"Language."
"You're not Mom." But she says it without heat, still staring at everything. "Nella, this place is insane. Like, actually insane. There's a fountain outside. A real fountain. With water coming out of it and everything."
"I noticed."
"And that guy who drove me? Valentino?" She lowers her voice, even though we're alone. "He barely said ten words the whole drive. Just kept looking at me in the rearview mirror like I was going to steal something."
"That's just how he is."
"He's terrifying." She pauses. "Also kind of hot, in a scary way. Don't tell anyone I said that."
"Gianna."
"What? I have eyes." She squeezes my hand. "Where's your room? Can I see it? Do you have your own bathroom? Please tell me you have your own bathroom, because sharing with Claudio has been a nightmare since you left?—"
I let her ramble. The sound of her voice fills the empty spaces in my chest, the ones that have been aching since I left home.
We climb the stairs together, and I point out landmarks as we go. The library where I spend most of my mornings. The dining room where the family eats breakfast. The hallway that leads to Bruno's wing, which I don't mention.
"This is you." I open the door to the guest room Giulia prepared. It's twice the size of Gianna's room at home, with a four-poster bed and windows overlooking the gardens.
Gianna stops in the doorway. Her mouth falls open.
"I could fit my entire bedroom in here," she says. "Twice."
"The bathroom's through that door. Giulia stocked it with everything you might need, but if you're missing something, just ask."
She turns to me, her expression suddenly serious. "Nella. What's really going on?"
"What do you mean?"
"Papa won't answer his phone. You married a stranger to save us. And now I'm staying in a mansion that looks like it belongs in a movie." Her voice wavers. "Something's wrong. I'm not stupid."
"Papa's working," I say. "He's busy establishing connections for the Sartoris. That's why he hasn't been answering."
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Bruno
Liam's name flashes on the screen.
"Talk," I answer.
"We lost him."
The words don't register at first. "What?"
"Eraldo Romano. He's gone." Liam's voice is clipped, professional, but I hear the tension underneath. "Threw away both phones we gave him. Ditched his security detail at the hotel. Surveillance footage shows him leaving through a service entrance six hours ago."
My hand tightens around the phone. "Six hours?"
"The detail didn't report it immediately. They thought he was sleeping. By the time they checked?—"
"He was already gone."
"Yes."
I end the call without another word.