Luca’s POV
The house was too large for noise to stay in one place.
It traveled, climbed the stairs and followed me.
I walked from one end of the sitting room to the other with a glass in my hand, the ice inside it knocking against the sides every time I turned too sharply. I told myself I was not drinking. I told myself I was thinking. The liquid just happened to disappear each time I swallowed.
The curtains were half drawn. Outside, the crowd had thinned but not vanished. Their earlier chants still echoed in my head like someone had carved them into the walls.
Ava stood near the piano, watching me the way someone watches a dog they are not sure will bite.
“Luca,” she said softly, folding her arms as if she were cold. “You should sit down.”
I stopped pacing and looked at her slowly.
