Chapter 3
THREE
Violetta
Getting to my feet, I stretch out my arms and legs and then walk around the cramped room I woke up in. I should probably call it what it is, a cell.
There's no window except for the tiny glass panel in the heavy wooden door.
It's too small to see through properly. The walls are rough and the stone floor uncarpeted.
There's nothing in here but the cot I slept on last night.
Its mattress is too thin to provide a barrier against the hard metal frame beneath it.
If I hadn't been sedated, I doubt I'd have got a minute's sleep. Riccardo did me a favor, I guess.
There's a deeply unpleasant smell in the room that makes me think I'm in a basement. It's not a place that's used much. I haven't been around death often enough to know what it smells like, but the odor of decay hints at something horrific happening within these walls.
There’s a dark stain on the floor that could be blood. Perhaps I'm imagining it. I hope I am.
I feel groggy. It's worse than a hangover.
My mouth is dry and there's a sensation at the back of my head like someone is knocking on my skull.
The harsh light from the single bulb hanging in the middle of the room isn't helping matters, but I suppose I should be grateful not to have been left in complete darkness.
I pace across the room, which can't be more than eight feet across, trying to gather my thoughts. When Damiano or one of his lackeys appears, I want to have my wits about me.
As I turn, I notice there's a bottle of water by the bed. I pick it up and discover the seal hasn't been broken. Wary in case the bottle has been tampered with in some other way, I examine it closely. Thirst overrides my fear that the water has been drugged.
Opening the bottle, I gulp down more than half. I stop when a wave of nausea hits me. Not trusting that I won't throw up, I sit on the cot. I shuffle toward the wall until my back hits it, then pull my knees up to my chest so I can rest my head on them.
With the boning from the damned corset poking into me, it's hard to get comfortable.
A cold realization settles over me. Giorgio told Elena I was sick last night.
They won't question it if I don't appear for work for a few days.
Nobody else will miss me. Not immediately.
My mother and I aren't in regular contact these days and I only see my friends occasionally.
They won't be sending out a search party for me anytime soon.
This is how people in Damiano's world vanish.
One minute they're there and the next they're gone.
Helping that boy last night was the right thing to do, but is it worth the price I'll pay?
My dreams for the future feel more distant than ever.
I shouldn't have put college off for so long.
Waiting until I had enough money saved was an excuse.
I could have juggled studying and working. Millions of people do.
Perhaps a shallow grave is not in my immediate future. If I remain calm, I can convince Damiano of my innocence. Then, surely, he'll let me go. Won't he?
When a key turns in the lock, I straighten. The door swings open to reveal the man who holds my fate in his hands. He's wearing a different suit, navy this time, and his hair is slicked back. Clearly, Damiano had a better night than I did.
He looms in the doorway, blocking my only escape route. I wasn't going to risk running anyway. I know enough about my boss to suspect he'd enjoy chasing me down. The punishment he'd inflict might not be something I’d survive.
Damiano says nothing, instead letting his gaze trail over me. He's stripping me bare, exposing me in ways I can't resist. Eventually, the silence becomes too much.
"Where am I?" Speaking first has probably handed him more power, but I don't care.
"You're at my home, the Palazzo del Sangue Antico."
A shiver runs down my spine. Palace of Ancient Blood? "Did you name it?"
Damiano shakes his head. "No, but I couldn't resist buying it when I heard its name."
"Like your brother did with his vineyard," I muse. Casa di Lupo suits Lorenzo Volante perfectly.
"Indeed."
Silence falls again. Damiano is trying to put me on edge and it's working. I scan the dingy cell. "I don't like what you've done with the place." I'm pleased my voice doesn't shake.
He quirks an eyebrow, a veritable outpouring of emotion for this man. "You're going with insolence when you should be throwing yourself at my feet and begging for mercy?"
My cheeks heat as I recall how I dropped to my knees in his office last night. I refuse to allow such weakness again. A man like Damiano won't respect it.
"I'm not going to beg, so whatever you plan to do with me, get it over with."
"Oh, you will beg, believe me." His voice is terrifyingly calm. He steps closer and my entire body tenses. Damiano smirks as he notices. "But my plans can wait. For now, I want to talk about Adamo Gianotti."
"I already told you I don't know him." I stare him straight in the eye. "Last night was the first time I saw the boy."
"He's not a boy," Damiano says tightly. "He's a full-grown man and he's a threat to my family."
"You mean Signorina Costanza?"
She didn't seem to be afraid of him last night, but admittedly I wasn't close enough to tell.
"That's not your concern. Now, suppose I believe you didn't alert him to Giulia's presence at the club. It still doesn't explain why you would help some man you don't know to get away."
"Your men were hurting him."
Damiano's gaze bores into my defenses and I wrap my arms tighter around my knees. "If you don't know Gianotti, why do you care?"
"Because it's wrong to hurt people like that."
"Oh, Violetta, how na?ve you are."
"I'd rather be na?ve than …" My brain is too scrambled to come up with an argument that won't land me in deeper trouble.
"Are you judging me?" Damiano waits for my reaction, and I shake my head. "Because it seems to me you disapprove of my methods."
"It's not my place to judge you," I say quietly.
He stares at me, his expression unreadable. The man is so cold I'm in danger of getting freezer burn.
"You forgot that last night, but don't worry, Violetta, I'll make sure you remember your place from now on."
His words send a shudder of unease through me. What the hell does he mean by that? What is my place? I swallow hard as I absorb the threat.
"Look, Damiano." I get to my feet and tug at the corset, trying to make it cover more of me. "I made a mistake and I'm sorry."
He ignores my apology. "Did you tell anyone else about Giulia coming to the club?"
"No." I obeyed his instruction not to share details of who his guest would be. When Paolo asked me who I was setting up Damiano's table with champagne and flowers for, I said I had no idea.
"Perhaps you should look outside the club and consider who else knew she was coming. She was with friends. One of them might have mentioned it to someone. And she came with a security team. Are you sure none of them leaked the information?"
"Those possibilities are being investigated."
"So, what am I supposed to do while you play detective? Do I just sit in this dungeon and rot?"
"It's hardly a dungeon."
"Well, it's not the fucking Ritz either, is it?" I have no idea where I summoned the nerve to lash out at him like that.
"Don't curse." A scowl briefly darkens his face before his inscrutable expression settles once more. "I wouldn't dream of allowing such an exquisite creature as you to languish in my basement."
He reaches out and curves his hand around my cheek. His palm is warm, a contrast to his chilly demeanor.
As he caresses me with his thumb, my body reacts independently of my brain, and I lean into him before I realize what I'm doing and pull away. Heat rushes to my cheeks as Damiano allows me to step back.
"I have a wedding to attend. Someone will bring you food and later you'll be moved to more appropriate accommodations."
"You're not letting me go?" I hate the note of desperation in my voice.
"We will discuss that when I return. Behave while I'm gone. If you give my staff trouble, you will not like the consequences."
A shudder goes through me at the dark threat in his voice. I relax a fraction when he closes the door. The key scrapes in the lock just in case I forgot I'm his prisoner. He could have left it open and I wouldn't try to leave.
I may have acted recklessly when I helped Adamo Gianotti escape, but I'm not a fool. Running would give Damiano an excuse to treat me more harshly than he already is. So far, he hasn't harmed me. Not really. I can't give him a reason to start.
So I curl up on the bed and work on calming my nerves. Panic won't serve me. I need to be a good little captive. For now.