Page 24 of Vengeful Vows

Thousands of people, families and tourists alike, wander along the sidewalks, intermixed with beautifully dressed women and couples heading out for evening activities.

I wonder if Sergio is patiently giving me a tour of the entire length of the Strip, but he pulls in front of the city’s newest and most expensive resort, the Bella Rosa.

In the late afternoon sun, the gold leaf on the welcome sign seems to glitter and glow.

Shocked and more than a little awed, I look at Marcello. “Are we staying here?”

“Where else?”

He can’t be serious. I’ve never been here before, and even if I had, it wouldn’t matter. Supposedly, the place has been sold out since the day it opened. I don’t even know of anyone who’s managed to secure a reservation, though many of my friends have tried.

Sergio opens my door, and when Marcello alights and takes my hand, he tips his head to the side. “After all, the place shares your name.”

By now, his lifestyle shouldn’t surprise me, but when he tells me that our luggage will be seen to and we bypass check-in entirely, then enter an elevator that is seemingly waiting for us, I blink anew.

Who are you, Marcello Donati?

After we’re in the car, Sergio enters, facing forward, his back to us. Nico touches a button marked PH 1, and we rocket up so quickly that I’m forced to bend my knees.

Before I can reach for the side rail, Marcello wraps his arm around my waist to steady me. “This is powerful enough to count as one of the city’s attractions,” I say.

“It is.” He grins. “But it’s one that’s rather exclusive, I’m afraid.”

I’m sure that what he says is true. “How high are we going?”

“Fifty-three floors.”

It’s a good thing I don’t get vertigo.

Within seconds, we glide to a smooth stop, and we exit into a marble foyer. My legs still feel a little wobbly.

A plaque on the wall reads PENTHOUSE ONE, and there’s a screen below it that Marcello touches.

Almost instantly, there’s a soft click, and the door releases.

Sergio closes it behind us.

“Welcome to the Bella Vita,”a distinguished, disembodied male English voice greets us.“We’re delighted you’re here. I’m Sir Percival, your butler, and I’m at your disposal. Whom do I have the pleasure of serving?”

“Tell him your name,” Marcello encourages as Sergio moves through the space, opening doors, performing some sort of sweep that seems ridiculous given the security measures Marcello has already cleared.

“He’s waiting,” Marcello prompts.

Once again, I’m Alice, and this madness is Wonderland. “Hello, Sir Percival. I’m Bella.”

“A pleasure, Miss Bella. That’s a beautiful name, if I may say so. The same as the resort even. Bella Rosa.”

“So I’ve been told, and thank you.”

“If there’s anything I can do to make your stay more comfortable, please ask.”

“Uhm… Thank you?”

“And do I recognize your voice?—”

“Marcello,” he interjects. “Marse Donati.”

Silence seems to ricochet off the walls.

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