Chapter 6
SIX
Katya
By the time Maria arrives at eight o'clock, I'm already showered and dressed in a pair of black pants and a white chiffon blouse I brought with me from home. I'll have to speak to Gabriele about the allowance he promised because I need a new wardrobe.
As the wife of a mafia boss, it’s essential for me to keep up appearances. His power will be reflected in the way I dress.
I’ll also have to do some research into suitable hair salons and day spas in the city. Rome probably has an abundance of places for me to get pampered but I'll need someone to point me in the right direction.
To my surprise, Maria has a small tray with her. There's a cup of espresso on it along with a glass of water.
"Oh, I was going to come down for breakfast," I tell her.
She laughs in an indulgent manner. "No, bella ragazza, this is your espresso to wake you before breakfast."
"I'm already awake, Maria."
She shakes her head. "Signore Volante always starts his day with an espresso. He asks me to show you the same….compensation."
I'm sure she means consideration but I'm not about to correct her. English isn't my first language either and I know how difficult it is to learn.
Picking up the tiny cup, I sip the coffee. It's stronger than I'd usually drink and I have to chase it down with the water.
"Too much?" Maria asks.
"No, it's good."
"You'll get used to it." She pats my shoulder. "Don't worry. It's cappuccino with breakfast." She frowns deeply. "Or do Russian girls drink tea?"
"Many Russians like tea." It's actually a big thing in my homeland. "But I enjoy coffee too."
Maria purses her lips. I'm not sure if I've made some huge social blunder or if she's saving that information for later. I follow her downstairs to a formal dining room that's too large for one person. The long, dark wood table seats eighteen.
A full breakfast has been laid at one end. There's bread, fruit, meats and cheeses along with some pastries. There's also a jug of orange juice. Only one place has been set.
"Sit, sit, Signora." Maria ushers me into my seat.
She may be almost a foot shorter than me since I'm wearing heels, but there's no arguing with her efficient manner.
When I sit, she pats my shoulder again, a gesture of reassurance I'd guess I'll be receiving until she thinks I'm settled here. "I'll fetch your cappuccino."
"Grazie mille, Maria." I exhaust a third of my Italian vocabulary with that one phrase.
As she bustles from the room, I take a look around. Like the other parts of the house I've seen, it's clean and tidy but worn around the edges.
Someone has placed a vase of freshly cut flowers on the windowsill. The edges of the vibrant blue and white petals catch the morning sun. It's a nice pop of color in a room decorated in shades of burgundy.
I wonder if Gabriele is attached to the décor because I am itching to bring it into the twenty-first century.
I reach over to take a couple of strawberries and a pastry with what appears to be an almond glaze. Maria brings my coffee and leaves me alone again.
Perhaps Gabriele ate already since there was only one place set. Or, maybe, he’s not a morning person.
If that's the case, I'll ask Maria not to go to so much trouble. This seems over the top just for me.
I'm halfway through my cappuccino when Lukas saunters into the room, carrying an espresso cup and an empty plate.
"Good morning, Signora Volante." He looks very much at home as he fills his plate with salami, cheese and bread before taking a seat opposite me. "You slept well, I hope."
"I did." No need to tell him it took me hours of tossing and turning, trying to find the right position in the unfamiliar bed before finally enjoying an undisturbed rest. "You're here early."
"My house is on the property. Maria usually feeds me."
"That's good of her."
Lukas nods. "She's more accommodating than his last housekeeper. She kept trying to force muesli on us."
He shudders as if he can't imagine anything more horrific. I can't help laughing because I know this man has seen worse things in his life than a healthy breakfast.
"Does Gabriele rise early?"
"You tell me. You're his wife."
"I've been his wife for less than twenty-four hours."
"True," Lukas acknowledges. "But surely you noticed what time he got up this morning."
Why do I get the feeling he's testing me?
"I slept so soundly I didn't notice him getting up."
Lukas grins. "Good girl." He doesn't elaborate but now I know he was looking to see what I'd say, his reaction tells me he knows my husband won't be sharing my bed.
As I finish my coffee, I find myself at a loss for what to do next. I'm on the verge of returning to my bedroom when Lukas sets down his coffee cup and gets to his feet.
"Would you like a tour of the house?"
"Won't Gabriele show me around?"
"He asked me to do it."
That's unexpectedly disappointing. I know Gabriele is a busy man but I'd like to think he could take some time out to make me feel at home. I guess I should have taken the hint when he abandoned me in the hallway yesterday that he's not going to go out of his way to be welcoming.
My irritation at that will keep for another time.
"Well, in that case." I push back my chair and stand. "Lead the way."
Lukas smiles.
"As you can probably tell, this is the formal dining room."
"There's another?"
"Yes. One is more of a kitchen annex with some seating and the other is for smaller groups."
"So if we were having a large party, it would have to be in here?"
I glance back at the room. At a push the table could accommodate four more people perhaps, but it's still tiny compared with the grand dining hall at my father's house.
"If you were having a large party, you'd book a venue. It's too much of a security risk to have a load of strangers in the house."
"I suppose it is."
That's not something my father was overly concerned about when he invited hundreds of people into our home.
Fueled by an overinflated sense of his own importance, he's never imagined anyone would dare try to take him out.
Gabriele has firsthand experience of how a powerful man can still fall victim to an attack.
It's only natural he'd want to keep people out of his private space. It occurs to me that I'm more privileged than I realize in being allowed to live here with him.
"You okay there?" Lukas asks.
"Huh?"
"You went quiet for a minute."
"Oh, yes." I don't want to tell him what I was really thinking so I choose to ask him something that's been on my mind. "Do you think Gabriele would be open to me remodeling the house?"
Lukas grimaces and I have my answer before he opens his mouth.
"Unless you can do the work yourself, I don't think it will happen."
"Not even a little decorating? The walls, the carpets, maybe?"
The floors I've seen so far are either tiled or wooden and they look fine, but the carpet in my bedroom has seen better days.
"Let me think about how to manage it," Lukas says. "I'll work out a plan and take it to Gabriele."
"Okay."
I follow Lukas as he leads me along endless corridors, pointing out various formal gathering spaces and more intimate family rooms. None of them appear to be used at all.
We pass Gabriele's study but don't stop to look in. We turn a corner and walk along another corridor. The house is on a grander scale than I realized.
"Your English is very good," I observe as he tells me about the layout of the grounds, the guard accommodation I should stay away from, the house where he lives and the garage with an area reserved for Gabriele's use that I must never enter.
"So is yours."
"I had an English nanny growing up. My parents thought it would make me more ladylike."
"Did it work?" Lukas asks with a grin that tells me he's teasing.
"Well, I know not to use a dessert fork with my salad, if that counts for anything." I consider just how useless most of what I've been taught about etiquette has been to me so far in life. "But what about you? Why is your English so good?"
"I studied at LSE."
It takes me a minute to catch up. "London School of Economics?"
"That's right. I did a law degree."
I furrow my brow. "Why would you do an English law degree?"
"Because I wanted to be a lawyer in England."
I roll my eyes as he gives the obvious answer. He winks at me and moves on along the corridor, clearly done with the topic. I leave it be. He'll tell me eventually. They always do.
By the time we've finished with the first floor I've seen kitchens, the other dining space Lukas mentioned, a couple of offices and a media room. He leads me through a glass-paneled corridor into the most modern room I've seen so far, a gym.
"Will I be allowed to use it?" I ask.
Exercise is part of my daily ritual and I can't imagine having access to such a well-equipped gym and not being able to use it.
"Of course." Lukas speaks as if he finds my question ridiculous but I have no idea how much I'm allowed to come and go.
"Oh." I notice the absence of my favorite piece of equipment. "There's no rowing machine."
"You like to row?"
"I love it." There's something about the rhythm, gliding backward and forward, that puts me in the right frame of mind for the day. "My machine back home had different programs where I could choose which river I was on."
"So the Thames one day, the Danube the next?" Lukas asks.
"Precisely. It's never dull."
"I'll arrange to have one brought in for you."
"Really?" I can't contain my joy at hearing that.
"Sure. Gabriele said to make sure you have whatever you need. If that includes a rowing machine, we'll get one." He reaches into his jacket pocket and produces a black credit card. "And while we're on the topic of anything you need, this is for you."
He hands me the card and I look at the gold lettering. Signora Ekaterina Volante. I read it as another sign of premeditation because surely banks don't produce these overnight, even for the most influential clients.
"There'll be a cellphone for you too," Lukas says. "I'll have it sent up to your room when it’s ready.”
"I have a phone."
He shakes his head. "You had a phone. Now you need a new one."
A lifetime of living with security-conscious men has taught me to pick my battles wisely and this one isn't worth engaging in. If Gabriele wants me to have a new phone with all the latest security features and no doubt the best tracking software available, I won't argue.
"Will my contacts be transferred to it?"
"The ones that pass our vetting process. That will take a day or two." He pauses. "Is there someone you wish to call urgently?"
I consider that for a moment and decide that no, there isn't. Speaking to any member of my family right now is out of the question. I'm not ready for the lecture I'll be subjected to.
There are several women I might class as friends if I was using a loose definition of the word. We've attended the same events together, spent time exchanging gossip, but any one of them would leave me dying in the gutter if it bought them some social advantage.
"No." I smile tightly. "There's nothing urgent."
Lukas nods and we carry on with the tour, taking in the upper floor which is mainly bedrooms and a small sitting room with one of those old-fashioned rolltop desks in it.
He tells me I can have it as my own space if I like.
I don't ask what for. I doubt being Gabriele Volante's wife involves a lot of paperwork.
The only thing I'm likely to need to keep track of is attendance at social obligations and I can manage that with a cellphone.
Still, the room would make a good place to retreat to so I accept the offer.
"Those are Gabriele's rooms." Lukas points to a double door. He doesn't even pretend that's something I should know after last night. He walks to the large window at the end of the hall. "The guardhouse is over there."
I join him as he points out a drab single-story gray building that looks like it houses a Soviet-era nuclear bunker.
"And my house is over there."
I follow his finger to a modern concrete and glass dwelling that shouldn't fit the landscape but somehow does. I stare down at the rather bleak gardens.
"Would Gabriele be more open to me changing things out there?" I ask.
"Like what?"
"I'd love somewhere to eat outside."
"There's a table and chairs on the rear terrace."
"Oh, fantastic. So what about some flowerbeds, ornaments perhaps? Oh, I'd love to put a table and chairs right over there."
I point to an area close to the trees.
"I'll add it to the list and see what Gabriele says.
" Lukas turns. "Now, one last thing. If the house is ever under attack, there's a panic room at the back of your closet.
There's a panel on the wall, programmed with your date of birth.
Once you're inside, you'll control whether anyone else gets in. "
"What about Gabriele? What happens to him if we're under attack?"
"He fights the bad guys." Lukas must see the trepidation on my face. "It's not likely to happen, Katya. The house is well protected. There's a team of guards here around the clock and Eduardo and his men are highly trained. You should also know there are cameras everywhere."
"Everywhere?" I squeak.
"Yes, but only Gabriele has access to the ones in your bedroom."
"And the bathrooms?"
Lukas shakes his head. "He's cautious, not a pervert."
"I'm glad to hear it."
There's a low buzz and Lukas takes his phone from his pocket. He answers it with a curt "Pronto."
When he's finished what sounds like a tense call, he puts his phone away.
"Will you be okay if I leave you now?" he asks.
"Yes, of course."
He nods and strides off along the corridor. I stand by the window for a moment and look out. There's so much space. I look down at the credit card in my hand and make a decision.
Whether Gabriele allows me to bring in landscapers and decorators or not, I am going to brighten this place up. If all I can do is bring in a few colorful pillows and some livelier art, then that's what I'll do.
My husband may have been content to live in a mausoleum but I am not. Somewhere between this lifeless interior and the Russian bling I've been used to is a happy medium and I'm going to find it.
This is my home now and I intend to be comfortable here.
If Gabriele has a problem with that, he can take it up with me in person.