The Illegitimate King (Castaldini Crown 3)

She got the distinct feeling that this thin, tall, hawkeyed man hated her.

Upon arriving at the mansion, he again walked her to the door and let her in. As he retreated, she detained him.

“Would you please tell him I’m here? I have to see him right away. This shouldn’t take long, and then you can drive me back to the jet.”

The man looked pointedly at the hand grasping his forearm, cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Principessa, but I am under strict orders. Signore Selvaggio specifically said that whenever you arrive, you are to be let in and that everyone should retreat to their quarters off the estate until he orders us back.”

Just as she’d thought yesterday. How convenient. To get her alone, to be free to do whatever he liked without worrying about witnesses. The only wagging tongues this would provoke would be those lashing at her, his latest conquest.

“If he’s forbidden you to be on the premises with me here, please call him.” He gave her an impassive look. She summoned every iota of control and princesslike graciousness she’d ever have drummed into her, let out a calming exhalation. “I couldn’t tell him I was on my way, since his phone was turned off. But you must know how to contact him.”

“Signore Selvaggio contacts me. I never intrude on him.”

“This is no intrusion. He’s expecting me.”

“He was expecting you. Twelve hours ago.”

So that was it. The man who seemed to despise her with a passion, was punishing her for daring to stand up his god!

“Well, I’m here now. How will he know that I am? How do I know he’s even here anymore? He could be out doing one of those night sports he told me about.”

“I have no idea, Principessa. He didn’t inform me of his movements tonight. I regret that I can’t help you. It’s really up to you, what you do now. You can wait until he turns on his phone and you can inform him of your presence. Or he might come in if he’s outside, or come downstairs if he’s in the mansion. Or if you wish, I can escort you back to the jet and you can reschedule and return some other time.”

All graciousness evaporated on a spike of frustration. “It isn’t as if you’re selling top-secret info to his rivals. Dio! So he gave you an order to let me in and leave. That applies only if he’s waiting for me. But, because of my…tardiness…he’s no longer doing so. So he won’t consider you locating him to inform him of my presence a breach of his orders.” Alfredo just looked back at her stonily. Clearly, he’d said his last word. And had driven her to the very tip of her wits’ end. “Is he so indiscriminating in what he considers insubordination and so unreasonable in meting out punishment that he has you cowering in terror? If he is, then my father and the Council have it all wrong in thinking such a despot can possibly be king material.”

The man seemed to expand with affront. “It is Your Highness who has it all wrong. It isn’t fear that motivates anyone who works for Signore Selvaggio. It’s allegiance. We strive to live up to his expectations, as he always surpasses ours.”

Clarissa gaped at the man.

Whoa. Now that was an impassioned little speech. And no doubt the man had meant every word.

Figured. Hadn’t Ferruccio himself told her how he manipulated people, had them writhing in contentment under his influence? If his conquests were ecstatic to be conquered by him, as she’d proved to be herself, what would his aides and employees feel? They must believe they were blessed to be chosen to serve in his pantheon, smiled upon by his approval. Just great.

She let the man go, watched him close the door behind him, feeling a cloud of resignation settle over her shoulders.

Which didn’t serve any purpose. Alfredo was probably right.

Ferruccio was bound to come back. Or down. Or something.

Or nothing. That was what had happened for the next hour.

Ferruccio hadn’t appeared. And now she was certain he wouldn’t. He was punishing her for being late. The bastard.

She could excuse his right-hand man for being disdainful of her actions, since he didn’t know the particulars. But for Ferruccio to dare think she would have rushed over here, after what he’d done to her! And he’d fooled even Antonia, the woman with the character-fathoming X-ray powers, into thinking he was such an outstanding and worthy man. Not that it mattered now. She had to sort through her options about how to deal with this situation.

Alfredo had given her only two options. Wait. Or leave.

Waiting was clearly a futile endeavor. Ferruccio would probably leave her stewing till morning, would maybe even leave the island without letting her see him. Leaving wasn’t an option, either. It would draw this out to one, or many more, rounds.

She needed this to be over tonight.

Which brought her to a third option. Go looking for him.

She’d start by combing the upper floors. He was probably sitting in some office upstairs, watching her chase her tail on hidden surveillance cameras.

According to her exploration of the ground floor, there were three staircases leading to different places of the complexly designed mansion. One led to the tower, another to what comprised the eastern facade, the last to the western one.

Without stopping to consider where to start, she found her feet moving. Only after the compulsion had her scaling the stairs did she recall something he told her last night, during those magical hours by the sea. He said he’d insisted on changing the orientation of this place before building commenced. He’d said he was at his clearest, at his most tranquil and powerful, when he slept and worked facing west. That was where she was heading. That was where he was.

With every step up the stairs, her breath shortened. She was far from winded, but that premonition that had told her where she’d find him also told her she was walking into a new plane of existence. One she’d never exit the same, if at all.

She reached the mezzanine-level gallery where he’d stood looking down at her yesterday. From there, the western wing converged into two areas. She didn’t hesitate, took the left passageway into a wide corridor of arched columnns.

At regular intervals between the arches about a foot above her head, triangular, bronze sconces, with their apex down and their bases up and open, radiated muted, golden lights across the stone walls, deepening the textures and casting shadows on every structure, boosting the impression that this was an ancient place that had been transported, intact, through time.

At the blind end of the corridor, a smaller replica of the mansion’s main door was centered in a thirty-foot wall.