The side drive wrapped around to another house, a smaller version of the main one, which she called her couch house. There was a heated pool she did laps in at night to tire herself out so she could sleep. At least she tried to tire herself out. It didn’t matter if it worked or not. The pool was awesome, and the landscaping surrounding the pool and house was lush. She loved it.
The house itself was stunning. She loved the way it was clearly designed as an Italian Renaissance Revival country home. She felt the architects had succeeded. Two stories, it had a sweeping bridal staircase, which was one of her favorite features. The rooms were grand sizes. There were four suites on the second floor for guests. Each suite had a wonderful view of the lake, the pool, the forest or the lush landscaping. The suites were complete with their own enormous bathrooms and sitting rooms.
Technically, there was a third story. Emmanuelle called it an attic, but the spaces had been renovated at one time into offices. She had the cleaners keep them up, but she never used them. The attic ran the length of the house, so each of the four rooms was gigantic, too big for her to contemplate what one would do in such a large space other than turn it into a workout area. Her gym was in the basement, where it was cooler, and no one had access to it but her.
Her kitchen was fabulous. She actually really enjoyed cooking, although she never told anyone because Francesca and Taviano were the two chefs in the family and she wasn’t up to their capabilities. She dabbled in cooking. She learned by watching the cooking channels. It was fun and relaxing, and no one was around to see her mistakes.
The impressive foyer had mahogany wainscoting. There was a formal living room and a sunroom that overlooked the beautiful landscaping. The dining room led into her kitchen, and even the sunroom had an archway that gave a peek into the large, sunny room. Perhaps because she was Italian, she felt like the kitchen was the heart of her home. Certainly, when she was visiting Stefano and Francesca, dining was one of the happiest times she spent with her entire family.
There was an expansive island and gleaming mahogany cabinets, with limestone and marble countertops. The Sub-Zero and Wolf appliances didn’t mean that much to her, but seemed a huge selling point to her real estate agent, so she was happy to have them. She did appreciate the walk-in pantry and the eat-in area along with a butler’s pantry. She spent a lot of time in her kitchen and, from there, used the French doors leading to a sun porch facing the lake.
The luxury master bedroom was a little over the top, but she couldn’t resist the gas fireplace, walk-in closets, dressing room and private balcony facing the forest. The suite cornered so that part of it faced the lake as well. The master bath was nothing short of spa-like. That had been a selling point. When she came out of the shadows, her body hurting like hell, she enjoyed soaking in that deep, hot Jacuzzi with the powerful jets coming at her from every angle.
The shower was just as luxurious, a large, glassed-in two-person room-like stall with a complex overhead rack of hundreds of small fountains that could rain down in various colors, if one desired, while other jets sprayed from all sides. She allowed the patterns of colors to run through as she washed her hair and conditioned it and then let the hot water pour over her skin, hoping to ease the pain of the physical punches she’d taken to her body.
She loved Valentino Saldi. Nothing was going to change that, but he hadn’t exactly told Stefano the entire truth. He hadn’t told her the entire truth. She had seen firsthand what lies did to shadow riders. Eloisa was a prime example, and she was not going to be turned into her mother, a bitter woman who’d turned on her own children because she wasn’t loved.
Did Val love her? The answer was yes. He loved to fuck her. The physical attraction between them was so hot and wild she couldn’t imagine it ever fading. She’d seen older riders and knew it hadn’t faded for them. Their shadows saw to that. She also knew that wouldn’t be enough for her. She wanted to be loved for herself.
She’d thought Valentino had fallen in love with her, just as she’d fallen in love with him. She had been naïve, not realizing it was all about loving her body. Her family. Her shadow. Whatever it was that he knew—and she didn’t. He kept secrets from her, vital ones. Not just family secrets. She could forgive that. She kept family secrets. They both had a silent pact not to ask. This was different. He was hiding something he should have disclosed to her.