Page 105 of Brutal Heir

I stared in wonder at the stunning frescoes, intricate marble floor, ornate ceiling, and stained glass windows. I’d stepped back in time to the Renaissance. Two four-foot-tall globes dominated the center of the room, one terrestrial, the other celestial.

Then the meaning of what Sebastian had said caught my attention. “Your favorite hall? How many are there?”

“Twelve…on this floor.”

He guided me through the hall into another and yet another, each filled with Italian masterpieces of art, sculpture, and tapestries. They depicted everything from the Madonna and Child to David and Bathsheba to the Ark of the Covenant.

Sebastian gestured to a fresco depicting the Garden of Eden. “Most of the art is original to the palazzo’s first owner, a cardinal from the sixteenth century.”

I rubbed my upper arms, hugging myself to ward off a chill. “That explains the fun Borgia-vibe.”

He gestured to a stained glass window. “You can’t see it in the dark, but there is a large courtyard filled with citrus and olive trees, as well as several pleasant fountains and sculptures, especially in the nymph grotto.”

What in the everlasting fuck is a nymph grotto?

I forced a smile. “Well, I’m certainly glad you finally mentioned the nymph grotto, or I would have demanded you take me straight back to the DoubleTree.”

That comment earned me the ghost of a smile. So he was human after all…well almost.

After passing a dining room large enough to seat at least fifty people at its long, polished oak table, I asked, “Does the rest of your family live here with you?”

“I live alone in the main house,” he replied. “There is an addition to the primary building that has five separate apartments where my brother and sister occasionally stay.”

Clasping my hands together to hide my nervousness, I asked, “Is that where I’ll be staying?”

“No. You will have a bedroom in the main building. Here with me.”

I twisted the rose-gold rings on my fingers. “But surely if⁠—”

“It is not up for discussion, Sabrina.” His words came tight and strained as the hand at his side flexed open, then closed into a fist.

At this point, I would have settled for a sofa in the lobby of a hotel over staying in this ancient fortress all alone with Sebastian.

“I will give you a fuller tour another time. For now, I think it best to show you to your room so you can rest.”

He took me up another, only slightly smaller, stone staircase to the main floor and down a tapestry-lined corridor.

By now, I was hopelessly lost. I’d tried to count the turns, the doors, anything—but everything blurred together. The air colder somehow, the silence heavier. My pulse kicked up.

No one knew I was in Italy, let alone here with Sebastian Diamanti.

I could disappear behind these harsh walls, and no one would ever hear from me again.

I was overreacting.

Hadn’t I just had my photograph taken with Sebastian by a small horde of paparazzi?

That alone would be evidence of my arrival in Italy. Of course, he had said he controlled the press in this country. It would probably be a small matter to have those photos buried.

Then there were the rumors about his mafia connections…

This was ridiculous.

I was acting like Catherine Morland from Northanger Abbey, imagining this beautiful palazzo as a gothic fortress steeped in sinister shadows, its owner guilty of dark, nefarious deeds. Still, just in case, the moment I was alone, I would text some friends where I was.

And then there was my mother. I still hadn’t decided if I was going to tell her I was in Italy or perhaps lie and claim I was still in Paris. What would be the harm in letting her believe that, at least for the next month?

There didn’t seem much point in enduring her tantrums and lectures if I ended up not taking the job at the House of Diamanti after the trial period.