Page 282 of The Devil's Fire

“Will you be okay?” I asked, worried her thoughts would wander to a dark place after I had left.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.” She gave me a reassuring smile, making me relax a bit. “What about you?”

“Whether we have children or not, having you by my side for the rest of my life is more than enough for me, my love.” Her big green eyes sparkled like emeralds as she slowly released a shy smile.

ninety

Althaia

I woke up feeling refreshed. After Damiano left, I fell asleep immediately, and our conversation left me with a much lighter heart. The fact that he still wanted kids made me feel so much better.

I made my way downstairs and took my time to look around the estate. The interior was beautifully decorated with a mix of modern and antique elements, creating a classy and cozy atmosphere.

The walls were adorned with paintings, and I stopped by each of them to appreciate the art. Of course, I couldn’t help but notice the humongous display of ‘The Last Supper’ by Leonardo da Vinci that had a wall for itself. That could only be Nonna’s doing.

I found it quite amusing how there was such a stark difference in religious beliefs within Damiano’s family. His Nonna was a devoutly religious woman who strongly believed in God, while Damiano seemed to be practically the Devil incarnate.

I let out a snicker.

“Do you find the painting amusing?” A slightly humorous male voice interrupted my thoughts, making me turn around.

A tall man with piercing dark brown eyes stood beside me, his hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks as he observed the painting. There was no mistaking that this man was Damiano’s father. Lorenzo was the spitting image of him.

“Oh, no, I wasn’t laughing at the picture…” I said, embarrassed that it had looked like I was.

“I won’t tell. It’ll be our little secret.” He replied, still gazing at the painting. “Do you know the story behind this painting?” He asked, and I turned to look at it again.

“Jesus telling his disciples that one of them is going to betray him, or Leonardo da Vinci’s new paint experiment technique when he made it?”

He turned to look at me, a brow slightly raised.

“And what about this painting experiment?”

“He used tempera paint on a dry plaster surface instead of the traditional fresco technique. The experiment wasn’t quite successful as it flaked within a few years, and then later it got completely ruined.” I explained.

“Interesting. Are you an artist yourself?” He asked, eyeing me as he spoke.

“I wouldn’t say that, but it’s an interest and a passion of mine.” I offered a small smile, and he responded with a brief nod.

His gaze traveled over me, but the blank expression he wore made it difficult to discern his thoughts, causing an unexpected sense of nervousness.

“Oh, sorry, I’m -”

“Althaia Volante.” He interrupted before I could finish introducing myself. “I’m Riccardo. You thought I wouldn’t know who you are? I found out as soon as I heard my son brought a woman with him. Especially a Volante.” The corner of his mouth twitched ever so slightly, and I felt a subtle urge to frown at his words.

What the hell does he mean by that?

“I wouldn’t have expected anything less.” I offered a tight smile, and he tilted his head slightly to the side. His gaze bore into me, as if he were trying to peer into my soul and unveil my darkest secrets.

“You do look quite well for someone who is supposed to be dead, no?” He smirked.

Like father, like son.

“That was me telling death, ‘not today’.” I tried to joke to ease my nervousness, but his piercing, cold eyes made it challenging.

The corner of his mouth turned up just the tiniest bit, and I had no idea whether to interpret that as a good sign or not.

“Why don’t you join me outside? I’m sure you could use some breakfast, and we’ll get to have a little chat together.” Riccardo didn’t leave me much of a choice as he turned around, heading in the direction of the garden. I followed quietly behind him.

---