Page 27 of The Red Queen

Triumph lit a glow inside Desi, and she smirked at the housekeeper, as if to say,I win, you old bat. Desi had no idea why the woman hated her, but she wasn’t one to pass up a vendetta. She would torture the housekeeper until she could get rid of the woman.

“To where?”

“You’re being moved to an upstairs room,” Mrs. Capelli replied coldly, bending to pick up the T-shirt Desi had worn to bed and folding it.

Desi followed her guards out, thinking Giovanni definitely hadn’t learned his lesson with her if he thought giving her an escort of only two was a good idea. She laughed out loud when four more men joined the two as they traversed the steps from the cellar to the main floor of the house.

Desi felt like a high-value prisoner as three men walked behind her and three in front. Her guards were a stoic, well-trained bunch. It was tempting to kick the shit out of them just to wake them up, but she didn’t want Giovanni to kill more of his people if they tried to defend themselves.

Not that she cared about their lives, but so long as she was accepting Giovanni’s protection, she wanted to know the mansion was well protected. She’d made enemies in her career as Nico Garza’s second and she’d made even more enemies after his death. She was walking around with a target on her back, though Italy was as good a place as any for her to hole up. She wasn’t well known here, at least not by sight, even if her reputation preceded her.

Desi glanced around when they reached the main floor, looking for Giovanni, but he was nowhere in sight.

“Here, Signora.” One man waved toward the grand staircase leading to the top floor of the house.

Desi didn’t correct the man. She had never been married and was not yet a Signora, but she would be soon. She would have to ask Giovanni when the wedding was supposed to take place. It was an odd thing to think about. She’d been with Nico for years, and the word ‘marriage’ had never entered their conversation. Yet, she’d known Giovanni less than two weeks and the man intended to marry her, with or without her consent. She felt disconnected from the idea of marriage. It was a step in the direction of survival, that was all.

Giovanni was a powerful man, an intriguing man. She could do much worse.

“Signora.” The same guard who had spoken before stepped forward and opened a door, gesturing inside. He bowed his head respectfully as Desi passed him.

She tried to hide her jaw-dropping surprise as she entered bedroom paradise. Her suite of rooms in Nico’s Mexican hacienda had been lush, but this… this was beyond anything she could have imagined.

Giovanni’s house had a gothic, unused feel to it. Though richly decorated and opulent, the mansion had a heavy atmosphere, but this room was different. A four-poster Queen Anne bed took up a portion of the room. It was raised up on some steps and had gold bed-hangings, a thick golden quilt and at least half a dozen pillows. A gold-coloured rug shot through with red weaving covered most of the hardwood floor.

A makeup table with an ornamental mirror was against one wall, while a wardrobe and closet were against the other. She opened a door and checked the ensuite washroom. It was as beautifully decorated as the bedroom, with golden fixtures and a step-in shower as well as a large free-standing tub.

A vase filled with red roses sat on the vanity giving the room a pleasant flowery fragrance.

She left the washroom and headed for a set of French doors leading out onto the balcony. Through the panes of glass, she could see a spectacular view of fields, ocean, and vines.

Assuming Giovanni owned the land his mansion stood on, he also owned a sprawling vineyard. She wondered if he produced the wine at the mansion or somewhere else. She would have to ask him for a tour.

When she tried the doors, they refused to open. She rattled them, hoping they were stuck. They weren’t. She searched for the bolt but found only a slot for a key.

She turned to her escort with a raised brow.

He cleared his throat. “Signore Savino has the key to that door, Signora.”

Desi could read between the lines. Being moved from the cellar to the top floor of the house did not mean she was trusted. She would have to earn it. Or manipulate her way into more freedom, whichever came first.

She turned to look more closely at the bodyguard. She’d seen him before.

“What’s your name?”

“Vitto.” He lifted his eyes for a moment to meet hers before dropping them again.

“You were at the club, weren’t you?” she asked curiously.

“Si,” he admitted. “And my brother. You stabbed him through the hand.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry, but thought it was the best thing to say in case this guy was looking for some familial vengeance.

He shrugged. “Mani is an asshole.”

Desi laughed. “Well, now he’s an asshole who’s going to have to work on his aim. I stabbed him through his dominant hand.”

“How do you know?” Vitto asked curiously.

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