TEDDY
I expectAlessandro to push me off him as soon as Jack has gone, but he doesn’t. In fact, his hand stays right where it is, tucked between my thighs. If it moves just half an inch higher…
“What was that all about?” he asks, and his hand closes harder on my thigh, a firm grip of warning. “How do you know Jacopo?”
I squirm around, but his hand doesn’t go any higher. “I go to the parties at Miller’s house. He’s a friend of mine. And I…I liked knowing that I was close to people who were close to you.”
Alessandro’s dark eyes search my face, looking for a lie. But he won’t find one. “That traitor Jacopo is not close to me,” he says at last.
“Traitor? What did he do?”
“There are doors in this house that are closed to you, little mouse. That particular door is one of them.” He stands, depositing me on my feet, and looks down at me with disapproval. “You shouldn’t be wandering around.”
I drop my eyes. “You said I still could.”
“I meant…” He tips my chin up so I have to look at him. “I meant that you should be resting. You came close to death this morning.”
“But you saved me.”
His face contorts, just for a moment, so fast I wonder if I imagined it. “I set you up,” he corrects me.
I take a deep breath. This is actually what I came here to tell him. “Next time, if you want me to get something out of Julian, you can just ask me. I would do anything for you, Alessandro. Even go down to those cells again.”
He blinks a few times before he says, “I promised you I would not put you down there again. Even of your own volition. Nothing good will come of it. And Teddy…”
“Yes?”
Alessandro reaches out, strokes a knuckle down my cheek. “I’m sorry I used you. I will be honest with you in the future.”
I smile. “Okay.”
“But tonight—” Regret shines in his eyes. “Tonight, I must ask you to keep up the same charade you performed so beautifully for Jacopo just now.”
“Charade?” I don’t understand what he means.
“Little mouse,” Alessandro says gently, “it may seem like you are a guest here, but neither of us should forget the reality.”
He touches my face again in a gesture of goodbye, and then he leaves me standing there, my heart beating unpleasantly hard and fast.
From the foyer, I hear the front door open and close again.
* * *
Alessandro stays out again for the rest of the day.
I wander around again today, feeling a little braver at trying closed doors. Most of the unlocked rooms are guest bedrooms or extra bathrooms, but there are two areas that are locked, and therefore off-limits. One downstairs area, I assume, must lead to Ciro Castellani’s personal wing. The other area is upstairs, and, based on the way Pedretti the security guard appears as soon as I touch the door, is probably where Julian Castellani’s rooms are situated.
“No go, little guy,” Pedretti calls down the corridor.
“I already figured that out,” I tell him. But he still watches me walk back past him and down the hallway until I turn a corner.
At lunch time, I head to the kitchen myself, wondering if I could just make myself something to eat. I feel weird having my food made for me all the time. When I find the kitchen, it’s deserted but warm, the ovens on, and whatever is cooking smells delicious. But there’s no plain white bread, and that’s all I feel like.
There’s a door at the other end of the room—maybe a pantry? But as soon as I go through, I stop dead.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”
“No bother, sir, no bother at all.” Wilson is sitting at a thick-topped table, having a cup of tea and a few cookies on a plate. He’s holding an old photograph, but he puts it down and gets to his feet as soon as I come in. “Did you need something, sir?”
