Page 65 of Winter
He had to wait a couple of hours before he saw her, and when he did, he almost laughed out loud. She was the most similar yet. She had Inca’s soft features, sweet smile, and long, dark hair. He took her as she passed the alleyway where he was hidden, and he smothered her until she lost consciousness. He ripped her uniform open, and because she was already unconscious, he started by carving Inca’s name on her stomach, gouging the words deep into his victim’s lovely skin.
He had already decided that he couldn’t wait much longer. Inca would die soon.Very soon.She would bleed to death slowly from the damage his knife would inflict on her glorious body. He would make sure she suffered every moment and felt every inch of the knife that would tear through her tender flesh over and over.
Her name carved, blood dripping, he waited for this girl to come around and, when she did, her eyes widened in terror, the pain hit, and she opened her mouth to scream as he plunged his knife deep into her abdomen.
When she was dead—and she died disappointingly quickly—he sucked in a few deep breaths, smelling the salty rust stink of blood.
Inca ... I’m coming for you.
He closed his eyes and thought about her body, the honey-skin ... he would fuck her before she died, dominate her body completely. She would beg for her life, but he would not listen.
Soon, Inca, soon.
Inca was right, of course. The bubble did burst, and spectacularly so. A week later, the snow had almost completely disappeared, and the mansion staff came back to work. They would find no trace of the debauchery that had preoccupied its three occupants for the last week. Tommaso had business in the city one day and, try as they might, Inca and Raffaelo could not find a moment to themselves as the house filled with trades people and staff.
Raff looked at her regretfully as yet another almost-tryst was foiled by the chef asking him when they would like dinner served. Raff stole a kiss as the chef turned her back and Inca grinned.
Raff nuzzled her nose.
“Wait until we are in Italy—we need not pretend there,mio caro.”
Two days after the snow melted, Tommaso drove Inca to her parent’s house, and Nancy hugged her daughter tightly, smiling at Tommaso.
“Thank you for looking after her.”
“Have you been okay?” Inca looked at her mother’s wan face, but Nancy nodded.
“It’s just a cold. Don’t worry; your father’s been caring for me. Look, have you been into town? Seen Olly?”
Inca looked surprised. “No, why?”
Nancy sighed. “You’d better come and sit, and I’ll call him. He should be the one to tell you. He has some questions.”
She looked at Tommaso. “Dear, would you mind leaving Inca with us?”
Tommaso nodded, his eyes curious. “Of course.”
Inca saw him to the door. “I’ll tell you what’s going on later,” she said in a low voice, kissing him goodbye.
When he’d gone, they waited for Olly. Inca tried to quiz Nancy, but her mother wouldn’t tell her what was going on. Inca realized Nancy’s wan face must have something to do with what Olly had to tell her. Somehow Inca knew she wouldn’t like whatever he had to say. She suddenly felt anxious.
“Mind if I do some baking? It always relaxes me, and I have a feeling I’ll need it.”
Nancy nodded, her eyes sympathetic. “Go ahead.”
Inca went into the kitchen and began to pull together the ingredients for muffins. She had the feeling her bubble of happiness was about to be pricked and burst.
Olly openedthe door to the kitchen and walked in, closing it behind him. Inca came out from the pantry and stopped when she saw him. A flash of distress crossed her face when she saw his grim expression.
“Hi.” She looked away from him, grabbing a mixing bowl and dumping some flour into it. Olly leaned back against the door.
“I’ve got to talk to you.”
“Okay.
“About Tommaso Winter.”
She stiffened. “What about him?”
