Page 139 of Peasants and Kings
I didn’t even hear her footsteps as she strode away.
Luca stood near me with his hands in his trouser pockets.
“I’d like to be alone,” I said, turning my back to him and focusing on the fountain.
The artist had taken great creative liberty with this version, because there was no fear or revulsion on Proserpina’s face. In fact, the look she gave Pluto was nothing short of carnal.
Luca didn’t bow to my demand. Instead, he took a seat next to me on the bench. “What did Gisella say to you?”
“She brought me food and said she was sorry about my mother.” I picked up a seasoned olive and placed it in my mouth.
“Is that all?”
I chewed and removed the olive pit before answering. “Yes, that’s all.” I looked at him and frowned. What was he driving at? Did he suspect that Gisella had warned me about Raphael?
She hadn’t needed to warn me. My mother had told me what the Foscari were capable of—murdering my father in cold blood, hunting her tirelessly for years.
How had she found the strength to go on? All she had was Sister Agatha, and then it was just her, alone in the world. A mother with nothing more than the determination to protect her child.
I had Hadrian. I just had to wait. I could withstand anything, knowing he would come for me.
“Your fiancé will arrive tomorrow,” Luca announced.
I stood up from the bench and flung my half-eaten plate of food into the fountain.
Chapter Thirty
After my reprieve in the gardens, I went back to my bedroom, refusing to spend any more time in my family’s presence. A servant brought me dinner on a tray, but I didn’t touch it.
I went to bed, hugging a pillow to me and crying. Deep, bone wrenching sobs. I had only been on my own for one day and already I felt myself breaking.
I needed Hadrian. I needed his arms around me, his strength, his power. I needed him to sweep me away from this horrible nightmare that had become my reality.
Sometime around dawn, I finally fell into a fitful sleep, only to be awakened a few minutes later by a female servant bringing me a breakfast tray. Even though I felt nauseous, I managed to choke down a homemade chocolate-filledsfogliatella.
I decided to sit and have tea on the balcony and try to collect my thoughts when Luca entered my bedroom without bothering to knock.
I glared at him. “There’s this thing called privacy. You can’t just barge in here like that.”
“You’re not afforded privacy anymore,” he stated.
“I hate you,” I seethed, ready to chuck the delicate china teacup at him.
“You’ve made that clear.” He straightened his tie. “Raphael Foscari will be here within the hour. I suggest you make yourself presentable.”
“Or what? He’ll send me back to the factory and ask for a new Moretti brood mare?”
His jaw tightened. “He’s graciously decided to marry you despite the fact that you’re not a virgin.”
“How wonderful for me.” I took a sip of my tea, wishing it didn’t taste so bitter on my tongue.
Luca stalked toward me and in spite of my temper, I had to stop the tremble of fear that washed through me. My anxiety was for naught though, because all he did was reach out to gently cup my chin and force my face up to his for examination.
“You didn’t sleep,” he stated. “And your eyes are bloodshot.”
I batted his hand away. “It’s hard to let my guard down in a prison. Doesn’t matter how nice the mattress is.”
“One hour,” he reminded me, taking a step toward the door. “Don’t keep him waiting. He won’t like it.”
