CHAPTER EIGHT
I can’t believe I signedmy life away. Two years trapped in this...in this...mansion. I don’t care about the opulence of it. I grew up in a home similar in size and style and I hated everything about it. Maybe not when I was young. I loved playing hide and seek with my nanny and the few friends I was allowed to have.
They stopped coming over on my tenth birthday. Mama wouldn’t allow it anymore. No explanation. No consoling. I was cut off from the outside world in the blink of an eye. It took seven years to learn why, and the final year to concoct a plan of escape.
That final year, before I turned eighteen, Lorenzo pushed Antonio on me every chance he got. I almost wondered if he wanted his business partner to rape me. He is only fifteen years older than me, but at seventeen, thirty-two seemed ancient.
If he had been a nice man, if he didn’t make my skin crawl with his creepy stares and touches, I wouldn’t have been as repulsed by his age. The more I learned about my father’s business and how tight he and Antonio were, the more I hated him.
Hated both of them.
That is the only thing holding me together now. The obvious hate Stone has for Lorenzo. I hope he had the same vendetta against Antonio because both have been searching for us. Father wants Evangeline. His wife of twenty years knows too many secrets. And Antonio needs me. I discovered in my final months that I would secure his ties to Lorenzo. I’m not aware of all the details of the deal they have with our marriage, but it can’t be good.
I supposed that’s what I am for Stone as well. A business negotiation.
Rocco. His legal name isn’t too far off from Stone. I wonder why the change. I’ll keep pressing his buttons to see if using it bothers him. If it does, I’ll continue. I don’t have much leverage over anything and will take whatever scraps I can find.
I make my way through the labyrinth of hallways, poking my head in every door, whether they are opened or not. There aren’t as many doors downstairs. A giant archway leads to a beautiful bright and sunny kitchen that seems incongruous to Stone’s disposition. Dark green cabinetry covers one wall while gleaming white granite counters and a green and white mosaic tile backsplash shine in the sunlight.
Dark beams make stripes in the tall ceilings, and a wall of windows looks out over a green field of gardens that dip down to the vineyards below.
The center island is twice the size of the giant bed in my prison upstairs. The cabinetry on the island is whitewashed, and the countertop a dark wood, similar to what is in Stone’s office. Eight black iron stools are tucked around the island.
I can’t imagine Stone eating at the center island. It’s too domestic, too normal for a man as dark as him. Another archway leads to an elaborate dining room. This is where I can see him eating all his eight-course meals. With a table long enough to seat thirty, and high-backed upholstered chairs all around, I still imagine him eating alone. He isn’t one to make small talk or have friends he palled around with.
Sad, really. Although, my life is pretty pathetic as well. I turn the corner and bump into a woman wearing a traditional maid’s uniform. Not slutty, surprisingly, which is good since the woman is my mother’s age.
“Hi. I’m Gia.” If I’m going to be here a while, I might as well make nice with the staff. Besides, it isn’t their fault I am trapped in Stone’s castle.
“I know. Welcome. I’m Maria,” she says in a strong Italian accent. “When you have a moment, will you make a list of your favorite foods? Foods you don’t like, those you require at each meal. Please inform me of your expectations.”
Had I not grown up in a similar lifestyle I would have been impressed with the opulence and service. Living paycheck to paycheck in America for the past few years gives me a swift kick of reality.
“What are Stone’s least favorite foods?”
The maid glances to her left, then to her right as if worried she’ll get fired for answering. “Mr. Parlatore doesn’t care for green vegetables.”
I can’t help the laugh that comes from my lips. I haven’t laughed in a long time, and this I find too funny. “None?”
Maria grins. “The smell of broccoli makes him, well, shall I say...nauseous.”
My grin matches Maria’s then grows wider. “Well, that’s too bad because broccoli is my favorite. In fact, I like to have it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.” It is one of my favorite vegetables but once a day, or a few times a week is my norm.
Maria covers her mouth with her hand, hiding a giggle. “Miss Smith, you have the devil in you.” She heads into the kitchen, leaving me alone in the hallway. Two things struck me. One, she referred to me as Miss Smith instead of Miss Parisi. Second, she doesn’t seem afraid of my request.
Filing that interesting bit of information away, I continue my exploration of the estate. The downstairs consists of three living room spaces, all too formal and stuffy for my taste, a conference room that can seat twenty, Stone’s office, and four bathrooms.
I discover what I thought was a closet door close to the kitchen leads to the basement. Chills creep over my skin. I’m not ready to dig that deep into my exploring, afraid of what I might find.
I take the glorious stairs again and this time continue straight instead of turning down the hall that leads to my room. One wing—there are three—houses three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a more casual living room with spectacular views of the vineyard.
The other wing is identical but also has an office. Not quite as big as Stone’s, but almost as elaborate. Only two of the rooms appear lived in. Maybe where Tio and Lucca hang out while on babysitting duty?
Although one of them is always right outside my door anytime it opens, I guess they have to have somewhere to unwind in their downtime. Making my way down the hall where my room is situated, I open the first door. A bathroom. The second is a bedroom. Beautiful, but not lived in.
The next door is mine. Mine. I don’t know how I feel about that. Passing it, I poke my head into another office, a bigger living space than the second wing, and stop at the end of the hall in front of a closed door. I wiggle the knob, but it’s locked.
Interesting. The only locked door in the house. Since I’d gone into every room and not one seemed to be Stone’s, I figure this has to be his suite.