“Still…” I swallow thickly, arguing with myself about whether I should show how pissed off I am or not. “I didn’t want you to intervene. Did you pay for her tuition because you sent me here, too?”
“I knew you had to speak again. You never solved the issues you had.”
“Because I don’t want to,” I grit out.
“Stop acting like a sullen child, Julian. I did what I thought, and still think, was wise. Have you spoken to the girl?”
“Yes, not for long,” I lie. “I’m not interested in her, I told you that before.”
The pause on the other end makes it clear Bruno doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
“I think you need to work through your issues,” Bruno finally cuts into the tense silence. “Think about it, and take your time.”
“Wait,” I say, realizing he’s about to cut the call.
“Yes, something else you wanted?”
“There was a student here,” I mutter. “Leonardo Brambilla. Remember him?”
“Of course,” Bruno goes on solemnly. “The boy Francesca was supposed to marry.”
“Except his parents called off the wedding, and now the guy’s missing.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I guess I thought…” I exhale. “I thought maybe you knew what happened to him.”
Another long silence follows. “I need you to stay away from that mess. Leonardo’s father, Antonio, is a dangerous man. You don’t want to get on his bad side, Julian.”
“I was just curious.”
“Well, find something else to be curious about,” he says, his tone harsh. “Don’t get tangled up with
Antonio.”
“Why?”
“Because I fucking said so, Julian. And another thing. This university… it may not be as safe as we think. You need to watch your back there.”
A thousand thoughts race through my mind, but before I get the chance to voice any of them, I hear someone calling my father’s name.
“I’ll speak to you soon,” he mutters. “Have to go now. Leave the Brambilla situation alone.”
“Fine,” I hiss, ending the call.
Usually, I wouldn’t be such a piece of shit to my adoptive father, but my nerves are fucking frayed today. I’m still wondering about Bruno’s words, though. Is it possible he’s right, and there are sinister forces at play in the university?
I suppose only time will tell.
12
FRANCESCA
Past
It’s been a few days since the party where I met the servant boy, and I can’t stop thinking about him.
I don’t even understand it myself. I’ve never been one to obsess over boys, and yet the brown-haired, gray-eyed Julian has been on my mind more than I’d care to admit.
After dinner, I head back to my bedroom, wandering the halls of our spacious mansion as I allow my mind to wander and think about Julian. I rarely let myself do this – fantasize this way. But today, I can’t resist.
I think of how cocky he was, how confident he seemed despite his status being lower than mine. Normally, I wouldn’t care that he was a servant, but I know full well Papa will throw a hissy fit every time I associate with the help.
As I near my bedroom, I bump into a console table and accidentally tip over a tall vase just as one of our maids, Ana, nears me from the other end of the hallway.
“Shit!” I cry out as the vase tumbles and shatters on the floor. I kneel and start picking up the pieces, and Ana runs up to me with a panicked expression.
“Please leave it, signorina!” she cries out. “You’ll cut yourself, let me clean it up.”
She takes over, but I still try to help. Just then, someone roars to life behind us.
“Who broke the vase?”
I turn over my shoulder to find Papa standing there with a critical expression.
“I’m sorry, Papa, it was me,” I say. “I was being clumsy. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t lie for Ana’s sake, Francesca,” my father hisses, facing the ashen-faced maid. “Did you break this vase, Ana? Tell the truth, because I’ll know if you’re lying.”
Ana turns her crestfallen face to mine and even though I shake my head at her, she nods.
“Yes, signore. I’m sorry, I broke it.”
“Ana, you didn’t –” I start, but my father’s next action cuts me off.
He slaps Ana across the face so hard it sends her flying back.
“And you tried to let my daughter take the blame?” he barks, while I cover my mouth with my hands.
“You’re fired, Ana. Pack your things and get the hell out of my house.”
Ana stumbles to her quarters while I recover from the shock of what happened.
“Papa, I broke the vase,” I plead with my father.
“Still lying?” He faces me with a disappointed expression. “I don’t buy it for a second, Francesca. Go to your room. Tomorrow you’ll only have bread and water, and you’re not allowed to leave your room, either.”
“Why?” I cry out.
He narrows his eyes at me. “For associating with the help, trying to help them. It’s inappropriate for a young woman of your status, Francesca. Now, go!”