I folded the paper and tucked it into the pocket of the seat in front of me. I closed my eyes. I felt my bodyguard’s gaze on me, but I ignored him as best as I could.
With a three-hour delay in Rome, by the time we arrived in New Jersey and then drove the hour and a half to Salvatore’s home in Saddle River, I was exhausted. Evening fell, and it took an effort to keep my eyes open, to take in the surroundings of my new home. I was grateful it was Salvatore’s house and not the Benedetti family home.
Salvatore’s estate was large and very private. Tall iron gates opened upon our arrival. Only moonlight illuminated most of the grounds, until we drew closer to the house, and I got my first glimpse of the mansion with its huge garage, outbuildings, and extensive and various types of landscaping lights. The grounds, from what I could make out, were expansive, with woods circling most of the property. It seemed to me that the driveway was at least a mile long before it finally circled at the main entrance to the residence. A woman came outside and waited for us. As soon as the car stopped, I climbed out on my own, needing to stretch my legs after so many hours of sitting. I’d grown up surrounded by wealth, but I’d never lived in a house this grand. It seemed pretentious of Salvatore, maybe another weakness. I walked toward the woman.
“Ma’am.”
“Just Lucia,” I answered, attempting to give her a warm smile. I’d need allies. I didn’t want to be hated.
The woman smiled back and nodded. I turned to the guard who’d flown with me. He looked as tired as I felt.
“When will Salvatore arrive?” I asked, wanting information.
“I’m not sure.”
“Come inside,” the woman said.
I followed her in, looking around the house—my new home—for the first time. The large circular foyer led off in several directions, one of which had to be the kitchen, considering the delicious smell coming from that direction. I could see the living room through a large archway. At the far end stood a wall of glass, and large doors led to a patio. Dim, colorful lights shone off the glass-like surface of the swimming pool, inviting even now. The rest of the interior doors stood closed. I turned my attention to the large marble staircase leading to the upper floor.
“Are you hungry?”
I shook my head, stifling a yawn. “I’m just very tired.”
She nodded. “I’ll take you to your room.”
I touched her elbow to stop her before she turned. “What’s your name?”
“Rainey.”
“Rainey. That’s a pretty name.”
“Thank you.”
I figured her to be in her early forties. It felt strange to have her wait on me. I’d always hated that, actually. I felt uncomfortable and awkward even with servants. I didn’t mind a housekeeper or cook, but a servant felt different.
I followed Rainey up the stairs and toward the double doors at the end of the hall. I assumed that was the master bedroom. My heart thudded as we approached, knowing he’d expect to have me in his bed. Of course he would. Why not? What sense would it make for him to take possession of me but not fuck me?
But before we reached the foreboding doors at the end, we turned to the right, where Rainey opened a single door.
“This one’s yours,” she said, switching on a light and gesturing for me to enter.
The room was huge and richly decorated with heavy dark curtains draped from each of the windows. Exposed brick made the space appear darker and gave it a masculine flair, but I liked it, especially the large fireplace I wouldn’t have need for just yet. Rainey pointed out the bathroom, which I barely glanced at, because my gaze had fallen on the large, four-post, king-size bed in the room with a thick duvet and overstuffed pillows at the head.
“Shall I help you unpack? We’ve already moved your other things into the closet.”
“Other things? Oh.” I’d forgotten. Salvatore had had my things packed up and brought here a few days ago. I didn’t have much, hadn’t needed much at a Catholic school, but what I had was neatly organized in the open walk-in closet Rainey stood at the entrance of. “I’m actually tired. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll just have a shower and go to bed.”
“Of course.”
She closed the closet doors and moved over to turn down the bed—another thing I didn’t like. I could turn down my own bed.
“Thank you, Rainey,” I said, dismissing her.
Once she left, I went over and peeked inside the closet. Huge. The racks were full and contained my clothes as well as items that did not belong to me. I checked the size of a dress. Four. He’d probably bought them for me. Or had them bought. I couldn’t see Salvatore Benedetti shopping.