Chapter 5
FIVE
Violetta
An hour or so passes before the key turns in the lock once more. The sound is jarring but I'm grateful someone has finally come. My stomach is rumbling and my bladder won't hold out much longer.
Expecting one of Damiano's henchmen, I'm surprised when a woman steps into the room.
She's older, perhaps in her late fifties, with dark gray hair pulled into a low ponytail.
The silhouette of her black dress is severe, but red cheeks and a warm smile soften her appearance.
She looks like a typical grandmother, not that I would know. I never met either of mine.
"Good morning, Signorina Caruso," she says. "I'm Lina, Damiano's housekeeper."
I blink, thrown by her conversational tone. She doesn't seem at all flustered by her boss having a woman locked away in a dank little cell. It makes me wonder if my situation is not as unusual as it should be.
"Damiano asked me to show you to your new room.
" She gestures toward the door. I rise from the bed and walk out into a large open space.
The stairs leading upward confirm that this is a basement.
There's an extensive wine cellar at one end of the room and another door leading to goodness knows where.
A torture chamber, probably.
I follow Lina upstairs and out into a grand hallway. The floors are marble and there's a magnificent fresco on the wall, its fading color revealing the age of the building.
A huge wooden door stands in front of me. Even if there wasn't a tall, muscular man stationed in front of it, I wouldn't try to leave. Not yet. Angering Damiano more than I already have would be a spectacularly bad idea.
We climb one flight of stairs and then another. The house is truly incredible. Its walls are lined with paintings and there are ornate moldings on the ceiling. Sunlight pours in through tall windows. It's beautiful and eerily quiet.
A house this old is bound to have ghosts. It certainly feels like it should.
Lina stops outside a white door with a gold handle and opens it. She stands back to let me enter ahead of her. Considering the opulence of the public areas of the house, the room is surprisingly cozy. It's still a cage, though, no matter how prettily it's decorated.
A wooden bed dominates the space, decorated in cream and pale blue. Glass doors lead out onto a balcony. I walk over and test whether they're locked. They aren't, so I step out carefully.
As I breathe in the fresh air, I realize the balcony is shared with the rooms on either side of this one.
It takes only a moment to realize that the unlocked doors are not a show of trust from Damiano. Even if I survived the sheer drop to the ground, there are guards patrolling the walled garden below. It's an unnecessary reminder of how dangerous my boss is. He leaves nothing to chance.
"Don't worry about them," Lina says as she comes up behind me. "They won't bother you."
Unless Damiano tells them to.
"They have guns," I murmur, more as a mental note to myself than anything else.
"It's for protection. Don't let it worry you."
Though I can't help being concerned about being surrounded by men armed to the teeth, I nod and walk back inside.
"So, what do you think of the room?" Lina asks.
"It's beautiful." Way more luxurious than anything I'm used to.
Lina smiles. "Damiano thought you might like this one."
My eyes widen. I'm amazed he cares about my opinion on his décor. The thought is unsettling, though I don't know why.
"And," Lina continues, "he's right next door if you need anything."
Ah, now I see the reason for the upgraded accommodations. He wants me where he can keep an eye on me. It makes me wonder how long he intends to keep me here.
"That's good," I say when I realize Lina is looking for a response.
"You'll be very comfortable here. We've taken the liberty of hanging your clothes up for you."
"My clothes?"
"Yes, we collected your belongings."
She points to a door on the other side of the room. I go to open it and find a huge closet. About a quarter of it is filled with clothes I recognize instantly as mine. Someone has been to my apartment and taken all my things without so much as asking me if it was okay.
As I look through the rails and some of the drawers, I realize everything is here, neatly arranged. When the hell did this happen? It's clear Damiano plans for me to be here for a while. There's no sign of the purse I brought to work last night or my cellphone, though.
"They should be enough until we can get you fitted for a new wardrobe."
My mouth drops open. "A new wardrobe?"
"Yes, of course. Damiano will provide you with the clothes you'll need."
I can't help wondering what I'll need new clothes for, but I don't ask. "Was he not able to guess my size?" I ask sarcastically.
"He didn't want to be presumptuous." Lina's response holds no trace of irony. She points to another door. "There's a shower through there. I've given you some different products to try. Let me know which you prefer and I'll make sure we have a supply of them."
It's all ridiculous, but none of this is Lina's doing, so I just murmur my thanks.
The older woman reaches out to pat my arm soothingly as if she can sense I'm close to being overwhelmed. The simple act of kindness almost undoes me. My throat tightens and I have to look away.
"What happens now?" I ask quietly. "What does he want from me?"
"Only Damiano can answer the second question, but I can help you with the first. You're going to have breakfast, if you want it, of course."
"Yes, please."
"Will some pastries and coffee be okay for you?"
With the hole in my stomach demanding to be filled, it sounds like heaven. "That would be great."
"Cappuccino?"
"I prefer espresso." It makes a better start to the day in my opinion. Of course, my day usually begins much later due to working at a nightclub.
"Certainly. Make yourself comfortable. I won't be long."
When she closes the door behind her, I notice she doesn't lock it. She has no reason to, of course. This place is heavily guarded. Nobody can get in or out unless Damiano chooses to let them.
I return to the window and look out over the gardens, which are glorious. Sunlight glints off a white marble fountain at the center of a perfectly manicured lawn. Damiano said this place was a palazzo.
Considering what I've seen of the house and gardens, I'm guessing it was built during the Renaissance. I don't know where we are, but beyond the high walls at the back of the property there are other houses visible, so I imagine we're somewhere in the city.
Kicking off my heels, I walk to the dressing table at the other side of the room to look in the mirror. The woman staring back at me is a mess.
Black shadows lie heavy beneath my eyes. The blonde hair Elena convinced me would suit me is all wrong. It's too stark a contrast to the dark brown of my eyebrows.
A bruise has formed on my neck, around the spot where Riccardo stuck me with a needle. There's a listless air about me. I barely recognize myself.
Rather than waiting for Lina to reappear with breakfast, I decide to take a shower. It should help me feel more human. I head into the bathroom and strip off my clothes, so relieved to get out of the damned corset I could cry.
The shower is a fancy one with a digital display. It's surprisingly easy to use. I program my preferred temperature into it and hit the button for high pressure. It's perfect. As the water cascades over my shoulders, I relax a little.
I do some of my best thinking in the shower, but this morning I can't come up with a plan to survive whatever Damiano has in store for me. It's obvious he isn't going to kill me. Not yet.
He wouldn't have brought all my clothes here and given me a nice room if that's what he intended, but the fact he's prepared for me to be here for the foreseeable future confuses me. I don't know Damiano as anything other than my boss, but I have seen how he operates.
The man does nothing by accident.
Using some of the neroli-scented shampoo on the shelf, I wash my hair. I could stay here under the warm water all day, so I have to force myself to switch the shower off and get out of the cubicle. I grab a couple of towels, wrapping one around my body and drying my hair with the other.
When I return to the bedroom, I find breakfast waiting on the dressing table.
I didn't hear Lina come back to the room.
She's left me a tray with a couple of croissants, a glass of orange juice, and a coffee on it.
I bite into a croissant and sip the juice.
It alleviates the dryness in my mouth caused by whatever drug Riccardo injected into me.
As soon as I've finished my breakfast, I go to find clothes.
If I'm going to be sitting around for a while waiting for Damiano to put in an appearance, I want to be comfortable, so I choose yoga pants and a t-shirt.
I'm just slipping on a pair of sneakers when someone knocks at the door. It's unlikely to be my captor.
"Come in."
I anticipate Lina walking through the door, but instead it's a younger woman. Dressed in a blue tunic with the logo of a salon I could never afford to visit and matching pants, she carries a leather case with her. Her eyes flick over me briefly.
"I'm Sofia," she says. "I've been asked to take care of your hair."
"What?"
"Signore Volante wants your hair back to its natural color."
Oh, does he now?
Although I'm keen to get rid of the blonde, I don't like Damiano taking the choice away from me.
"And what if that's not what I want?"
"Uh…" Sofia looks stricken and I realize I'll be putting her in a horrible position if I refuse to cooperate. "Signore Volante was quite clear in his instructions."
"In that case, I guess we should get on with it."
Sofia scans the room and gestures to the chair at the dressing table. "We can set up over there. If you'd like to sit, we'll get you back to normal in no time."
As I go to take a seat, I can't help thinking that will never happen. Whatever I thought was normal, it's gone. The question now, is what comes next.