs.
“I’m not trying to anger you, Sebastian. But we did agree that this would be a strictly—”
“A strictly professional relationship.” He cut me off through clenched teeth. “I’m aware.”
I stared at the knot of his tie. “You can’t expect me to stay here, alone with you, for the entire month.”
He leaned in close, his gaze focused on my lips. “That is precisely what I expect.”
Deliberately pretending to misunderstand, I shook my head. “That is very kind of you, but I can’t accept. It would be too uncomfortable.”
He lifted his hand and rubbed his thumb over my lower lip. “I can think of numerous ways to make you more…comfortable.”
I blinked, afraid to move, let alone form a reply. The heat of the fire burned my skin, and yet I still didn't shift away. This man’s web had caught me, a helpless bug.
I swallowed past the dry fear in my throat. “You promised, Sebastian.”
“You make a lot of demands for a…subordinate.”
Every word dripped with poisonous double meaning.
“If you don’t want to abide by our agreement, I can always return to Paris.”
I was both terrified and fascinated by what his response would be.
He pushed his thumb past my lips. “A word of advice, Sabrina—don’t give me ultimatums. You won’t like the consequences.”
With that, he stormed out of the room.
There was an ominous click after the door slammed.
I rushed over to it.
I hovered my hand over the doorknob.
If I turned it…would it be locked?