Page 65 of Killer Love

“Madam Zappia,” he says with a respectful bow.

I flinch at the name, but I offer a kind smile. “Excuse me,” I say, pausing to clear my dry throat. “Where can I find Luka?”

He points toward the stairwell. “Down the stairs, end of the east wing.”

“Not upstairs?”

“No, ma’am. He’s head of security, so he resides on the ground floor.”

“Oh…” I nod. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

I continue forward and grip the banister in the dark on the way down the unfamiliar staircase. The moon lights my path, seeping in through the windows. I look out as I pass, taking in the trees and wildlife. It’s strange to not see a giant wall behind it all, but that is something I’ll gladly get used to.

An orange light flickers through a door sitting slightly ajar at the end of the east corridor. I move slowly, listening to the soft cracking of my joints as I inch closer.

I peek inside to find Luka sitting near a fireplace with a book in his hands.

He senses me instantly. “Sofia?”

“I’m sorry,” I say, retreating. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—”

“Wait,” he says, standing up. “Come back. Please.”

I push the door open, pulling the blanket a little tighter around my shoulders as I glance around. Luka’s room is as minimalist as the rest of the house with a bed in the corner and a desk stacked with books and various objects I can’t make out in the dark. The fireplace crackles quietly, the flame barely alive, illuminating the space with a pensive atmosphere.

“You couldn’t sleep either?” I ask.

“I rarely do.” He walks over and closes the door behind me. “Are you all right?”

I open my mouth to speak, but I merely shake my head once in response.

“Lucian?” he asks.

I smile, touched that he asked. “Fast asleep.”

Luka nods. “Good.” He looks at the blanket cloaked around me. “You’re cold?”

“This place…” I chuckle as I adjust it over my shoulders, “it’s a little different than Rome.”

“It’s usually warmer this time of year.”

“Probably not the weather keeping the house ice cold, I’d guess…” I say, recalling the screaming echoing through the halls earlier. “I’m sorry for getting you into so much trouble.”

“You didn’t.”

He gestures at the fireplace. I take the opportunity to sit down beside it, loosening the blanket to feel the heat on my skin as he picks up a new log from the pile of wood stashed in the corner.

“It’s strange,” I say.

“What is?” he asks.

“Coming and going through the house without drawing questions.”

He sets the log on the fire and sits down across from me. “Our men serve and protect. They aren’t paid to judge.”

I nod, feeling a little more at ease. “What are you reading?” I ask. He offers me the book and I blink at the foreign alphabet staring back at me. “It’s in Russian.”

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