I open the back door and step out onto the porch. The back looks well lit. I call for the cat a few times but nothing. Typical cat. I take another few steps out farther. I look back into the house. Maybe I should get Cato. I never did like the dark.
“You can do this yourself,” I reassure myself. What other choice do I have? I don’t want to ask him to help. He’d probably be amused at my fear of the dark. I would have to admit weakness to him, and I’m not prepared to do any more of that. He’s already seen me in the most vulnerable of times.
I know the fear is irrational, but it’s one that I’ve had since I was a girl hiding under the bed thinking I was about to die. I hate it. It makes me weak. Here I am saying I want to ruin a man like Cato, but I’m scared of the damn dark.
I stand up a little straighter and make myself venture out farther into the night, calling for the kitten. I freeze when I think I hear a meowing sound. I turn my attention toward the noise. It seems to be venturing farther from the house and toward the vineyard area. I’ve come out here a few times with Carter. The vineyard is endless. It’s also the last place I want to be in the dark. Of course, the kitten couldn’t choose a well-lit area to roam off to.
“Kitty. Here, kitty.” My call is met with another meow. I squint and think I see the kitten down one of the long rows of vines.
I take off toward her, and she darts over a row, then another, then dashes down another, her tail up as she hurries away from me.
“Kitty, come on.” I follow, crossing rows whenever there’s a break in the vines and the horizontal supports. Down a hill, then up another, the kitten puts me through my paces.
I finally get close enough to almost touch her when she dives between two vines and hides in a scrubby flower bush.
“Kitty, what are you doing?” I ask and bend down to pick her up. She nuzzles my chest for warmth. It’s chilly out here. I should’ve grabbed a sweater or something. “I’ll get you inside. There’s a little boy who’ll keep you warm all night.” I kiss the top of her head, which earns me a loud purr.
I turn to go back the way I came, but five minutes later I’m pretty sure I’ve made a wrong turn somewhere. This area is like one of those corn mazes that get your direction all messed up. The only light I have is from the moon.
“You’re fine. No one is going to hurt you here,” I tell myself as I watch clouds start to cover the moon. I move faster, trying to backtrack. This can’t be that hard. But the darker it gets, the more I start to panic. I’m pretty sure I’m going in circles.
My eyes burn with the need to cry. Which is dumb. I’m fine. The vineyard is safe. It’s then I realize I haven't cried in a few days. I guess I’m about to break that streak. I sit down in the middle of a grassy row and just try to breathe and think. The hills around me are too high to see the house. The thing is massive. How is that even possible?
I suck in a breath when I hear a snapping sound. Why hadn't I brought my knife? Because I let myself get too comfortable here in the lion’s den. Damn.
But whoever it is will help me. It has to be one of Cato’s soldiers. Or maybe a gardener. Or Flavia. Maybe that mean old bat got tired of cooking and came out here for a walk. I open my mouth but can’t bring myself to make a sound. Home isn't always safe. You never know who is really lurking. I know that better than most. So I remain as quiet as I can. Panic begins to rise in my throat.
I see something big moving. There’s no way that’s not a man, and he’s coming right at me.
“Gotcha, bitch,” he grunts.
I scramble to my feet and clutch the kitten tightly before turning to run. I take just two steps, when I hear and feel a hard thump on the ground. I glance behind me, then slow, then stop.
The man grunts and gurgles. Another man’s on top of him. The clouds drift open enough for the moonlight to show me Cato, his eyes on me and his dagger in the man’s throat.
He looks up at me, our eyes locking. The only thing I can think is that he’s saved me for the second time in my life.
12
Cato
His warm blood spills over my hand as I finish him.
Apollonia looks at me with a mix of amazement and fear, though it’s hard to see much in the dark.
“The fuck?” Santino runs up behind me, then I hear the pounding of several pairs of feet. My soldiers. When I’d found Carter upset that Apollonia hadn’t returned with the kitten, something inside me went cold. My instincts told me something was wrong, and they were dead on.
I stand and kick the bastard in the side. “An assassin.” I yank his shirt up and wipe my hands, leaving his filth where it belongs.
Santino drops onto his haunches and pats the man’s pockets. “Not a fucking thing.” He stands and whirls on my men. “Where the fuck were you? Who was on watch? And why is there a killer on Davinci grounds?” he barks. His vengeance will be just as swift as mine. And I have far bigger issues than discipline right now.
“Little lioness.” I go to Apollonia and pull her close.
The kitten meows between us, so I let up a little, but I don’t free Apollonia from my embrace.
“You’re shaking.” I rub her back.
“It’s cold. I got lost. And then I heard something.” Her voice trembles.
I’m drawn back to that ghastly day when her parents were murdered right in front of her as she hid beneath the bed, forced to watch yet remain silent as her mother’s blood stained the floor beside her.
With a fluid move, I lift her and the kitten into my arms, then turn and stalk past my men. Santino’s already drawn blood, and I trust he’ll get to the bottom of this lapse.
“I got so lost,” she says again. “The rows look the same. The hills look the same, and I couldn’t … I couldn’t find …” Her voice trails off.
“You’re in shock.” With sure strides, I carry her up the hill and out of the vineyard.
We pass through a grove of olive trees before entering through the stone gate along the south side of the house.
“I found the kitten, but I couldn’t find the way back.” Her eyes water as she looks up at me. “I’m lost, just like I’ve always been.”
“You aren’t lost, Apollonia. I have you.” I carry her into the kitchen, then straight up the stairs to her room.
By the time I reach her bed, tears are rolling down her cheeks.
“I lost my parents, then I lost Carter, but in between all that, I lost myself. I wanted to be someone else, to be free of my family’s legacy. But I can’t. I was lost when I ran from this place. Just like I’m lost right now.”
I yank the blanket from her bed and wrap it around her. The kitten jumps away and starts kneading a pillow and purring.
Dropping to my knees, I take Apollonia’s hand. “I swear you are not lost, little lioness. You are here with me, Cato Davinci. And you are strong. So much stronger than I ever thought possible. The day I pulled you from beneath that bed, I thought I’d found a beautiful, broken girl. One who would never recover from that night.”
She gasps. “You remember?”
“Every second of it,” I confess, finally freeing the truth. “I saved you that night. Not for you to become lost, but for you to find yourself. And you have.” I kiss her hand. “You are every bit of your mother’s kindness and every bit of your father’s ruthlessness. Fearsome and tender. Rash and calculated. You have proven it over and over from the moment I saw you at that funeral.”