My father wasn’t one to feel fear easily, so seeing him show it, actually let it manifest so it was visible to all who had eyes… that in itself worried me. Because if a man like my father was anxious around Nikolai and his brother, what hope was there for me to make it out alive?
If I stayed in the house one more second, feeling that pressure grow all around me, I was going to snap.
I left my room and walked down the stairs, my feet barely making any sound over the plush floor runner. I passed many servants, but they ignored me otherwise, and when I got to the landing and headed for the front door, I wasn’t surprised to see Edoardo move out from the hallway.
I wanted to snap that I didn’t need him to watch me. I was home, with so much security around that I was drowning in it. But I kept my mouth shut and ignored him. I didn’t like the way he looked at me, staring at me with this slimy gaze.
Once outside I felt his heavy presence behind me, the sound of the door clicking shut seeming overly loud. For just a second I closed my eyes and inhaled, the promise of spring in the air enough to drive away the chill when the wind picked up.
Adjusting my cardigan so it was a little tighter around my chest, I walked forward, wanting to look at the fruit trees at the front of the property by the main gate and see if there were any new blossoms.
I could hear the steady footfalls from Edoardo behind me, and looked over my shoulder, confirming he was right there, yet he did give me some personal space.
There were several gardeners working on the property, making sure the bushes were trimmed, the landscaping just perfect. The soft soles of my flats kicked up some of the decorative pebbles as I made my way toward the line of fruit trees.
Once I got to the line of trees I weaved my way in and out of them. They were pretty sparse, bare for this time of year, but I didn’t care. I just wanted out of the house, wanted to get away from all the chaos and hectic atmosphere that was all because my life was irrevocably, dramatically changing.
I stopped and ran my fingers over the bark of an apple tree, the texture slightly rough, chilled from the cold air. I trailed my fingers along the branches, imagining the leaves filling it out this summer. Sound to my left had me looking at the massive gate that lined our entire property. From the ground to about waist high was decorative stone, then that’s when the intricately twisted wrought iron bars started and climbed up about fifteen feet.
I could hear Edoardo start a low conversation with the guard at the gate, and glanced over my shoulder to see their heads angled forward as they spoke in hushed voices. I focused on the trees again, looking at the branches, and reached up, rising on my toes, to touch the small buds that were starting to sprout along the spindle lengths.
It was only a moment before the sun caught something, causing a glint to draw my attention back to the gate. I saw a sleek black luxury car with darkly tinted windows drive-by. It wouldn’t have had me take notice otherwise, but because it was moving at a slow–creepily speed–had the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
Although we didn’t live in an exclusively private area, with houses having about an acre between each, and our home in particular was situated across from a thick line of woods. That meant car traffic down this road wasn’t frequent.
I found myself glancing at Edoardo again, but he was still immersed in a quiet conversation with the gate guard. My focus went back to the car, which was now completely stopped just ahead of me, the vehicle idling, the low hum of the engine speaking of wealth, it was almost silent.
I felt my heart jerk in my chest the longer I stared at the car. I couldn’t see who was inside with how dark the windows were tinted, but I felt whoever was in there watching me. It took me back to earlier, that same feeling I’d had as I stepped out of the boutique, the same sensation I’d experienced at the cafe.
It seemed like time stood still, but I knew only moments had passed, seconds of this almost stare-off with this strange vehicle. And then it was gone, disappearing down the road and around the corner. Only then did I exhale, letting out the tensions that had been slowly growing in those short seconds. I knew I should tell someone, Edoardo at the least, but a little voice whispered no, to keep it to myself.
I had turned and made my way back to the house before I realized I was moving, wanting to go in my room, shut the door and lock myself away from everyone and everything.
Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling of almost… anticipation settling deep inside of me.
Chapter
Seven
Amara
I was being tugged at, plucked, shaped into what my mother and father saw as the perfect Italian girl for my future husband.
And all I could do was stand there, staring at myself in the full length mirror as servants bustled around me, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles in my dress, making sure every curl, every hair was in its place. My makeup had been done twenty minutes ago, a subtle, natural look that accentuated my beauty, or so my mother said.
They were murmuring and under their breath, a string words on how they wanted everything to be perfect “per Master Bianchi’s orders”. And I just stood there like a doll that they could prep and primp, not feeling anything, not seeing anything.
There was a soft knock at my bedroom door and then my mother was coming in, speaking in Italian to the servants, ushering them out and coming to stand behind me, her delicate sized hands resting on my shoulders. She was only about an inch taller than my five-foot-five frame, but even still I couldn’t meet her gaze. There was a lump in my throat, an ache in my chest, and full pressure in my belly.
“Dmitry and Nikolai Petrov have arrived and are downstairs in your father’s cigar room,” she said softly and I nodded once, licking my lips and continuing to stare at my reflection.
My mother had picked out the dress I was currently in, an emerald green full length one that she said complimented my olive complexion and dark hair beautifully. It was long sleeved, with a scalloped collar that dipped right underneath my collarbone bones, an attribute my father always said hinted at femininity.
Although it was form fitting and showed the slight swells of my breasts, the dips of my hips, and the flare of my waist, it was still modest, the skirting fell to my ankles, keeping the majority of my skin covered so I seemed innocent. Virginal. Because that was, after all, the biggest selling point. My inexperience. My lack of anything and everything sexual.
I’d never been alone with the opposite sex who wasn’t hired by my father to guard me, who wasn’t a family member. I’d been sheltered and sequestered away until all I could do was gather my worldly experience from the many books in the library, from the hushed whispering and gossiping of the staff.
“Mr. Petrov will be stunned when he sees your beauty, Amara.” She moved her hands down my shoulders and gripped my upper arms gently. “He’ll treat you well.” I could hear the hopeful tone in her voice. Was she trying to convince me or herself?