“I do, indeed. In two days, a masquerade ball will take place, an annual event, highly exclusive. Invitations are coveted, but few are chosen. My closest friends and I? Always welcome. Money and power ensure that.” A secretive smile curled his lips.
My pulse quickened. “You can introduce me to Raul Costa?”
“Naturally,” he said with a languid wave of his hand. “You’ll love it. The grandest of times, I assure you. The wealthiest of the wealthy attend. And the filthiest things happen there. It is a party like no other.”
“So, Costa—does he flaunt his wealth? Use it to climb the social ladder?”
Montego let out an elegant scoff. “He likes to think he’s the richest man in Florence. I, of course, have far more, but who’s counting?” He sniffed, clearly enjoying himself. “It’s all his father’s money anyway. When the old man died, he left everything to Raul, with the clause that he should care for his mother as long as she lived. Poor old dear is still kicking. Not that Raul lifts a finger on her behalf.”
Montego leaned in slightly, watching me closely. “So… will you join me?”
I hesitated, the memory of lavish Roman feasts and blood-soaked arenas flashing through my mind. I had attended many grand events before, but more often than not, I had been the entertainment, forced to fight to the death for the amusement of others.
“I accept your invitation,” I said formally.
Montego grinned. “Good.” He drained his glass and set it down with a satisfied clink. “Then we shall prepare your disguise. No one arrives at the ball as themselves. Hopefully, you can get what you need from Raul.”
I hoped so, too.
Because if I didn’t, I had no idea how I would ever find my way back to my lovely wife.
Chapter 16
Olivia
Utterly disoriented, I bolted upright as if emerging from a coma, my heart hammering against my ribs. My breath came in ragged gasps as I scanned my surroundings, trying to understand where I was.
The walls were covered in gilded wallpaper adorned with an intricate fleur-de-lis pattern. The four-poster bed I sat in gleamed with gold accents, its frame wrapped in deep royal blue velvet—the same fabric draping the pulled-back curtains that surrounded me. Across from the bed stood heavy, ornately carved furniture flanking a window concealed by even more velvet.
I swallowed hard. This was a palace.
And I had no memory—absolutely none—of how I got here.
Throwing back the covers, I swung my legs over the side of the bed, only to find myself dressed in a long white muslin nightgown.
Holy hell, who dressed me?
My feet were bare. There was no sign of the clothes I had worn yesterday—if that moment even existed. The dissonance in my mind was suffocating.
Had I lost my grip on reality? Was this some warped consequence of time travel?
My fingers reached out instinctively, steadying myself against one of the bedframe’s carved columns. My gaze trailed down to the base of the column—massive paws, expertly engraved into the wood like the feet of a lion.
A shiver rolledthrough me.
Pushing off the bed, I staggered forward, my steps unsteady against the white tiles patterned with blue squares, each lined in gold and inscribed with an elegant M.
Who did that letter belong to?
My breath hitched as I turned toward the massive door at the far side of the room. The golden doorknob gleamed under the soft glow of candlelight.
Did I dare open it?
I hesitated, fingers curling around the cold brass handle, bracing myself for whatever lay beyond.
I turned it.
The door creaked open, revealing a long, dimly lit hallway. The walls were adorned with intricate wallpaper, aged paintings staring down at me from gilded frames as if judging my presence. An expensive-looking rug stretched along the corridor, its plush fibers swallowing the sound of my tentative footsteps. An ornate staircase spiraled downward at the far end, disappearing into the unknown.
