Page 69 of Just for a Taste

He dropped his suitcase beside the door, got on his knees, and shoved aside the table. It overturned with pathetic ease, as did the chairs. I scampered back. “What are you—”

He threw aside the rug, revealing a large trapdoor. After entering a few numbers on yet another lock flush with the floor, it opened with a satisfyingpop.

Zeno grinned up at me and gestured to the open door with a flourish of his hand. “Signorina, your destination awaits.”

“Holy shit.”

I peered down into the door, mouth agape. It was deep and dark, a pit of blackness only a bit larger than me, carved cleanly into limestone. A single ladder, old yet sturdy, was propped against the side, and it wasn’t until Zeno held the lantern over it that I could even see its bottom about twenty feet down.

Despite growing up in the mountains, I was never good with heights, so I only felt reassured enough to enter when Zeno gave me an approving nod upon touching the ladder.

“I’ll be right behind you,” he said.

I gulped, ducked beneath the lantern, and descended. It was a surprisingly quick trip to the bottom

When my feet touched the ground, my lantern and concern were both rendered unnecessary. Dozens of ceiling lights flickered on, revealing a long, perfectly symmetrical tunnel, complete with decoratively carved reinforcements. The floor itself was embossed in a simple yet meticulously laid pattern; the curved walls were painted. But questions remained, as the tunnel ended in a solid wall.

Zeno scaled the ladder quickly and hopped to my side. After giving my shoulder a squeeze, he walked in front of me, staring at the ceiling.

“One, two, three . . .”

Midway down the hall and midway through the twenties, he stopped and crouched. He trailed his finger along an unseen line on the wall, then pressed an inconspicuous divot.

With a hiss, a previously unseen entrance propped open.

Zeno gestured for me to follow him across the threshold.

I had come to know Italian wealth over the past several months—its good, its bad, and most of all, its beauty. There was the showy decor of houses that doubled as public exhibits, the celestial buildings of religious devotion, and now this: rustic luxury.

We entered a living room covered in countless exotic furs, mahogany wood, and plenty of landscape paintings. There was an enormous marble fireplace opposite a plush couch. For a moment, I wondered if it was for show, considering our underground dwelling, but the fine layer of soot outlining the stone proved otherwise.

Zeno leaned against the doorframe, his arm curved around its surface.

“There were fears among the Medici circa the nineteenth century that Italy may follow in the steps of France and have her own Robespierre emerge from the woodwork, hence the acquisition of this place.” He gestured toward a chandelier in the middle of the ceiling. “I suppose they could have found a place to hidewithoutspending millions to excavate, but I doubt they could have survived without a wine cellar or fine decor. Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

I peered around and discovered two additional doors, both with their own locks. I neared one and could open it with relative ease, as the padlocks were already unlocked. The door creaked open, revealing yet another long hallway.

“How big is this place?” I asked, closing it.

“I would not be able to attest to that. I left the room to your left only on a few occasions during my stay. In truth, I know very little about this residence.”

I looked at the door of the aforementioned room and noted that it differed from the others—scratched, with chipped paint. I fought the urge to look inside, somehow knowing it wouldn’t be right to do so in his presence.

“I’m heading out,” Zeno said.

“Huh?” My eyes fell to the floor. I mumbled, “Oh, you’re leaving.”

“I have some loose ends to tie up. I need to send off a few people to town for clothes, food—”

“By food, you mean chocolate,” I cut in.

“Chocolateandwine, I’ll have you know,” he teased. “Regardless, I’ll be back in a few hours.” Though obscured by his mask, I could sense Zeno wore that crooked, bemused smirk of his. “Is that disappointmentI see on your face?”

I felt my cheeks grow hot and put my hands on my hips. “So what if it is?”

“Careful, Cora. I might get an even bigger head than I already have.”

I masked a smile with a huff. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you humble.”

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