“Luca wouldn’t have left Grendel,” I blurt out. “I can see where you’d believe that he’d leave to keep me safe, but he’d never have left Grendel. He knows Grendel is miserable without him.”
Damien’s expression grows even more sympathetic and I resist the urge to punch him.
“I’m serious,” I insist. “Luca wouldn’t have left him.”
Damien shakes his head. “Luca would do anything to keep you safe. If it wasn’t convenient to take Grendel, then he’d leave him. Grendel might be a loyal pet, but he’s still but a dog, Eva.”
A lump forms in my throat, a hard knot that I can’t seem to swallow.
“He wouldn’t,” I whisper limply. But to be honest, I’m not so sure.
“There’s no sign of a struggle,” Damien says calmly. “Trust me, we’ve looked. Oliver’s teams have searched everywhere for any sign. They’ve found nothing but an empty garage stall. It appears he left on his own free will, Eva. Knowing that Adrian breached Chessarae probably drove him to this decision. My heart tells me that he left to protect you. He’s my brother. If I had any inkling that there was foul play here, I’d take immediate action. But there is no sign of that. We can’t overreact and bring in the polizia. We have to protect Luca’s secret.”
My heart breaks again at his words and I press my lips together to keep from crying. Luca’s secret. God, I’m tired of being held hostage by Luca’s secret. The secret that was thrust upon him through no fault of his own.
“What do we do now, then?” I finally manage to ask.
“We wait,” Damien answers softly, reaching over to grip my shoulder. “I’ll get Oliver hunting for him, but I’m guessing he doesn’t want to be found until Adrian has been dealt with.”
“But what if Adrian finds him first?” Even I can hear the panic in my voice. Damien hears it too and almost visibly flinches. I can tell he’s not used to being around devastated females.
“We have to have faith that that won’t happen,” he answers firmly. “Eva, you should go rest. This has all been so much. You’ve had a shock.”
A shock. That’s what he calls Luca leaving me? I shake my head as I walk from the study and pad toward my bedroom. Apparently, Damien doesn’t think I’m in as much danger now, now that Luca is trying to draw the danger to himself like a magnet, because he lets me walk alone.
But as I close my bedroom doors behind me, doubt floods me.
I know Luca and he would’ve thought this through from every angle. He would be worried that his plan wouldn’t work, that Adrian would target me simply to cause more pain to Luca. If something happened to me, it would hurt him far worse than if something happened to himself. For that reason, it’s hard to fathom that he would leave me here, defenseless.
Then again, he knows I’m not defenseless. I’m smart, I’m hidden behind the walls of Chessarae and his two brothers will be here to protect me if I need it.
I fall into a chair and stare at the fire in the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and spit.
I don’t know what to think. The only thing I’m sure of is that Luca is gone and he took part of me with him.
********
One day without Luca turns into two, two into four and so on.
Each day that passes without him is empty and barren. It’s as much because of the fact that I simply miss him as it is the fact that I’m afraid for him. I don’t know where he is and I’m afraid for the things that I don’t know… for the things that he could be facing this very minute without me.
“Eva?”
Marianne’s voice is questioning and I can tell that she’s said my name more than once. I bring myself back to the present and focus again on my only friend in Malta.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her, reaching to fill her tea cup. “I was thinking of something else, I’m afraid.”
Marianne nods, her lined face concerned. “I can see that,” she says gently. “What were you thinking of? Is everything all right, little dove?”
Her endearment causes my insides to clench, aching to crumble and tell her everything, to ask for her sage advice. But I can’t. Luca’s very life could depend on me keeping the secret… so that Damien’s men can find him, unhindered by police questioning and involvement.
“I’m fine,” I answer. “Just tired. I haven’t been sleeping well. But I’m very glad you have come to visit me today. I could use your good company.”
She smiles. “You know I love seeing you. And I love seeing your beautiful home. It’s not many people who are fortunate enough to be granted access. You’ve given me a golden ticket with your friendship, my dear.”
She laughs and I laugh and I pretend that all is well. It’s a pretense that I’ve gotten good at.
“How is that man of yours?” Marianne asks as she takes a bite of biscotti. “And when will the wedding be? I haven’t heard you speaking of in a while.”
I sigh. “I don’t know when the wedding will be,” I tell her honestly, skipping over her inquiry about Luca. “Soon maybe. Or maybe not. Things are rather in the air right now.”
Marianne’s wise eyes sharpen on my face. “Is there a reason why?” she asks quietly. “Has something happened?”
I quickly shake my head, already regretting my words. “No. Luca is just… busy. Very busy. And it’s hard to carve out the time.”
Marianne stares at me, studying my face, before she finally nods slowly. “Well, a wedding is important,” she replies. “You’ll have to get him to take the time. Chessarae will be beautiful for a wedding. And you’ll be a beautiful bride.”
My throat squeezes tight at her words because in my head, I’d had it all planned out. There would’ve been white flowers everywhere… gardenias, lilies, roses… the heady scents would carry down the beach for miles. There would’ve been candles in every corner and my dress would’ve been stunning. Luca and I would’ve been happier than any two people on earth.
Would’ve been.
Those thoughts are distant memories, however. Trite, inconsequential things in the face of what my reality is now.
“Yes,” I agree with her tightly. “Chessarae will be beautiful for a wedding.” For Damien’s or Christoph’s. Probably not for mine.
I am numb throughout the rest of our visit, going through the motions, smiling, chatting, laughing. All of it is fake and half-hearted, but I pray that Marianne doesn’t know it. She’s the kindest soul I’ve known and I’d hate to hurt her feelings.
After she leaves, I stroll the halls of Chessarae, restless and alone. And since I’m not really thinking, I find myself in the unlikeliest of places.
Melina’s wing of the house.
I hesitate at the mouth of the dark hallway, staring into the dark abyss. No one has entered it since Melina’s death, since her caretaker Sophia moved out and into Valetta. I’d wanted to offer her a job elsewhere in the house, but Luca had been hesitant. I think it hurt him to have someone so close to his mother near, and I could see that Sophia didn’t want anything more to do with Chessarae anyway.
I can hardly blame her. She’d tolerated so much during her time here. Of course she’d want to leave as quickly as she could.
I take a step, then another, and before I know it, I’m standing in the middle of Melina’s abandoned suite.
The silence is deafening. Not a thing has been moved and Melina’s things are strewn about here and there. A cashmere throw is folded over the back of a leather chaise. Her slippers still sit next to her bed. Her perfumes are lined up on her mirrored vanity and I lift one to my nose, inhaling the expensive flowery scent.
I close my eyes, remembering how interesting Melina could be in her few lucid moments. But I also remember how vicious she could be otherwise.
My son is evil. He is the devil’s, not mine. I should’ve had his nurse drown him when he was an infant.
I squeeze my eyes tighter at the memory of those words, remembering how Luca had refused to react, how his eyes had hardened… because he was accustomed to h
is mother’s horrible claims and her vitriol toward him.
I open my eyes again. How had Luca managed to come out of his childhood as normal as he is? I don’t know. It fascinates the Psychiatrist in me. With his drug-induced episodes aside, Luca has remarkably few emotional scars. At least so far as I have seen. The human mind’s ability to shield itself from injury is remarkable.
Moving through her rooms, I come across a small writing desk that faces the sea. Sitting, I stare at her papers and books, my eye falling on a thick leather bound journal, embossed with Melina’s monogram. Picking it up, I find myself reading the demented ramblings of a dead woman.
But it begins when she is not demented. It begins years ago, when the boys were small.
Dear Mother,
I’ll never give you these letters. I want you to continue to believe that your little Melina has a happy, perfect life. But the truth is, I do not. I have no one to talk to, because I can’t speak to you of this. You’d just tell me to square my shoulders and do my duty. And I will, mother. But I hate it here. I love Nicolas with all of my heart, but Chessarae is stifling. The walls close in on me, mother. And the boys. I watch them like a hawk, to see if and when one of them will develop Nicolas’s curse. None of them have shown signs yet, but little Lukey was sleep-walking the other night. I had him confined to his room. I don’t know what else to do. Nicolas does terrible things in the night, Mother. He can’t help it and he tells me it will get worse. I wish he’d told me of it before we married.
The first entry ends abruptly here, as though Melina was interrupted. My heart pounds as I read her most innermost thoughts.
Little Lukey was sleepwalking.
Adrian, of course, wasn’t old enough at that point to poison Luca. Which means that his father had not only poisoned Nicolas, but he’d also begun poisoning a little boy… setting Luca on a course that was meant to eventually destroy him. The monsters here are not the Minaldis, but most certainly the Leopoldos.
And one Leopoldo is still living, intent on finishing what he started.
The lump that has been in my throat for days returns and I swallow hard, trying to dislodge it. Closing the book, I take it with me as I hurry from Melina’s haunted rooms. Her ghost might not be here, but her presence is as strong as when she was still living.
Even her presence is chilling.
Chapter Eleven
Luca
Eva’s voice floats through the crypt again, through the speakers that Adrian has rigged in the corners. He plays her voicemails to me periodically, from a remote location. It’s a mechanism designed to torture.
“Luca, please. Just come home. Or pick up the phone. You didn’t help me by leaving. Everything is worse with you gone… I don’t know if you’ve found Adrian, if you’re safe. I love you. Please call me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to will away the sound of her frustration and pain. She thinks I left her. Adrian has made sure of that.
I shift in the chair he moved me to, the metal chair that is cold against my bare back. Clad only in my trousers, the cold emanates from everywhere around me, from the very walls. It keeps me in a constant state of shivering. My arms are tied behind me, my fingers impotent after falling asleep from lack of circulation.
But a thought occurs to me. I have a pocketknife in my trousers.
If I could just tip my chair over, I could maybe knock the knife from my pocket and I could grab it. It’s a long shot. But I have no other choice.
Rocking back and forth, I ignore the way the ropes cut into my hands and with a last hard shove, I sprawl onto my side.
Lying still, I listen for Adrian. The stone floor is cold against as I listen, but there is only silence.
I wriggle about, trying as hard as I can to jar the knife loose from my pocket. I strain my ears, listening for the metallic clink it would make against the floor.
It doesn’t come.
But Adrian does.
His voice emerges from the dark in a roar, and before I even know where he is, he stomps on my hands, which are still bound to the chair.
I flinch, but otherwise don’t acknowledge the debilitating pain. Behind the blindfold, bright shoots of light explode from my eyes, a reaction to the pain, and I squeeze my eyelids closed. Broken fingers won’t kill me.
Adrian pulls my chair upright, and when he speaks again, his mouth is very close to my ear.
“If you try to escape again, I swear to God above that I will bring Eva here and kill her in front you. But I’ll rape her first, and I’ll make you watch. She’ll scream your name and beg for your help, but you’ll be helpless. Weak. She’ll die knowing that you failed her.”
I know he’ll do it. So I won’t do anything to escape. I’ll sit here and I’ll take whatever Adrian gives me.
For her.
Chapter Twelve
Eva
Dear Mother,
The wind that comes in from the cliffs calls to me. It beckons me. I want to end it. I want to end it all. Only Nicolas’s promise that all will be well keeps me from it. Even though I know he lies.
The same wind that Melina speaks of blows across my balcony now and rustles the pages of her journal and I lay it down in my lap, looking across the lawns to the rocky ledge that leads to the beach below.
I’m only halfway through Melina’s journal and it’s only now that she begins to sound disturbed, the way she did when I knew her. At this point in her journal, it’s still years before she died.
I don’t know why I continue reading, only that I hope to learn something about her… about her motives, her mind. Perhaps even something about the Minaldi family that I don’t already know. People tend to be more truthful in their journals, when they rest assured that no one will read it.
A hint of nausea wells up in me and I swallow hard, taking a drink of chamomile tea to try and soothe it. With all of the stress, my stomach hasn’t handled it well. As I glance at the clock and see that it is almost three in the afternoon, I realize that I haven’t eaten today.
No wonder I feel sick. Tucking the journal into my desk, I hurry down to the kitchen to find something to eat.
As I stand staring at the massive kitchen, with it’s huge expanse of counters, the walls suddenly do close in on me, much as Melina describes in her journal. Being confined to Chessarae does grow stifling.
On a whim, I decide to leave. Damien is gone for a few days to see to some business and Christoph is here in his place. He’s out riding right now, so there’s no one to report to. I slip out the back doors and head down to the beach before anyone sees me. With quick steps, I hurry toward Marianne’s.
When I burst through the restaurant door, her face lights up.
“Bella mia!” she exclaims, dropping the stack of paper she was looking at. “I’m so happy to see you.” She kisses both of my cheeks and motions for a waiter to bring some wine and bread.
“Come and sit,” she instructs, pulling me with her to a secluded table by the windows. “What has brought you here, bella? Why do you look so sad?”
“Is it that apparent?” I murmur, grasping her wrinkled hand tightly. “I wish I could tell you. I really do. But I’ve been carrying around a secret and it’s eating me from the inside.”
Just saying that much brings me such a sense of relief, as if I’m not alone in the world any longer. With Luca gone and Damien closed away in Luca’s study much of the time, I’m almost always alone. Only the burdens of the secret keep me company.
Marianne raises an eyebrow. “You can trust me with any secret, bella,” she chides me. “Haven’t you known me long enough to know that?”
I want to. God, how I want to. It’s all become so much to bear.
My hand shakes as I take a sip of wine, then another. I look at Marianne.
“If I tell you, you have to promise to not ever breathe a word.”
She glances at my face, then nods solemnly. “What is it, Eva?” she asks softly. “What has you so troubled?”
So I
tell her. I don’t go into the details of what Luca did and that he was involved with the girls who were murdered, but I tell her that the Minaldi’s have a secret and because of the secret, Luca has left to protect me… and that I feel so alone.
“You’re not alone, bella,” she says simply, after I’m finished speaking. “You’re never alone. I’m here for you.”
She gathers me into her arms and gives me a warm hug. “You’re always welcome here. If it becomes too much to bear at Chessarae, you can always come here. You can stay here until you find a place of your own, or until you want to return home to America.”
I stare at her. “But see, that’s the problem. Chessarae is my home now. I can’t leave. I have to wait for Luca.”
She shakes her head, troubled on my behalf. “But you don’t know when he’ll return.”
She doesn’t utter the word I know she’s thinking.
If.
If Luca returns.
“When he does, I have to be there,” I insist. “I shouldn’t even be here today. Apparently, I could still be in danger, even though Luca is trying to lead the danger away.”
“But who are you in danger from?” Marianna asks hesitantly. “And why can’t you just go to the polizia?”
I can’t tell her. “I know it sounds strange,” I answer slowly. “But I can’t tell you. I shouldn’t have told you this much.”
Marianne shakes her head. “It’s fine, my dear. I’ll never speak a word of this. I’m only concerned for you. You must promise me that if it becomes too much, you’ll come to me.”
I nod and promise, then decide I have to be getting back.
“Come see me again soon, Eva,” Marianne tells me as she hugs me goodbye. “I’m going to worry about you.”
“Don’t,” I assure her. “I’ll be fine.”
I set off down the beach, watching the sea, clearing my mind of troubling thoughts. What I don’t know, as I walk back to the stone walls of Chessarae, is that it shouldn’t have been Marianne worrying about me.