Page 49 of The Seventh Circle
"And this Benedetto boy? Your employer? He approves of his enforcer leaving?"
I met his gaze steadily. "Lorenzo understands. He... supports my decision."
Something in Papa's eyes shifted, a knowledge I wasn't ready to name passing between us. He nodded slowly. "I'll consider it. For Enzo's education and your mother's peace of mind."
It wasn't a yes, but it wasn't a refusal either. I released a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. "That's all I ask."
Mama served dinner, and conversation shifted to Enzo's studies, but the idea of Milano had been planted. I caught Enzo sketching another cathedral in the margins of his notebook, and Mama asked casual questions about northern cooking. Even Papa mentioned a cobbler from Milano who'd once shown him a different stitching technique.
Seeds taking root. Nine days left to make them flower.
The next afternoon, I slipped away to Villa San Michele, taking a circuitous route to ensure I wasn't followed. The abandoned estate stood silent in the afternoon sun, plaster crumbling from its walls like dying skin sloughing off bone. I climbed through our usual window, listening for Lorenzo's footsteps.
The villa felt different each time we met—sometimes a sanctuary, other times a tomb waiting to seal us in. Today, dust motes danced in sunbeams through broken shutters, giving the decaying grandeur an almost holy quality.
"Tonio?"
Lorenzo's voice echoed from the upper floor.I found him in what must have once been a lady's sitting room, where faded silk still clung to the walls in patches. He looked exhausted, dark circles shadowing his eyes.
"I was beginning to worry," he said, crossing to me.
His embrace felt desperate, hands clutching at my shoulders as if I might dissolve into the villa's ghosts. I held him tightly, breathing in the scent of him—expensive soap beneath sweat and anxiety.
"Problems at home?" I asked when we parted.
"My father's taken control of my mother's villa." Lorenzo paced to the window. "He's assigned Paolo to oversee renovations—supposedly as a wedding gift for Sophia and me."
Cold dread pooled in my stomach. "How bad?"
"It cuts our funds by nearly half." He ran a hand through his hair. "I've other resources, but they're harder to access without raising suspicion."
I absorbed this, mentally recalculating. "I've begun preparing my family. Suggested Milano for Enzo's education and Papa's health."
"And their response?"
"Not immediate rejection." I leaned against the wall. "Papa senses there's more to it, but Enzo's excited by the possibility."
Lorenzo nodded. "That's something, at least." He hesitated. "You could still take them and go without me. If my family's suspicions make it too dangerous—"
"Stop." I crossed to him, gripping his shoulders. "We go together or not at all."
His eyes searched mine. "Paolo's watching me. I feel it constantly now."
"Has he said anything directly?"
"Nothing concrete. But at the Vitelli dinner last night..." Lorenzo shook his head. "His eyes never left me. And my fathersuddenly discussing wedding plans in specific detail, as if testing my reactions."
I pulled him closer. "Eight days. We just need to maintain the illusion for eight more days."
"Sophia suspects something too." His voice dropped. "She's perceptive. Said I was hiding something."
My hands tightened involuntarily. "Did you confirm it?"
"Of course not. But denying it only convinced her more." Lorenzo's laugh held no humor. "I'm surrounded by people who can sense my deception, while the one person I want to be honest with, I can barely see."
I led him to a dusty settee in the corner, pulling him down beside me. "Tell me about Milano. What you've arranged."
The change of subject eased some tension from his shoulders. "I've found a neighbourhood in the western part of the city. Working class but respectable. Far from any Benedetto connections. Three rooms above an old woodworking shop that's for sale."
