Page 2 of Under Her Skin
Arturo threw back the rest of his Scotch, his gaze returning to the almost empty villa across the lake:Villa Patrizzithat he owned 99 percent of right now. Tomorrow, it would belong to himentirely.
He couldn’twait.
Hero Donati lookedaround the tiny apartment. She had persuaded the realtor to let her in, even this late at night, so she could be prepared for tomorrow. This place was perfect: tiny, compact, but with a balcony that looked out over the lake where she could sit and sketch or read or just…be.
Peace. Serenity. How often she had wished for that feeling over the past two years. Here, she could imagine regaining at least some ofit.
Back at her hotel, she checked her bank account for the hundredth time, making sure the money was transferred and ready for the auction tomorrow, then she went to soak in the tub. She wound her long, dark hair up onto her head.I really ought to get this cut, she thought. Her hair hung down past her waist now; she hadn’t been to a hairdresser since she didn’t know how long. She risked a glance in the mirror, but then looked away again. Her dark eyes still had that haunted look she had grown accustomed to, but she could no longer bear to look at herself forlong.
Hero Donati had been adopted at birth by an Italian-American businessman and his wife who already had one daughter, Imelda. Hero’s birth mother had been a young Indian student at one of Milan’s colleges who had become pregnant by her Italian lover and had given her child up for adoption, unable to care for the baby herself. From her mother, Hero had inherited a dark beauty—a beacon for so much male attention that Hero learned to deliberately downplay her appearance. She became intentionally tomboyish, wore thick-rimmed spectacles, and had remained resolutely single until she metTom.
Tom, with his merry grey eyes and blonde hair, hadn’t put the moves on her at all. Instead, they routinely sat together in classes at their college in Chicago and made fun of all the rich kids. Tom, working class from Wisconsin, had become her best friend, and then one night, her lover. They married the day after graduation, and Beth had been born a year later, the family settling inChicago.
Hero had become a mother and wife, and to her shock, she loved it. Hero worked on her doctorate while raising Beth, and she and Tom had been blissfully happy together; even Hero’s sometimes-fraught relationship with her adoptive family had improved. Beth was a radiant ball of utter joy and love, and even Hero’s sister Imelda, who didn’t have a maternal bone in her body, adored the younggirl.
Three years, four months, and six days later, it all came to a brutal end. The family had been driving to Wisconsin to spend Christmas with Tom’s family when a drunken driver slammed into their Volvo at high speed. Though three-year-old Beth was killed instantly, Tom lingered in a coma until pronounced brain-dead on day five. His parents had made the decision to turn off his life-support, because Hero couldn’t; she was also in a coma and not expected tosurvive.
When she woke three months later, she wished she hadn’t. Not one word could describe the depth of her heartbreak. Both her worried parents and Tom’s bereaved parents tried to reach her, but no one could. On her behalf, they sued the drunk driver’s employers and secured Hero a settlement just shy of eleven million dollars, but even so, Hero couldn’t even begin to think about startingagain.
For months, she stayed at home in the apartment she had shared with her husband and daughter and let life go on without her. Eventually, it took two incidents to shake her out of thefugue.
The first episode still seems unbelievable to Hero. One night, rather than sit home wrapped in Tom’s sweater with Beth’s favourite ‘blankie’ nuzzled next to her face, something snapped inside Hero. She put on her tightest dress and all her makeup and went out to a nightclub in the city. Drinking herself into a manic mood, dancing, making out with strangers, she fully intended to fuck someone just to numb the pain, but she chose wrong—so, so wrong. As soon as the man got her into his car, he turned violent, and Hero fought for her life, quickly escaping only after punching her attacker hard in theballs.
She caught a cab home, and inside her apartment, Hero spent the rest of the night alternating between sobbing andscreaming.
One of her neighbors had called Imelda. “I think Hero needsyou.”
Imelda, who had never been an overly warm person, stripped Hero off and put her in the shower. Feeding her oatmeal, strong coffee, and sleeping pills, she put her adoptive sister to bed and stayed with her while she slept itoff.
The next day, Hero dutifully listened to Imelda’s harsh pep talk. Imelda didn’t mince her words. “I don’t care what you do, Hero, but do something. Go off on a world trek, open an art gallery, go teach in China. But you need to snap out of this. Tom and Beth aredead.”
Hero had turned on her sister. “Do you think I’ve forgotten, Melly? Iknowthey’re fucking dead! I wish I were, too.Jesus.”
Imelda regarded her coolly. “Then do it. Kill yourself. Be that selfish. Mom and Dad need that on top of losing Beth. Doit.”
Hero had stared at her sister, dumbfounded. She knew Melly was just trying to shock her out her funk, but at that moment, she hated her sister. Hated. “I have to get out of this damncountry.”
“Good. Do it. Bye, now.” Imelda had walked out, calling back over her shoulder. “And if I see you again, it’ll be toosoon.”
Fuckingbitch.
Hero was angry now, but her anger had become a cold, silent thing that ate away at her soul. She would escape. She would go back to Italy; she still held citizenship there, after all. Maybe she would try and find her mother or her father—her birth parents. Maybe. She just knew she couldn’t stay in Chicago a momentlonger.
Banishing those thoughts of the past as far as she ever managed to, Hero climbed out of the tub and headed to bed. Tomorrow she would bid for that small apartment in the Villa Patrizzi. She would win it. And then she would move into it. And maybe. Maybe.Maybethen she could restart herlife.
ChapterTwo
The great terrace of the Villa D’Este in Cernobbio was packed with Lake Como’s elite: the women gorgeous, the men handsome in their designer suits, as they drifted around, champagne in hand, socializing before the auctionbegan.
There was only one lot in this auction and as Arturo arrived, he went to find the auctioneer and to shake his hand. “I’m looking forward to this,Claudio.”
The older man nodded. “It certainly has the feel of an event, Signore Bachi. I have a feeling you will be a very happy man by the end oftoday.”
As Arturo started toward Peter, who he could see across the room, he was frequently stopped by both attractive women and admiring men, all wanting a few moments of his coveted attention. By the time he finally reached Peter, who was rolling his eyes and smirking, Arturo’s confidence was sky-high.
“Peter, my friend, this is a goodday.”
“Cautious optimism, Turo,” Peter said, his Canadian stoicism at full power. Arturo grinned at hisfriend.
