Page 23 of Depths of Desire
Little did I know.
I slowly push myself into a seated position and assess the damage. Yeah, I’m sore all over, and my arm under the bandage throbs painfully, but otherwise? I’m okay. I’ll move a little slower, but I’ll manage. Swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, I groan as I rise and pad toward the bathroom.
And wow.
The bathroom is incredible—the kind I’ve always dreamed of. Marble from floor to ceiling, all soft grays and creams with veins like natural artwork. A soaking tub set beneath a wide arched window, a floating vanity with underlighting, and a rainhead-style shower encased in glass. Sleek, modern, expensive. Thekind of bathroom people build when they don’t worry about money.
I turn on the water and wait for the spray to heat before stepping under it, letting the water pound into my aching muscles. I don’t want to think—but I have to. How do I get out of this? How do I get away from my father?
There is no way in hell I’m marrying Malrick Comescu. He’s cold. Terrifying. He’s a vampire. It was one thing to laugh with Pippa and Mia at Mia’s wedding about the men our fathers had lined up for us. I’d gone along with the jokes, pretending like it wasn’t real. Like my dad wasn’t serious. But now that Mia is married—and Pippa too—my father is running out of excuses to delay mine.
And I refuse to be sacrificed.
After the shower, I dry off and wander into the bedroom. Clothes would be nice. I open the dresser drawers and freeze. They’re filled with women’s clothing. New underwear, tags still on. Various sizes. Socks. Nightgowns. All neatly folded. How often does Nico have company?
I shut that thought down fast. Not my business. Nico is not my business, no matter how incredibly sexy he seems. I owe him for saving my life, but I need to stay as far away from him as possible. I don’t want to know anything about him, and prefer that he knows even less about me. He already knows too much because my best friends are married to his brothers. It will be hard enough to outrun them, harder if I let Nico in. Plus, there’s something about him. If I let him in, I’m afraid I will lose myself to him.
I open the closet next. A cute sundress catches my eye—a soft, stretchy blue one made of t-shirt material. It looks insanely comfortable, and right now that’s all I care about.
I grab some panties, rip off the tags, and pull them on. Then the dress. Back in the bathroom, I brush out my damp hair. Ishould probably put it up, but I let it curl around my shoulders. The shadows under my eyes aren’t going anywhere, and there’s no makeup here. Not that it would help.
I think I’m headed to the kitchen, though I’m not entirely sure. I don’t remember much about last night, not really. I make my way downstairs and step into the kitchen.
“Good morning, Miss. Or rather, should I say good afternoon?” a smooth voice says.
I turn. The butler—Carson. Tall, lean, maybe late fifties. He has a faint glow around him and my heart stops. He’s a magickal creature. My larynx freezes and drawing breath requires monumental effort. His smile exudes warmth, and there’s something kind in his blue eyes, something that puts me at ease. I let out a breath.
“Good morning, Carson. Thank you so much for the clothes. I assume it was you who stocked the room?”
He nods politely. “Are you hungry? May I fix you some breakfast? Or lunch?” he adds with a surreptitious glance at the clock.
I too glance at the clock. It’s after two p.m. “I’m famished,” I admit.
“Music to my ears,” he says warmly. “What may I prepare for you?”
I shrug—then wince. Shrugging is definitely on the do-not-do list until my muscles stop screaming.
“Why don’t you surprise me?”
“As you wish. If you’d like to have a seat on the balcony, I’ll bring you some coffee.”
I thank him and make my way through the French doors.
The balcony is large, tiled in stone, with wrought iron railings and a sweeping view of the estate grounds. Beyond the hills, I can just make out the shimmer of the Mediterranean. The overall picture is spectacular.
At any other time, I’d be thrilled to be here. But right now, I can’t shake the feeling that I should be running away… fast and far away. I can’t relax. Not yet. I haul in a deep breath and try to focus on what I need.
My fake passports are still with me—I had them in a waterproof pouch. But I lost my cell phone. And my clothes. I have a bit of cash. A couple of fake credit cards linked to the aliases on the passports. As long as the identities hold, I’m okay. I figured I’d have twelve days aboard the freighter. My father would know I was missing after four days or so, but I’d figured the extra time on the freighter would allow me to get far enough away that he couldn’t find me.
But now? He’ll know I’m missing in no time. Originally, I’d bought myself until Monday. It’s Friday now. Two days. That’s it—assuming the freighter exploding in the harbor buys me that much time. He might already know Renzo had a shipment onboard. If my father’s still dealing behind the scenes—and I’m certain he is—then he’s doing it for Malrick. Which means that Renzo’s cargo might tie into all of this. What if Malrick is behind the explosion? He hates the Valdicis. I shake my head. I don’t want to think about that.
Back to the plan: I can escape. If I can get to Nice, I can catch a flight. I just need two things—a cell phone and a car. I’m sure I can find a bag, something to pack the clothes in. That’s a start.
I jump slightly when Carson appears beside me with a tray. “I’m sorry, Miss Benedetti” he says.
I wave him off. “My fault. Daydreaming. I didn’t hear you come up. Please, call me Luna.”
He nods politely, but his smile tells me he’s never going to call me that. I mentally shrug. Whatever. He can call me whatever he wants if he keeps bringing me life-saving coffee like this. The aroma is heavenly. I take a sip, and find it tastes every bit as good as it smells.
