Page 15 of Borrowed Bride

“It’s his orders. And … construction.”

“Hisorders?” I sneer. “What’s so important about the south wing?”

“Nothing,” Ben replies. “But please honor his wishes.”

“Fine.” I draw my hand away from the door and stride away with Anton and Ben on my tail.

Why doesn’t Marco want me in the south wing? I don’t believe for a second that it’s because of construction. This manor is massive but it’s not so huge that I’d miss the renovation of an entire wing.

I suddenly have a new plan, and it takes me until early evening to put it into action. Feigning tiredness, I retire to my bedroom and then send Anton away to fetch my dinner. While he’s away, I manage to persuade Ben to hurry away and find me some period products, making him turn pale as I explain in great detail the specifics of myemergency.

Men, for whatever reason, cower so quickly at the prospect of women’s troubles. If Marco was smarter, he’d have female guards.

With my guards distracted, I sneak through the manor and make it all the way back to the south wing without incident. The door isn’t locked.

“If he didn’t want me in here,” I murmur to myself as I slip into a dull room filled with musty air. “He should have locked the door.”

The room is filled with furniture but it’s all covered in dust sheets. The curtains are drawn shut with light sneaking in through a few gaps and streaking the opposite wall with the orange of the setting sun.

There’s no sign of renovation.

I walk from this room to the next, and the next. Each is the same. The air is thick, dust coats every surface, and all the gorgeous ornate furniture is hidden away under dust sheets. The walls are graced with large paintings much like the ones that hang in the entrance hall. Great depictions of cities across the world, castles and rivers, and then one that catches my eye.

It hangs above an unused fireplace, hidden under a thick layer of dust, but the image is clear.

It’s a family portrait. A man who resembles a younger Dante, a kindly woman smiling, and two children. A boy and a girl are wearing butterfly brooches that are similar to the charm Marco has on his wallet. That has to be Marco and his sister. My heart skips a beat.

Its importance suddenly becomes clear. Is it his last memory of her? It seems too sentimental for a man like Marco, though.

Is this his mother’s wing? Is that why it’s closed? Dante had revealed last night that both Marco’s mother and sister had passed. A nervous chill sweeps up my spine, and I glance over my shoulder, struck by the sensation that I suddenly really shouldn’t be here. If this place holds emotional importance to Marco, he may be extremely unforgiving to find me here.

I should turn back.

Instead, I press on, consequences be damned. The more I know about Marco, the easier he will be to manipulate.

My exploration takes me through several winding corridors and more abandoned rooms until I find a smaller corridor that’s not like the others. It’s tucked beside a fireplace and there’s no door that I can see. Light flickers at the other end, and like a moth to a flame, I follow it.

The light steadily gets brighter the closer I get, even as the narrow corridor presses in around me. My breath quickens, suddenly fearing the walls closing in and trapping me forever. Thankfully, when I stumble out into the light, I find myself in a stunning place.

I’m surrounded by hundreds of plants of all shapes, sizes, and colors. A multitude of floral scents attack my nose as I breathe in, and the gleaming light is the setting sun bouncing off the glass room.

Is this a…greenhouse? Why is there a hidden corridor leading to a greenhouse of all places?

Suddenly, deep laughter catches my attention and my heart punches up into my throat as a softer, more feminine laugh follows. Cautiously, I walk forward and peer around a leafy plant.

My heart stops dead in my chest.

Marco is here. He leans down low, embracing a woman in a chair who buries her face into his chest.

“Oh Marco,” she croaks softly, emotion flooding her voice. “I wish you didn’t have to leave me.”

What the fuck?

I need to get out of here.

I step back—and my ankle catches on the edge of a metal pail sitting just around the corner. The clatter of the metal is deafening as Marco and the woman fly apart.

Marco’s thunderous eyes land on me, and his face twists with fury as he charges toward me.

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