Page 17 of Wanton

And then I see him.

Luca.

He's laid out in the middle of the street outside my father's house, lifeless and still. Covered in blood. A gun rests beside his hand. The other is outstretched as if reaching for me.

No, Luca. No.

I gasp and rush forward, racing as fast as I can to reach him. Someone grabs me before I can, holding me back.

I scream…and sit bolt upright in the bed, gasping for breath. Shadows overtake the room, darkening the corners. A pile of shopping bags sit just inside the bedroom door. I've been sleeping for hours.

"Merda," I whisper, pressing the heels of my hands to my eyes as if that will erase the awful images hovering behind them. It doesn't. I still see him, his face pale. His chest not moving. My own aches in protest, my stomach clenching.

It was just a dream. And yet…it wasn't. It's one possible outcome of whatever decision I make.

Two roads diverged in a mansion….

I drag myself from the bed and stumble to the bathroom to take care of business and splash water on my face. Once that's done, I try the bedroom door. To my surprise, it's unlocked. I poke my head out.

"Miss Genovese."

I jump a foot into the air, whipping my head around to face the giant standing in the shadows across the hall. He blends with the dark wood of the wall, his black suit making him almost invisible. Has he been there all day?

Who am I kidding? Of course he has.

Luca wouldn't leave me here alone, especially after I tried to stab him with a fork this morning.

"Who are you?" I ask, eyeing the giant warily. He's been eating his Wheaties because he's massive. His expression is carved from granite, his eyes dark.

"Alessio Cascieri. Luca asked me to protect you."

"Protect me or babysit me?"

"Protect."

"Then I'd like to go home, please."

A hint of a smile tugs at his lips. "And babysit."

I nod, satisfied with his answer. At least he's honest about his priorities. "And where is Luca?"

"Out."

I know enough to know that's the only explanation I'll be getting from this man. Their vows are inviolable. Even if I tortured him, he wouldn't tell me anything. Luckily for him, I'm not in a torturing people kind of mood. "Can you take me to the kitchen, please? I'd like to find something to eat."

He jerks his head in a nod and steps away from the wall.

"Um, one moment, please." I quickly slip back into the bedroom and close the door, kneeling to rummage through the bags. They're full of clothes. I don't even want to know how Luca knew my size, but nearly everything will fit me except the shirts. They're all too small. It had to have cost him a fortune. I pick out a pair of lacy panties and buttery soft yoga pants and slip them on before grabbing a bra. I strip out of Luca's shirt, put the bra on, and then pull his t-shirt back on over my head, tying it up around my waist again.

"I'm ready," I tell Alessio less than a minute later, stepping back out of the bedroom.

He leads me down the hallway. Unlike my father's house, Luca's isn't built like a museum to wealth. It's timeless and beautiful. Dark wood panels line the walls, with ornately carved banisters and balustrades. Instead of a chandelier, a crystal dome over the staircase floods the foyer with natural light.

We pass through the living room, decorated more for comfort than to impress. A large fireplace and sectional dominate the room, with bookcases lining one wall. Massive doors lead out to a patio and a rolling green lawn.

"Kitchen," Alessio says, standing to the side to let me pass.

I step inside and then stop to stare. The entire kitchen is made from stone, with a cobblestone floor and gorgeous dark wood cabinets. Appliances rest in arched alcoves. Windows look out over the lawn. It's breathtaking, like stepping straight into Tuscany.