“Y-yes,” she nearly sobbed out. I had her right on the edge, and I’d barely touched her.
“Good.”
And though it was one of the most difficult things I’d ever done, I let her go, leaving her so needy for me that she crumpled like a piece of wadded up paper to the plush carpet. I hurried out of her room without looking at her, then slammed the door shut behind me. Racing to my quarters and the massive shower it held, I stripped off as rapidly as physically possible, turned on the hot water and slipped inside, as desperate to seek relief as Lucia had been.
3
Lucia
After a restless sleep brimming with erotic dreams, I awoke feeling strange and out of sorts. Romeo had taunted me to the point where my body was throbbing, and I’d wanted him to take me, even if it hurt. Although my father had kept careful tabs on his daughter’s internet use, he’d allowed us all the girly magazines we could ever read, and one of them had mentioned that discomfort was possible during a woman’s first time. Back then, all I’d known about sex had been severely limited, and I’d dreamed of a tender husband who loved me and would never harm me. Even at that time, I’d known my marriage would be arranged, but I hadn’t suspected it would be to a man like Romeo Cavetti.
What worried me more than his violence and dangerous nature was my reaction to it. While I hadn’t ever wanted him to kill or hurt my famiglia, I yearned for his calloused hands to do what they did to me the night before all over again. Which made me disgusted with myself. Why would I want my father’s murderer to be within five hundred feet of me? Much less in my room tormenting me with pleasure? Something must be wrong with me. Perhaps all that had transpired had caused so much pressure to my sanity that I was permanently broken. Perhaps what I really needed was a padded cell and a straitjacket, which wouldn’t be all that far from what I had now.
I’d been on my knees again praying to Santa Maria, when the Cavetti’s maid appeared behind me. I turned, noticing that her movements seemed furtive. Cautious. As if she were sneaking around. She carried no meal and when she spoke, it was in a whisper as if not wishing to be overheard.
“Signorina. I have news.”
This piqued my interest. In all my time here, she’d only ever denied my requests and told me next to nothing. “What sort of news?”
“It is about your famiglia. Your sorelle and fratellos.”
“My sisters and brothers?” I clamped my hand onto her arm. “What is it?”
“They are here like you. Held.”
“Alive?” I asked, just to clarify.
“Yes.”
“Where?” I knew she might not tell me. I also knew me knowing might not help since I had no clue as to where my room resided in relation to the mansion—if indeed the Cavettis had taken us to the overly extravagant home I’d heard my father scoff about. Still, I had to question her.
She glanced toward the door as if nervous, lowering her voice so much that I had to lean in to make out her words. “On the other end of this floor are your sorelle. Your fratellos are in the basement. In the dungeons.”
Dungeons? That sounded far less comfortable than my own accommodation, but I clung to the notion of them being alive above all else. I had to be grateful for any small mercies.
“Can you get a message to them?”
She hesitated. “Signorina, I…”
“Nothing elaborate. Just… if you get a chance, tell them I’m here, too. Safe and alive.” Not that I could guarantee my own safety, but if Romeo’s behavior during his recent visits were any indication, he seemed less interested in killing me. If I could stay alive long enough—and hatch some sort of escape plan—I could try to get my famiglia out. Though the odds would be against me, no doubt.
The maid nodded, and I gave her a fleeting hug. “Thank you, Philippa. Sincerely, It means the world to me that you brought me this good news.”
“You are welcome, signorina.” She squeezed her lips together in a tentative smile—the first I’d seen her give—then quietly, ducked out of the room.
I felt a surge of joy at the knowledge that my famiglia was here with me, even if they were held captive. As long as that stayed true, hope remained.
When Philippa came back later that evening with my dinner, I pumped her for information again, wondering if perhaps she’d managed to deliver my message to them.
“No. I did not see any of them today. But I will tell them if I have the opportunity.”
Rashly, I embraced the girl a second time, making her nearly drop my meal. But having someone at least partially on my side in this place had filled me with more optimism than I thought I’d ever have. “I am so thankful for you, Philippa.”
Only then did I realize she’d brought more to me than my dinner. She’d also brought a box.
“For you,” she said, before departing.
I’d been so consumed with ideas about how to reconnect with my brothers and sisters that I’d missed my chance to ask who had sent the box. I pushed it aside. Who knew who it might be from or what it might contain, though the most likely culprit was Romeo. He seemed to be fond of sending me presents, though only to torment me with them or demand I treat them in a certain way. My eyes drifted over to the Blue Beauty butterfly encased in its glass box. Nothing was ever simple or pure when it came to him.
I was beginning to understand that everything the man did had some ulterior motive. He delighted in toying with me, in making me crave things I shouldn’t. Even though my father probably had killed Gianni, or perhaps, ordered the hit on him, I couldn’t forgive Romeo for shooting him right there in front of me. And I couldn’t forgive the fact that even though Romeo himself had not pulled the trigger on my mother, his actions were what led to her demise.
I hated Romeo Cavetti so much. With a passion.
And yet, passion had become an issue between us. In truth, it had always been an issue, or maybe a link between us. Despite the horror and the violence I’d witnessed from him, my body still craved his. Incessantly. It was like my identity had somehow been torn in two. The dedicated and demure daughter I’d been raised to be remained the good Lucia, while this bizarre woman with wanton desires I didn’t even recognize had become the bad Lucia.
I didn’t know that bad girl, but she was there, nevertheless, concealing herself just beneath the surface. I could feel her anytime Romeo came around as if his presence brought her more and more to life. Even thinking about him and what he did to me made her rise to prominence. Sometimes I wondered if this bad Lucia might take me over entirely.
In my dreams, my bad side had been every bit in charge. She had responded even more lustfully than I had. The scene between Romeo and I had played out much more colorfully. Explicitly. Because when he’d asked me if I was wet in my dream, I’d responded with…
“Yes, I’m wet, and it’s all because of you.”
There was something so much more enticing about this racy version of myself, too. Something more enthralling. Maybe because Romeo had brought me to the edge of something I’d never experienced previous to knowing him, and I wanted to careen over that edge and find out what lay on the other side. I found myself so curious. Fascinated by what he might be offering me. Tempted.