SALVAGE PRIDE

7

I flash her an encouraging smile and signal for her to lead the way. We used to play hide-and-seek with Zeno and his brother, Nevio, at Hardwick when we were kids, so I know the house well. Not much has changed within these stately walls, even though it’s been years since I’ve stepped foot inside. Any uncertainty I feel is a matter of me being an outsider rather than an issue of familiarity with the floor plan. If we should run across the new master of the house, he will most certainly deem my presence an intrusion. He made that clear years ago.

As luck would have it, we make it to our destination without encountering a soul. Our first bedroom contains a hand-carved poster bed and other furnishings either original to the house or expert reproductions. There’s even an ornate vanity decorated with a set of colored glass perfume bottles. The attached antique mirror is mottled with webbing and flecks of gold—clearly kept for its aesthetic rather than function. The drapes are a heavy tapestry material held back by two giant tassels and match the blue and gold rug beneath the bed. The room is exquisite, if not a tad stuffy from being closed off for so long. If it wasn’t for the modern alarm clock on the nightstand, I could swear that I had stumbled onto the set of Downton Abbey or some BBC murder mystery show.

“Something is comforting about a house that’s been around for so long, as though it's impervious to the changing world around it. Maybe that’s why De Rossi moved here from the city—to find a sanctuary for his family,” I muse.

“I’m pretty sure it has more to do with the other high-profile residents in the area, but that could have played a part.” He had frequently schmoozed with his fellow landowners over the years. I wasn’t sure what he did in his role as Giordano underboss, but he was friends with people in high places.

I grab a corner of the comforter and peel it back, mirroring Gia’s movements on the opposite side of the bed. “Whatever the reason, I’m glad the family is staying. I’m not sure what would happen to Mom and Dad if they had to leave. I doubt they could afford to be unemployed for long.” Gia is suspiciously quiet after my comment.

I narrow my eyes and study her. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Nothing, exactly. I’ve just had an odd feeling lately. Mom bought several things a while back like a Louis Vuitton bag—things she has no business buying. Then all of a sudden, the items started disappearing. I’m guessing she’s selling them, but I’m not sure why, and I’m afraid to ask.” “That sounds about right,” I grumble.

We put fresh sheets on the bed, replace the comforter and pillows, then survey the room for any other areas that need attention. Once satisfied with the room, we step across the hall to a more feminine bedroom overlooking the lake behind the house. After briefly losing myself in the view, I join Gia at the bed. We begin our process over again, but this time, when we unfold the new sheet, it’s obvious Laney has accidentally given us a king-sized set.

“You run down and grab some queen sheets while I touch up the room,” Gia instructed. “The inside of these sconces look like they haven’t been dusted in ages.” She scowls at the decorative glass fixtures on either side of the arching headboard.

“Okay, I’ll be right back.” I slip from the room and make my way down the long corridor to the grand stairwell in the center of the house. I take my time now that I’m alone, perusing each piece of artwork and refreshing my memory on the many wonders of the house. I have so many cherished memories of this place from my early years, though each leaves a bittersweet aftertaste when I think of how it all ended. I don’t dwell on those memories. In fact, I try not to think of them at all. Some things are better left in the past.

I feel like a ghost passing silently down the halls of Hardwick. I conveniently chose to wear sneakers for my trip out of the city, which is a relief. Anything but rubber soles or the softest of Italian leather would resound throughout the marble entry. I am nearly silent in my descent of the stairs. On the ground level, I curve back behind the stairwell and toward the kitchen on the ground floor. I quickly grab two more stacks of sheets in the linen closet, both set on a shelf labeled queen. When I retrace my route back toward the stairs and the front of the house, the sound of voices carries down the hallway and slows my steps.

Not just any voices. Zeno’s baritone rumble.

Soundlessly, I inch forward until I am beneath the stairs, only a dozen feet or so from where Zeno is sending off Carter and Cora at the front door. My heart flutters up into my throat at the knowledge he wouldn’t want me here. That I am essentially spying on him.

“Not an intrusion at all. I always appreciate a visit from you both.” He speaks with more warmth than I am used to hearing from him, which denotes a genuine affection—something I wasn’t sure he was capable of at this stage in his life.

“I hope you know that we’re always here for you, Z. Reach out anytime.” Cora’s saccharine voice claws at my ears until my molars ache. Not an hour before, she had no patience for Gia and me but is now bending over backward for her fellow neighbor.

“I appreciate that, Cora. I’m confident my staff has everything under control.”

“Yes,” Carter agrees. “I saw Gia on our way in with her sister who lives in the city. They’re a lovely family. Always willing to step up and lend a hand.”

Zeno clears his throat, and I strain to catch every word of what he might say about my family. About me. I am shamelessly eavesdropping, but I don’t care. Now that they are talking about us, I have to know what he’ll say.

“Gia is certainly one of a kind. It’s a shame everyone isn’t as genuine and honorable.”

Carter chuckles awkwardly. “Well, I can’t say that I know Luisa well, but in the few minutes we spoke, she seemed genuine enough.”