According to the servants—who only dared whisper about their volatile employer in the deepest recesses of the castle where no one could hear them unless, of course, saidno onewas hiding in the wine cellars to avoid another spectacle at one of Umberto’s endless dinner parties that were always filled with the worst sorts of people—Umberto had trashed half of his personal suite. Twice.
All while shouting Giaco’s name.
This had left Leontina to attempt to solve the mystery of what her notoriously disreputable, scandalous brother could possibly have done to so well and truly get under their father’s skin at last. The gloriously disgraceful Giaco Tavian was renowned far and wide for being the greatest waste of space that had ever assumed human form. That being the polite way to say that he was nothing but a fuck boy.
Leontina had long been under the impression that all her brother ever did was swan about from one exotic location to the next, gathering lovers as he went. It had been a great shock to her when he’d suddenly started dating her former stepsister, Ivy Amis, and then, even more astonishing, had married her. It had taken Leontina longer than she cared to admit to understand that it had been her father pulling those strings. Once she’d realized it, the unlikely romance between the Playboy of Positano—as Giaco had once been called after a particularly ribald holiday there that had resulted in his being escorted out to the city limits—and Saint Ivy of the Orphans—because despite her famous, late, film-star parents, Ivy really and truly did give all her time and money to orphans—made sense.
Umberto loved nothing more than to play puppet master over all and sundry. And especially if that all and/or sundry was Giaco, the son he’d expected would be made in his image who, instead, had made himself the greatest thorn in Umberto’s side.
That was precisely why Leontina had taken matters into her own hands on the occasion of her brother’s deeply surprising and unexpected wedding. It had been her only chance. She had been very clear on that going in. If her plan was to work, it had to work at that wedding. Any of the other ideas she’d come up with would raise her father’s suspicions and likely get her locked away in a tower. The castle had three.
Luckily, that night had gone according to plan. It had gone much better than planned, in fact.
But she really needed tonotthink about that night, not now. Not while her father was staring at her, every line on his overindulged, always outraged body trembling with umbrage. She had to order herself not to let the instant wash of heat she felt when she thought about that night show on her face.
She had done what she needed to do. That was all that mattered. She had created an exit strategy and she’d simply been waiting these last few months—three whole months, to be exact—for some kind of sign. Something to make it clear that she had no choice but to put that exit strategy into immediate action.
Before the reason for the strategy took her over, that was, became impossible to conceal, and created even bigger problems for her.
And as her father stood before her, deliberately looming over her so she had no choice but to sit there quietly and gaze up at him as if in rapt attention, she knew the time had come. Because the men he started naming as his guests for the evening—the pack of would-be suitors handpicked by him because he believed they would give him more power and money, not because he gave one shit how his daughter would fare with any one of them—would have been appalling to her even if she hadn’t already resolved to leave.
The youngest one was at least twice her age, she was fairly certain. And while Leontina had no quarrel with an age gapin theoryas long as everyone involved was of sound mind and capable of consenting to it all, the men her father planned to parade her in front of tonight might as well have been crypt keepers.
She was fairly sure one of them actuallywasa crypt keeper.
But she nodded along as her father talked, as he laid out the benefits of each potential suitor and what there was to be gained from each one of them.
He meantfor him. She knew that, of course. And if she hadn’t known it already, this display from Umberto would have clued her in. If he was aware that she might have feelings about the person she was to marry, or might even have imagined he might solicit her input on this, he gave no sign.
That was just as well, she decided. Because Leontina’s head was spinning. She fought to keep her pulse under control, because she had planned for this,damn it. She’d been planning how she would leave to avoid this very situation all along. But it was one thing toimaginewhat it would be like to finally know she had to leave this place at once—her childhood home, for good or ill, and the last place she’d seen her mother alive—and another to bein that momentat last.
Her father went on and on. He was ranting about what the various suitors brought to the table but he was really talking about himself, of course. And when Umberto was done, when he finally wound himself down into little more than a few growls, he gestured at her impatiently.
“I can only imagine it will take you all afternoon to make yourself look presentable.” When she didn’t respond, he scowled. “But I warn you, Leontina. I will brook no opposition. If you do not have at least one marriage proposal by the end of the night, there will be consequences. Dire consequences. I hope you do not imagine that I am joking.”
That seemed to require a response, so she ducked her head. Meekly, she hoped, though she’d always had trouble with that one. “I understand.”
“I hope so, girl,” Umberto snapped at her. “I hope so.”
But then he left. And, like it or not, that meant it was time.
Leontina blew out a breath as the library doors closed behind him. Then she counted to ten—very slowly—just to make certain that he was really gone. Though he would have no reason to imagine she would do anything but obey him. She’d made certain of that through long years of work to keep herself as much beneath his notice as it was possible to get.
Still, she’d always known that this day would eventually come.
So she allowed herself that one, long breath. Then she launched herself into action, because she really had prepared for this.
She had spent years coming up with various ideas on what constituted the best possible way to escape the castle. She’d had wild plans at first, no doubt cooked up after watching entirely too many summer blockbuster movies from America. Over time, she’d winnowed the plans down from over the top to something reasonable and practical instead.
In the end, she’d decided that simplicity was key.
She padded through the castle, taking the servants’ stairs so that nobody would see her. Not that people really looked at her even if they did see her. Leontina had worked hard to make sure she was the sort of person everyone looked straight through. Still, there was always a chance that with her father on one of his rampages, someone could be hiding the same way she always did—but she didn’t encounter a soul.
Leontina found her way to her rooms and gathered together the very few things she truly considered hers. Her mother’s jewelry in a small velvet pouch. Just the handful of pieces that her mother had worn daily. She tucked them away and found her passport. Her laptop. Her wallet, which always contained a significant amount of cash as well as the single credit card she possessed in her own name. She’d had it since she was eighteen and had watched a documentary about escaping domestic violence. She had always kept the statements and bills digital and it was highly unlikely anyone even knew about it to question its use. Still, she was careful.
She took the time to conceal some items that she didn’t want to leave, but couldn’t take with her right now. Leontina had planned for this, too. She knew the castle better than anyone else, by virtue of hiding in it so often, and it was the work of only a few moments to secrete the things she didn’t want anyone finding while she was gone. Because it was possible she would be gone for a very long time—she understood that. She hid her journals, and her mother’s diaries, and a few other keepsakes in a secret hiding space behind an unremarkable panel in her dressing room.
There was no reason that anyone should push upon it. She knew this to be true because she’d hidden things there for years and no one had so much as disturbed the dust on it.
