Of Blood and Bone (8 page)

And somehow, I feel like I’ve been pushed back into my place, as though Luca is telling me that I’m just one of many.  That Adrian simply loves women.  Which may or may not be the case and it doesn’t really matter to me.

“He is good company,” I answer simply.  “Very friendly.”

“Oh, he is that,” Luca agrees.

He turns the car up onto a drive and passes beneath large gates.  The name Chessarae is scrawled in the iron above us and the mansion itself looms on the horizon, rising out of the dark and clouds like something out of a movie.  I can’t help but stare because it is magnificent. 

“Welcome to my home,” Luca says as he pulls the car up front.  He quickly gets out and walks around to open my door.  He has impeccable manners.  I add that to his list.

Adrian has pulled past us and disappeared around the side of the house.  I can only assume that he is putting the car away.  Luca leads the way to the front door, where he holds the door open for me and gestures for me to pass.

As I do, as I cross the threshold into his home, I wonder just what exactly I am getting myself into.

Chapter Eight

Chessarae is magnificent and enormous. 

It takes several minutes to wind our way through the front doors and the sparkling, perfectly decorated house before we find ourselves standing in front of Melina Minaldi’s bedroom doors. 

Luca is slightly in front of me, Adrian is to my right and we’re all three staring at each other as we listen to the wailing coming from within.  It’s horrific and filled with angst; and it causes chills to run up my spine.

I don’t hesitate.  I push at the doors, but they won’t open.   Luca quickly pulls out a key. 

“You keep them locked?” I am surprised by this. 

He nods.  “We have to.”

He inserts it, turns it and opens the door for me, holding it as I pass. 

“Wait,” he tells me.  “Let’s see where she is.”

He’s hesitant and that surprises me.  Luca is so strong and confident, yet he is leery of his mother?  I once again wonder what I’ve gotten myself into as we tread quietly through her rooms, following the sounds of her screams.

We find her perched like a bird on a window sill, staring out over the estate.  Her white filmy dressing gown hangs over the ledge and I can see from here that there is a beautiful view of the sea and the moon from where she is sitting.  But she isn’t enjoying it.  Her face, which is normally lovely I am sure, is twisted at the moment into something unrecognizable as human.  I can’t help but suck in my breath at the eeriness of this situation. 

Luca hears it and turns to me.

“Are you alright?” he asks.  “Would you like to leave?”

And his face is softer in this moment than I have seen it yet.  He sounds concerned and even a little bit protective, but then it is gone just as soon as it was there.  He politely waits for my answer.

“I’m fine,” I tell him.  “This is what I do.  Nothing surprises me anymore.”

I approach Melina quietly and calmly.  And instead of trying to talk to her, I sit on the opposite side of the window ledge and watch her. 

She screams for a few minutes more and then she stops, staring at me.

In her agitation, her eyes are as black as night and I can see where Luca inherited his.  Hers are as fathomless as his. 

“Who are you?” she asks me.  I can hear in her voice that she is lucid, and I can see it in her eyes, as well.  She knows exactly what she is doing.  So the question remaining is:  why is she doing it?

“My name is Evangeline Talbot,” I tell her.  “I’m American and I’m here on your beautiful island for the summer.  Who are you?”

She looks surprised by my question.  I’m sure that she certainly isn’t used to it.  Everyone knows the Minaldis on this island.  She probably hasn’t had to introduce herself in years and years.   But she looks at me squarely in the eye and extends her hand, her chin raised regally in the air. 

“I’m Melina Minaldi,” she says gracefully.  And I can see that she is proud of that fact.  She is proud of who she is.  But most importantly, she knows her name.  This is an important gauge of her sanity.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” I tell her.  “You have absolutely lovely skin, Mrs. Minaldi.  Whatever do you use on it?”

As I speak, I slide my fingers along her wrist, along her pulsepoint.  I pretend to feel the softness of her skin, but truly I am checking her pulse.  It is steady and slow, not erratic and fluttery as I would expect from someone in a psychotic melt-down. 

“I use a cream that my mother used,” she tells me.  “It’s made from crushed pearls.”

“Well, you can tell,” I answer her.  “Your skin is glowing.  You don’t look a day over thirty-five.”

“Ha!” she crows.  “I’m sixty-four and I’ve earned every line on my face.”

So she knows her age.  I’m secretly probing her, trying to gauge how much of reality she is still living in.  Someone with advanced dementia doesn’t remember details like their age. 

“Well,” I answer.  “Your pearl moisturizer must be doing its job.  You barely have even one line.”

She sticks her chin higher in the air and I see the light reflected from her eyes.  They are slightly glassy, a tell-tale sign of the sedatives that she has taken today.  I’m surprised she’s not sound asleep by now. 

“My mother always insisted that I get eight hours of sleep per night,” I tell her.  “She said if I don’t, I will age well before my time.  She says it is the fastest way to get wrinkles.”

Melina looks dismayed and she drops her legs from her curled up position, allowing them to swing from the ledge as she looks at me.  She trusts me now that we are sharing beauty secrets.  Her body language tells me so.

“Does your mother have skin like yours?”

I nod.  “Yes, she does.”

“Then your mother must be very wise.”

I smile at her, trying to instill confidence in her. She won’t listen to me if she doesn’t continue to trust me.

“Have you slept today, Mrs. Minaldi?  You look a little tired.  You should make sure you get your eight hours in.”

She looks pensive.  She doesn’t even glance at Adrian or Luca.  It’s like they aren’t even in the room.  Finally, after she thinks about it a moment, she nods. 

“I am a little tired,” she tells me in a conspiratorial whisper.  “I haven’t been sleeping well lately.”

She starts to get up and I take her elbow, helping her from the ledge.  She barely weighs more than a feather, her arms strikingly thin. 

“Oh?” I ask.  “We should do something about that.  It’s not good to not sleep well.  Women like us need our beauty sleep.”

She looks pleased by that as she walks toward what I hope is her bedroom.  I continue to hold her elbow.

“Yes,” she agrees.  “Beautiful women like us deserve beauty sleep.  We aren’t like the others, you know. We’re special.  My Nicolas always tells me so.”

I look at her face now and it is open and honest.  This doesn’t seem to be an act.  She truly does believe that Nicolas is here in the present tense.  She was faking her psychotic episode but she’s not faking her belief that Nicolas is alive. 

“Well,” I tell her as I ease her into her giant bed and pull her downy comforter up to her chin.  “Nicolas must be very wise for a man.  They don’t usually know so much about women.”

We laugh together like we know a secret and I know that I have won her over.  She curls onto her side and closes her eyes.  I am just turning away when I hear her whisper.

I turn back.

“What was that, Mrs. Minaldi?”

Her eyes are open, black as night, and she looks into mine. Her gaze is fierce now.

“You should leave now, Evangeline.”

I startle at the harsh tone of her voice.  It is a night and day difference from her laughter a moment ago.

“Why?”I ask. 

“Because Chessarae is dangerous for you.  My son is evil.”

She closes her eyes again and doesn’t reopen them. I feel frozen as I turn and find Luca. His gaze is dark and mine is tied to it.  I can’t look away from the pained expression that he is wearing. But he closes his eyes briefly, then turns away.  He’s not going to acknowledge what she said.  I know that right now. 

He motions toward the door and the three of us leave.  As we do, Luca locks the door behind us.

“You were very good with her,” he tells me as we walk away.  “I’ve never seen her take to someone like that before.”

“It’s just something I’ve learned,” I tell him.  “People are much more inclined to be cooperative if they don’t know that you’re probing them for information.”

“That’s probably true in all levels of life,” Luca agrees. 

And his eyes!  His eyes draw me to him.  They are filled with so many things, dark things, pained things; and the psychiatrist and woman in me wants to discover what has hurt him. Because clearly, even though he is strong and confident on the outside, there is trauma lurking on the inside.  The average person probably wouldn’t see it, but I can. 

Luca looks at Adrian. 

“Adrian, I won’t be requiring anything further tonight.  Thank you very much for staying late.”

Adrian looks surprised, because it is clear that Luca is dismissing him.  It’s also clear that he isn’t used to being dismissed.  He looks almost confused as he looks to me, but what can I say?  Adrian doesn’t work for me.  Finally, he nods and turns to me.

“I had a very nice time tonight, Eve,” he tells me, his charming tone back in full swing.  “We’ll have to do it again soon.”

I smile and he hugs me quickly before he leaves us.  Luca doesn’t miss a moment of the exchange and I can feel his dark gaze on my skin.

“Would you come with me for a few minutes?” he asks politely.  “I’d like to speak to you about my mother.”

“Of course,” I tell him.  He leads the way through the massive house and I soon find myself in a dark and masculine study.  Luca gestures toward a leather seat. 

“Please sit,” he tells me.  “Make yourself comfortable. Would you like a drink?”

“I would love one,” I tell him. 

He crosses the room in three strides and pours two glasses of what looks to be Scotch.  He walks back and hands me a glass half-filled with the amber liquid.

While I am standing next to him, I can practically feel the power emanating from him.  He’s the type of person who has been born into it.  It has been cultivated in him from the time he was an infant and it shows.  Power and money are in every molecular strand in his body. He is definitely a force to be reckoned with.

“To sanity,” Luca says, tipping his glass toward mine. And then he downs his in one gulp. 

I take a tentative sip and realize quickly that I was correct.  It’s Scotch.  Neat.  Without one ounce of tonic or even an ice cube to dilute it.  It burns my mouth and warms my chest as it slides smoothly down.  But for some reason, I don’t want him to know that it makes me want to gag and cough.  I want to seem unfazed, so I drink the rest in two gulps and hand Luca back the empty glass.

It is worth my numb lips because there is approval in his eyes as he takes it.

“Aren’t you going to ask?” he says as he sets the glasses down on a heavy wooden side table.  He is still staring at me and his gaze makes me feel like my skin will be ablaze soon. 

“Ask what?”  I feel slightly woozy already from the Scotch.  And to be honest, I’m also woozy from being so near to Luca Minaldi.  For several different reasons, he has an interesting effect on me.

“Wouldn’t you like to ask me if you’re safe here with me?”

I look at him, remembering his mother’s startling words. 
My son is evil.
 

“Am I?” I ask and my voice is barely a murmur. 

“Probably not.”

Luca’s voice is quiet in the study, as dark as the night surrounding us, and I suddenly feel like I should run, somewhere far away from here.  But at the same time, I know that I won’t.  I am ridiculously drawn to this man and the more I find out about him, the more I want to know.  So I shake my head.

“I’m not afraid.”

Luca looks at me again and I don’t see one ounce of the vulnerability that I have seen there before.  Instead, he is expressionless once more and darkly handsome. 

“Well, that’s the rub,” he answers.  “You should be.”

Chapter Nine

Luca

I watch her absorb my words, drawing them into her body as she thinks about them.  Her face, for once, is impassive.  Evangeline isn’t showing her hand.

“Why should I fear you?” she finally asks.  She is trying to act unruffled.  But I can see that she is nervous.  Her slender hands fidget in her lap as she tries to sit still.

“Oh, we don’t really have the time to get into that this evening,” I tell her.  “There will be other nights, I’m sure.  I don’t want to scare you away so soon, Dr. Talbot.”

“I’ve told you,” she says.  “Call me Eva.”

I look at her long and hard and she fidgets under my gaze.  On some base level, I find satisfaction in that. She is very unflappable. The fact that I have gotten beneath her skin says something. 

“Ah, we’ve already gone over that, haven’t we?” I ask.  “We aren’t yet friends.”

She lifts her chin and I can see her cheeks are flushed.  Have I offended her or is it the effects of the Scotch?  She downed hers like a sailor, something that I wasn’t expecting.  I could tell she didn’t like it. Women usually don’t, but she certainly hid it well.

“As you like,” she answers.  I almost smile, but don’t.  I offended her.  The capable, no-nonsense Dr. Talbot might be more sensitive than she seems.

“Why does Adrian call you Eve?” I ask.  The question is out before I think about it. I hadn’t meant to ask, but ever since I heard him do it, I’ve wanted to know. 

Her eyes meet mine quickly.  She is surprised.  And flustered.  She shakes her head.

“It’s silly.  It’s a private joke, I guess.”

“Why is it private?” I ask.  “You just met him this morning.  How private can it be?”