Chapter 17

I flung the door open and bolted into the corridor, the echo of swift, light footsteps striking from the left. Without thinking, I sprinted in that direction. A blur of movement female, a servant flashed past and vanished around the corner.

“Hey! Stop!” I called out, but she was already flying down the stairs into a dim, narrow passage. I followed, but she was too fast. “Please! I just want to talk to you!” I shouted after her, my voice bouncing uselessly off the stone walls. She didn’t look back.

She kept turning sharply, disappearing through hallway after hallway, and when I finally skidded into a fork at the end of the corridor, she was gone. Just gone. I spun in place. “Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, glancing left, then right. Nothing but dimly glowing bulbs casting long shadows and darkness beyond.

Somehow, I managed to find my way back to my room. I was half-shocked I hadn’t gotten lost in the winding halls. The note I’d left on the table still sat where I’d placed it. I picked it up and sat on the bed, staring at the message again.

The handwriting was neat, delicate each letter curved with a feminine flourish. It had to have been her, the servant girl. But what was she trying to tell me? That Gosto was planning to kill me? It didn’t make sense.

If Gosto wanted me dead, why save me from the council’s execution in the first place? Letting them carry it out would’ve been much easier. Unless, of course, he’d wanted my blood. But even that didn’t track Diamante had said he rarely needed to feed, and somehow I doubted he’d deck me out in silks and let me sleep in gold-threaded linens just to bleed me dry.

So why the warning? If that girl truly wanted to help me, couldn’t she have left something clearer than a cryptic note?

Then again… what if it wasn’t a warning at all? What if it was a cruel joke? I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the women working here resented the fact that the great Lord Santini had brought a human girl into his estate and expected everyone to treat her like a Lady of the House.

Maybe the note was meant to mess with my head make me anxious, make me run. But I already knew what would happen if I tried to escape. I wasn’t stupid enough to believe I could survive in the Underworld on my own. Those chances were less than zero.

Still, that damn note had gotten under my skin. My mind wouldn’t stop spinning with questions. Why me? I wasn’t stunning or charming. I was bitter. Broken. Scarred. Wouldn’t it make more sense to assume Gosto had a use for me rather than believe he was genuinely... captivated?

Of course, I wanted that to be true. I wanted to believe he cared. That he’d chosen me. That I mattered. But this wasn’t some fantasy romance novelthis was my life. Just because I now lived in a surreal world didn’t mean my story would turn into a fairytale.

I let out a long sigh. I needed to stop letting myself believe I could ever mean something to him.

No matter what that note said, I needed to be careful. I couldn’t trust anyone. Not even Diamante. She seemed honest but what if she wasn’t? What if she had her own reasons for lying? I needed to learn more. Only then could I tell who was truly on my side.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my thoughts. “Come in,” I called, eyes still on the wooden floor.

I expected breakfast. Maybe Diamante.

What I didn’t expect were heavy footsteps that moved with the confidence of someone unbothered by introductions. A pair of black boots appeared in my line of sight. My gaze lifted jeans snug over powerful thighs, a black shirt stretching across a broad chest and a tightly cut waist. Then up to his face.

Sharp jaw. Sculpted cheekbones. A Roman nose. Eyes the color of thunderclouds under thick black lashes. Tousled dark hair framed his face in a way that was unfairly attractive. And when he caught me staring, a slow, amused smirk curled his lips.

I leaned back, frowning. “Who are you?”

“Leandro Pessina,” he said, his voice warm and faintly amused. “Lord Santini assigned me to be your bodyguard.”

“My bodyguard?” I echoed.

He folded his arms, muscles flexing beneath the sleeves. “I’m to follow you wherever you go and keep you safe.” The hint of a smile danced in his voice, and I already didn’t like it.

“So, Mr. Pessina”

“Leandro,” he corrected without missing a beat.

I gave him a tight, polite smile. “Leandro. Are you going to be standing outside my door all day?”

He grinned wider. “Only if you want me to.”

I exhaled sharply through my nose and tried again. “So are you just planning to stand around in my room, or is there something more productive your assignment requires?”

He chuckled softly. “I could give you a tour. Take you to the center of Volterra City.”

“Volterra City?” I asked, intrigued.

He nodded. “Lord Santini’s estate is just on the outskirts right next to the Bosco Malombra Forest. Thought you might like to see something other than four walls and velvet curtains, Lady Domitilla.”

He had a point. I needed to see everything I could. Knowledge meant survival. “I’d like that,” I said, offering him the first real smile I’d managed all morning.

“Perfect. Where should we start?”

“Right here,” I said. “This place feels like a maze. I want to understand it.”

He bowed slightly, eyes narrowing as they swept over me. “Might want to change into something else first. I don’t mind, but…”

His gaze dropped to my legs.

Damn. I was still wearing my nightgown and an oversized sweater. Barefoot too.

I let out an awkward chuckle. “Of course. Wait outside I’ll get dressed.”

“Sure thing, Lady Domitilla,” he said, smirking.

I bit back a groan. “Just call me Domitilla… Leandro.”

He was already at the door, casting a glance back over his shoulder with infuriating charm. “As you wish, My Lady.” Then he chuckled again as the door clicked shut behind him.

I wanted to slap him. Gods help me, if he kept pushing that button, I just might even if it meant breaking my hand in the process.

“I’m ready,” I said, stepping out into the hall.

Leandro gave my white top, jeans, and sneakers a long, slow once-over before nodding. “Follow me, My Lady.”

I groaned. “Stop calling me that.”

“I think it suits you.”

“I told you to use my name.”

He shook his head. “Not in this house.”

“Why not?” I was close to snapping.

He gave me a lopsided smile. “Because someone might not like it if I did.” Then he leaned closer, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur. “He tends to be... possessive.”

My heart skipped. “Who?” I blurted, but he didn’t answer just gave me a knowing look that shut me right up. Gosto? Jealous? Ridiculous. But I didn’t argue further.

I followed Leandro silently through the halls. He explained the layout: my room was on the second floor, part of Gosto’s private wing. The first floor housed guest quarters, a pair of study rooms, and formal reception halls. The grand dining room where I’d once sat across from Gosto was tucked into the eastern wing of the ground floor. The kitchens sprawled across the central space, and the vast banquet hall took up the rest.

“Alright!” Leandro clapped his hands once we reached the arched front doors. “Depressing part of the tour’s over time for fresh air!”

He laughed, pushing the heavy doors open, and I smiled despite myself. I couldn’t wait to get outside.

But the moment I stepped through, I froze.

There, blocking my path, stood the last person I wanted to see.

Prince Anselmo.

His lips twisted into a sleazy grin. “Long time no see, Domitilla.”