Chapter 24
DAISY
Some people are such treasures that they make you want to bury them.
I have one nerve left. Just one. The way Giulio turns and walks away from me as we arrive in front of a tan-brick estate that looks like it’s come straight out of a New England fairy tale makes me feel like the fucker is dry-humping it like a horny dog.
Right now, he’s doing a fantastic impersonation of a headache, and no amount of Excedrin is going to make the bad mood he’s giving me go away.
“This way,” Alonzo says, steering me up the steps as Giulio stomps ahead and disappears into the massive mansion.
If Giulio thinks that I’m going to just let him dictate the rest of my life, he’s in for a surprise.
As Alonzo and I march up the stairs, I glance sideways at him.
“Is Dante here?” I ask. I should definitely talk to the guy; he’ll know what to do about Giulio.
He’ll also hopefully tell me the truth about how much danger Giulio is in, too.
“Yes, but he’s probably going to be meeting with Giulio and Don Luciani as well, so they won’t be available for a while.” We enter the house, and it’s like I’ve stepped backward in time by several decades. My head cranes back and up and up some more.
Holy hell, Giulio might have The Cheesecake Factory money, but the Lucianis have “fuck you” money.
The interior of the mansion is a mix of old-world and modern.
The chandelier that hangs over the foyer is all crystal and bronze.
The lightbulbs ensconced in it are that dull hue that mimics the old weak ones, but the dial on the wall tells me that they’re set that way purposefully and could be turned up to full light at any moment.
“The drawing room is this way.” There’s a drawing room.
Yet another sign of “fuck you” money. I feel a little numb as Alonzo practically takes me by the hand like a child through the hallways of the mansion and around the banister that leads up to the second floor.
We don’t stop until we reach a double-wide doorway with wooden doors that disappear into the walls, only their edges showing at the seam of the frame.
Inside, an olive-complexioned woman with black hair lounges in a large wingback chair, a book sitting shut in her lap and a phone in her hand. Alonzo announces our presence by calling her name.
“Bianca.”
The woman looks up and reveals the kind of face that I’m used to seeing in movies or on fashion runways.
Big, puffy lips, hooded, cinnamon-colored bedroom eyes, and a perfect nose that is neither too big nor too small for her features.
When she straightens and drops her legs down from the side of the chair where they’d been perched, I almost sigh with relief.
Glancing down at my own chest, I give them a mental pat.
At least there’s one thing I’ve got in spades.
“Who is this?” Bianca rises to her full height and…
yup, her face isn’t the only model-worthy part of her.
She’s got to be, like, six feet tall or close to it.
As she approaches, all lithe muscles and slow, smooth gait, I feel my earlier annoyance with Giulio wane, replaced by curiosity.
Now, this girl looks like the main character of a book.
I should take some notes about her style and class.
Dressed in a floor-length red dress with spaghetti straps and strappy gold sandals on her feet, I take a mental snapshot.
Can we say “dark romance” heroine? Because I can.
“I’m Daisy,” I say, jerking a hand out to her.
She looks down at it, confusion furrowing her brow for a second before she takes it. Her eyes, when they lift again, go back to Alonzo, and he answers her question. “She’s Giulio’s wife.”
Those red-brown eyes of hers widen, and she turns back to me.
Her handshake becomes firmer, and she smiles.
“Well, it’s good to finally meet you,” she says before releasing my hand.
“I’m Bianca, Giulio and Dante’s cousin. Sorry I couldn’t make it to your wedding, I was traveling with Uncle Stefano. ”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say.
“Giulio is meeting with Don Luciani and Dante; he asks that you look after her until they’re finished.” With that, Alonzo pushes me slightly toward her, further into the room.
Bianca smirks at Alonzo, her eyes moving from his face down to his chest. “I can look after you, too, if you want to stick around, Lonny,” she offers.
My brows practically shoot toward my hairline.
Oh, damn, she’s smooth. More notes scribbled in my mental notebook.
A take-charge FMC for sure. Gold Letter Publishing might go for it; after all, I would know—I’m exactly the kind of reader who’d dive headfirst into a story like this.
I switch my attention from Bianca to the normally easygoing Alonzo, who shuffles backward on his feet and dips his head. Is he… blushing?
“Erm. I should make sure that Giulio doesn’t need anything.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he’s gone, striding back up the hallway toward the front of the mansion.
Bianca snorts and returns to the chair she was in previously. Reaching into the side, she withdraws a pack of cigarettes and props her hip on the window ledge. “He’s so cute when he’s flustered,” she comments, amusement clear in her tone and the way her eyes wrinkle ever so slightly at the sides.
“Are the two of you…” I let the question trail off, but she gets the gist.
“Oh no.” She waves a hand and pulls a cigarette free from the pack. “We’ve never gone there; I just like to tease him. Smoke?” She holds the cig out.
I shake my head. “No thanks.” Drifting further into the room and feeling like I’m having another out-of-body experience—though this one is far gentler and less bloody than the last time I’d been body snatched—I take a seat on one of the lounges across from her chair.
Leaning back, Bianca undoes the latch and lets the window swing out a few inches before she sets her pack down and retrieves a lighter from her bra.
The flame comes to life, searing the end of her cigarette.
Putting the thing to her painted red lips, she inhales and blows out the window in a steady stream. Then she looks at me.
“Heard you killed someone.” She smiles my way.
Well, fuck. Did Giulio tell everyone in his family?
I crack my neck to the side and shrug. “Yup.” After all, what else am I supposed to say?
Bianca surprises me with a laugh. She slaps the window ledge with her free hand.
“No fucking shit.” She shakes her head, smiling.
“You’ve got balls, girl. Brass fucking balls.
Then again, I would’ve done the same.” She shoots me a knowing look.
“To live around men like Giulio, you’ve got to be a little crazy. ”
And just like that, I know she and I are going to be friends. Maybe not as good as Michelle and I, but friends, nonetheless. Crazy is as crazy loves and all that.
Another feeling of security clicks into place. Dante—the brother I’ve never had. This woman… perhaps the cousin I’ve never had, too?
Who would’ve guessed I’d have to marry a stranger and kill someone to find the family I always wanted? Weirder things have happened, I suppose.
I don’t know how long Bianca and I hang out in the drawing room, but at some point, a man stops by and hands over a tray of food for both of us.
We eat and continue to watch TV and chat as the sun sets.
I fall asleep sometime in the wee hours of the morning only to be woken up by low male voices near the hallway.
Grumbling from the interruption, I roll over on the lounge and glance toward the now mostly closed double doors.
Bianca stands talking to whoever is on the other side.
I close my eyes, tired and annoyed that Giulio hasn’t even bothered to come see me since he brought me here.
Where is he? What is he doing? Does he miss me?
Even half asleep, I feel like my thoughts continue to revolve around him.
I try to press them out of my mind and go back to sleep when I hear the distant sound of the sliding doors on their tracks.
Warm against the surprisingly comfortable lounge, I remain right where I am, sure it’s just Bianca coming back inside and shutting the door.
Then the feel of lips on my forehead jolts me from the foggy dreamscape I’d just been sinking into.
Instead of opening my eyes, though, irritation keeps them shut.
I know who it is, and I’m mad at him. Now he comes to see me?
When I’m mostly asleep and can’t demand answers from him?
Tears prick the backs of my closed eyelids.
I should sit up and give him a piece of my mind, but at the same time, I’m still so exhausted that I feel like even if I were to try to wake up and fight with him, it’d be a losing battle.
Maybe it’s better to just let things be and talk to him in the morning.
Giulio doesn’t say anything as he presses a kiss to my forehead, and then I feel fingers stroking over my hair.
He makes no promises and doesn’t try to wake me up as his touch trails away.
I almost do sit up then, just to demand he stroke my hair some more, but in the end, I listen to the dull, quiet creak of the wooden floorboards beneath the carpet as he leaves the room.
I never open my eyes. I fear that if I do, I’ll find my vision impeded by a curtain of unshed tears.
Giulio La Rosa is such a prick.