CHAPTER 1 – RIFT
People are like art; everyone holds secrets, some deeper than others.
I love getting to the truth; glancing over a Renaissance painting in Florence’s Pitti Palace where an exclusive art auction is about to begin, I make a note on my tablet, lowering reading glasses to peer at it.
The poplar base of the painting is the right wood to be Raphael and the egg tempera the correct paint, and there are Raphael’s trademark brushstrokes.
This is unlike any Raphael I’ve ever seen, however, with a dark demon and a luminous fae looming over a sleeping knight, seeming at once like a fake.
But I know it’s real.
I can’t explain how I know, I just do with my instincts as a Summer Fae. As I move closer, I tuck a wild lock of my red hair back; I don white silk gloves, sliding my fingertips over the painting as I feel for modern work.
As I turn it, I inspect every inch of the piece with my skills as an international Antiquities Authentication and Curation specialist at the firm Robar, Fisk he smiles in relief to know this piece is authentic.
A human, he does not know creatures like Fae and Vampires are real—but that’s information I can never break to him.
As I have no magic other than my Fae instincts, raised in the human world rather than the Twilight Realm, I will never be the one to tell him what this painting actually depicts.
Beings of magic—alive and well in the world.
“This item’s donor often contributes to our auctions, and has donated many exquisite pieces over the years.” The Pitti’s director says now as he smiles. “Still, we were happy to have you look at this painting since it was so very odd, Ms. Summers.”
“Call me Ariana, please.” I’m genial with him now, even though I’m tired from having flown in from an auction in Cairo the day before, and Singapore the day before that.
I smile at the palace’s director, even though I haven’t been home yet to my apartment here in Florence. “Your donor must be very generous.”
“He is.” The man smiles back with genuine pleasure. “We are very lucky to have the Barone Quindici DaPonti donate as often as he does. Though he forbids us from erecting a plaque in the Pitti to thank him for his generosity.”
“It would mar the beauty of this palace you are trying to so painstakingly restore, Direttore Voglio. Which we cannot have.”
A smooth, sexy voice has interrupted the Pitti’s Director.
Turning, I blink at the man who has entered the room; only approved individuals are allowed back here during auctions.
Though the Palace’s security guards in their black Italian suits glance at the man, they keep their beefy hands crossed like he’s welcome.
As for the man, he’s exquisite. I’m suddenly aware of how I must look from five days of back-to-back international flights as he approaches us.
I’m an art world professional with my slim grey suits and stiletto heels; but my hair’s wild red Fae waves always make me look renegade, even when they’re mostly constrained like today.
Smoky makeup accentuates my bright jade eyes, crimson lipstick on my lips, but my look was hastily managed on the plane.
And this man looks like he demands perfection.
Dressed in a slim black Armani suit with a blood-red silk pocket square, he’s tall with nice shoulders, a lean waist, and an elegant demeanor.
His perfectly styled short dark hair has gold and auburn hi-lights as he passes beneath the overhead spotlights, his dark eyebrows straight and cheekbones almost viciously high.
He’d look severe except for his sensual lips and his obvious delight as he takes me in.
As he clasps hands with the Pitti’s Director, I note a gold Rolex on his wrist, gold and onyx rings on his long white fingers. The stones in his ensemble resemble his onyx eyes. As he looks at me, I feel myself fall into those eyes.
He lifts my hand as he bends, leaving the softest kiss on my skin.
“Ms. Ariana Summers.” He says. “Your reputation precedes you. I am honored to have my donation be evaluated by the rising star of Robar, Fisk this is far more than just low blood sugar, however, as I get lightheaded now from the Barone’s cold-hot touch.
A dark aura devours the drawing room, then; like a vicious sea, it boils all around, swallowing the lights like some kind of wrathful god. I startle as that black aura roils through the room, flashing with crimson and gold fire.
And it’s coming from the Barone.
Startled, I jerk my hand from the Barone’s—his touch scalding now as he stares at me.
I don’t know what he is, but I know what I’ve seen.
Magic courses off him, dark magic; though I’ve seen magic from minor spells my father has worked over the years at our manor near Florence, my heart races to see it now.
Magic isn’t common in the human world, as few Twilight creatures live here. As if my very blood leaps to the Barone’s, though, as if he somehow provoked this massive flush all through me, tingles rush inside me now. I rub my neck as my hackles rise and I back away.
Allured, yet shocked by him.
“Ms. Summers? Are you well?” Direttore Voglio frowns at my reaction to his best donor.
With a blink, I’m released from the Barone DaPonti’s gaze.
“Forgive me, Direttore, I think I forgot to eat today. Is there anything…?” I ask, though that strange sun-bright heat still blazes through me.
“Of course.” The palace director smiles, gesturing to a side door.
“We have a catering spread for our staff working the auction tonight. A ladies’ bathroom is across the hall, if you’d like to freshen up.
The auction will begin in twenty minutes—please make yourself comfortable now that you are finished. We are very lucky to have you.”
“Thank you, Direttore. Barone DaPonti, if you will excuse me.” I say to them both now, though that reeling sensation resurges as I glance at the Barone.
He only gives a gentlemanly nod, however, standing with almost marble perfection now as his onyx eyes penetrate me.
A sensation like graves sighs from him and I shiver, still feeling that dark aura of magic curl around me in the air.
I set a hand to my temple, shaking my head.
Whatever he is, whatever power he has, it’s too strong to evade.
As the Barone steps closer with his piercing gaze.
“Ms. Summers, would you like an escort to find a bite before the auction?”
“No, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” My words are brisk, though I have to clutch the nearest table as I turn. The Pitti’s guards move forward as I stumble, but the Barone is quick. As my vision flashes out and I faint, his long hands shoot in.
And catch me.
As he clutches me to his perfectly sculpted frame, I see his dark eyes flare with crimson and gold. I feel as if the entire universe drops away as I stare into that ring of fire around the Barone’s drowning black eyes.
It’s like watching the corona of the sun during a solar eclipse; the lights in the room dazzle me now with a thousand colors all around. A high whine hits my ears, my vision blazing. When the room returns, I’m still in his arms.
Staring up into his incredible dark eyes.
I inhale, freeing myself from his embrace and backing away from him—even as something inside me screams to get closer. As I use the auction tables for support, I hold out a hand to ward him off as I back towards the side door.
I don’t mean to make such a rude gesture to a wealthy donor, but it’s like I have to ward him away. Brightness still blazes inside me as darkness surges around the Barone. I make it to the door; a vast aura of dark smoke roils from him as he watches me with his knowing black eyes.
No one else in the room can see his magical aura as my back hits the door.
Humans can’t see magic, and rarely feel it unless they’re half-breeds.
I’m full-blooded Fae, even though I don’t have any magic.
My heart thunders now from feeling the Barone’s alluring yet terrible power as I enter an unrestored suite with mildewing green velvet drapes and tarnished candelabra.
A spread of food waits on the tables, but I barely see it as I untangle my wild red hair from my jewelry in a nervous tic.
I can still feel the Barone’s dark aura boiling all around me—not to mention this searing light inside me.
As I take a door marked Toilette, I come into a new section of the palace.
And blink, shocked.