by Debra Dunbar
She pulled away, anxious eyes searching mine. “No! They took my phone away and I’m not allowed to leave.” She bit her lip. “I…I think I might know where he is, but I don’t want to say when someone might overhear us.”
Having recently been a teenager myself, I focused in on one part of her statement. “They took your phone? They probably read your texts. If he tried to contact you, they’ll know where he is.”
My heart stuttered. There would be no peace between these families if Bianca’s uncle killed Sergio. His words might have just been in the heat of anger. There was a big difference between fighting adults and fire-bombing a villa, and murdering a teenager.
She lifted her chin. “They wouldn’t. We had a code, and spoofed our numbers so it looked like different people were texting each time. I’m not a fool. I knew very well what would happen if I got in trouble and Grandmother searched my phone.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding. “Good. Sergio is most likely safely holed up somewhere away from his mother, then. It’s probably best if you didn’t try to see him for a while,” I told her, worried that she might lead her family to the boy. Maybe I could act as an intermediary, though? There had to be some reassurance she wanted to send to him, and I know she’d rest easier if she knew he was safe and unharmed.
“I’m confined to the castle grounds.” She moved back a few steps and lifted her hands with a frustrated sound. “I couldn’t stop them. They knew I’d been injured. I told them it was my fault, but they wouldn’t listen. Grandmother was furious. She sent Uncle Marcus and the others last night and confined me to my room. And now everything is ruined. My life is ruined. I’ll never be able to see Sergio again. I’ll never be able to see my villa again. I’ll probably go through the Melancholy and die before I’m twenty.”
She had very real concerns, but I still bit back a smile at the familiar drama. “I’m trying. I don’t know that I can do much to help you and Sergio, but I’ve come to a deal, a cease fire, with the Sommarivas and I want to talk with your grandmother to see if I can do the same with your family.
Her eyes widened. “A cease fire? How can that be? We have attacked them, destroyed some of their treasure. They will retaliate.”
“They’ve promised not to.” I looked over at the other seminar attendees filing into the dining room. So much for my hopes of getting this apprenticeship. I wouldn’t even have a respectable score on the tests at this rate. But peace between these two families was more important than whatever faint chances I’d had at getting this job.
“Will your grandmother see me?”
She smiled. “She most certainly will. I told her last night about how you and Irix came between me and Daniela, and how you sheltered me and kept me safe. One of the reasons I came out is because she is eager to thank you.”
Instead of heading into the house, Bianca turned and led me to a tiny chapel in the front courtyard. It was small, a private sanctuary that didn’t look big enough to hold more than six or eight worshippers—or one dragon.
Catarina was in human form, seated on a wooden bench at the front of the chapel. She was clearly lost in prayer, but rose when she saw us.
Prayer? They were dragons, yet they had a little Catholic chapel for private devotions, and she was tucking a rosary into her pocket. It reminded me of all the human blood that flowed through their veins, that at this point, they were just as much humans as they were dragons.
They were half-breeds. Like me. We were all learning to deal with conflicting urges and all the different parts of ourselves. Just as I didn’t fully fit in with full elves or full demons, these dragon hybrids must feel the same—no longer fully the dragons who had escaped here a thousand years ago, nor fully human enough to feel truly a part of the society they lived in. I’d been so lonely, a weird half-breed surrounded by those not like me. In spite of having their family around them, they must feel the same.
Family. No wonder they clung so closely to each other. They’d adapted from the solitary dragons that Sparky had claimed them to be and developed close-knit family groups. Surely it couldn’t be so difficult for them to also let go of grudges. How much larger would their “family” of half-breeds be if they could just accept each other as like themselves.
“You are Amber?” The woman asked as she approached, her hands outstretched.
I placed my hands in hers, noting her cool, soft skin contrasting with the broad metal bands of her rings.
“I wanted to thank you as well as your demon fiancé for helping my granddaughter yesterday,” she continued. “Not just by intervening in Bellagio, either. Providing sanctuary for her in your home was brave. I know we are intimidating, and so few humans have the fortitude to confront us. For a human and a demon to defy more than a dozen dragons to protect a girl… You and your fiancé have truly earned a place as friends of the Montenegros.”
Bianca hadn’t told her. I caught the girl’s eye and lifted an eyebrow, wondering why she’d kept my secret.
“We would hardly leave an injured teenage girl naked on the streets of Bellagio,” I replied in a lighter tone. “And in spite of her anger and her words, I don’t believe Daniela would have seriously harmed Bianca.”
“I was to blame, Nonna,” Bianca spoke up. “I was in their territory. And she caught me with her son. I hit my head when I fell—that was an accident. But with the pain, I shifted to my dragon form, and I truly believe Sergio’s mother saw that as an attack. Her son was there. She moved to protect him.”
Catarina made a low noise in her throat. “I do not blame her for impressing on you the folly of trespass, but you are not some seductress enchanting her oh-so-innocent son. What’s done is done as far as your mate-bond. I’m equally unhappy about the situation, but I’d hardly attempt to kill a man my beloved granddaughter now considered her treasure.”
“She wasn’t trying to kill me,” Bianca protested.
The woman’s eyes narrowed, her pupils elongating slightly. I was suddenly very aware that my hands were still clasped tightly in her own. “That burst of dragon fire could have killed you had you not moved. You’re lucky you only bear superficial burns. Witnesses say she did intend you great harm. I’m sure she was acting rashly out of emotion, but no matter how she might have regretted your death, that shot was meant to kill.”
“Grandmother–”
“No.” She released one of my hands to waive Bianca’s protest away. “And she shoved her son behind her, not because she was afraid you would hurt your beloved—as if that were ever possible—but because she didn’t want him to intervene and be hurt in the fight between you two. Your kind heart and your love blinds you, my dear. This boy may be young enough to have retained his innocence, but the other Sommarivas have not. They are our enemies. They are guilty of a murder attempt on one of our young. They are guilty of my son Guido’s murder. One I was willing to overlook, in spite of the great pain it caused me. The other I could not. I know you grieve over the loss of your villa and your mate, but you will heal. And you will eventually have my treasure to call your own.”
“But they didn’t kill Guido,” I interjected. “His death was not at their hands. His presence bothered them, but the whole time he lived there, from the moment he bought the villa, they never made a move on him. In fact, the elder Mr. Sommariva claims they had some kind of odd friendship where he would meet up and play backgammon with Guido. The Sommarivas may be guilty of many things, but not the death of your son.”
Catarina blinked down at me, her eyes still in that weird transition phase between human and dragon. “How could you know such a thing? You have only just arrived this week, and do not understand how things are between dragons. They could lie to you and you would not know it.”
“Why would they lie to me?” I pressed. “They have no reason to do so. They didn’t kill Guido. Daniela bitterly regrets her attack on your daughter. And in spite of the damage you’ve done to their treasure, they wish to propose a peace. They will allow Bianca to l
ive in peace in her villa and not attack her if she strays into their territory as long as she is respectful and doesn’t make any attempts to steal or harm their treasure. They will not retaliate for last night’s attack on their villa. All they ask is that you do the same—that you cease all attacks on them, and that if Sergio is found in your territory, you do not harm him.”
Catarina hissed. “That boy is not welcome in our territory. He will not come near my treasure.”
“Well, he is welcome in my territory,” Bianca cried out. “My treasure is his. He can stay at Villa Montenegro. And I’ll have you know the moment I inherit, Grandmother, he will also be welcome here.”
“That, he will not,” a deep voice commanded. I pulled my other hand from Catarina’s and turned to see Marcus. The chapel suddenly felt suffocatingly small. “You may entertain whom you choose at your own villa,” he snarled, “but not here. And I warn you that inheritance rights or not, you will soon find yourself ousted as the matriarch of this family if you insist on ramming a Sommariva down our throats.”
“He’s right, Bianca,” Catarina said in a more soothing tone. “There’s a good chance you’ll be taking on this family while you’re still young and not fully into your own powers. You’ll need the support of these distant cousins as you have no siblings or immediate family of your own. Your Great Uncle Marcus can only do so much to hold them back if you disrespect them so.”
“Surely you wouldn’t stand by and watch them kill me?” Bianca asked her uncle.
I shivered, seeing something deep in his eyes that I didn’t like. Catarina was right. I knew nothing of dragons and their society, but I got the feeling that if Bianca stepped over the line, Uncle Marcus wouldn’t have any problems standing by while the others killed her.
“Of course not. But how long do you think the two of us could hold out against all the others? Some night in our sleep, we would find our throats slit, and that boy of yours as well.”
Catarina shook her head. “No. That cannot happen.” She turned to Bianca. “Darling, I ache for your pain, truly I do, but you must face the reality of your situation. You’ve given your heart to one who is an enemy of our family. Openly acknowledging your relationship, or bringing him here, isn’t possible. I’m not saying to give him up—I know how impossible that is with a life-mate—I’m just telling you that you must be discreet. Over time, everyone will ignore what they must know goes on outside of our territories and in private, but they’ll let you both be if neither of you demands your mate be acknowledged as part of our family.”
“I won’t sneak around, living my life as a spinster because my family are bigoted old fools,” Bianca declared hotly.
Catarina waved her protest away and turned to me. “We accept the peace terms that the Sommariva clan proposes. We will not attack them as long as they do not attack us. We will respect their territorial boundaries as long as they respect ours. If Sergio Sommariva is seen in our territory, we will bloody his nose and send him home, but we will not kill him unless he makes a habit of his trespass.” She turned to walk out of the chapel, then stopped at the doorway to turn around. “And please tell Daniela that I appreciate her allowing Bianca her treasure. I know that was not an easy concession for her to make, and it shows me that she is truly remorseful about the attack in Bellagio.”
“Or she wants Bianca close enough to easily kill her,” Marcus added with a growl. “Do not trust them, Catarina. This peace offering is a ruse.”
Catarina’s shoulders drooped. “Probably, but one of us needs to have faith, and I’ve decided it will be me. It is my treasure that is at risk here, after all.”
Chapter 22
I hustled into the seminar room, well aware that every eye turned to watch me make my way to my seat.
“Where were you?” Eva whispered.
“The chapel,” I whispered back, not wanting to tell her that the Montenegros had been there as well. Celio was listening in, and I knew he’d immediately think I was somehow trying to schmooze the family into giving me the apprenticeship no matter what my scores on the test were.
“The chapel?” Eva chuckled. “Great idea. I’ve done everything else to help me win this thing. I’d appreciate some divine intervention right now.”
“Prayer won’t take the place of study,” Celio sneered. “Neither will sleeping with the presenters and judges or trying to ingratiate yourself to the Montenegro family.”
“Shhh,” Marta hissed with a glare that effectively stopped our conversation.
I sat, fuming, not able to concentrate at all on what the presenter was saying. Celio was such an ass. Gah, I hated that guy. Hated him.
Then I remembered what Irix had said and shot the Spaniard a side-glance. He was ignoring me. Pointedly. So I closed my eyes and opened myself up to his fantasies.
Yikes. All he was thinking about right now was bashing my head against a stone wall until my brains leaked out. So much for Irix’s theory, unless Celio were some psychopath who liked having sex with women he was violently murdering, the man wasn’t harboring a secret attraction to me.
And now he was thinking of winning the apprenticeship while I failed miserably and was a crying heap on the stairs. In this fantasy, he kicked me as he walked by. Then I reached out and grabbed his leg, begging him to teach me all he knew about wine, to share his superior knowledge, even though I was too stupid to understand any of it.
Pretty, but dumb. Because it would be an unfair world if someone were to be as gorgeous and sexy as I was and smart, too. He’d not lose to the bimbo. And I had to be a bimbo. He’d worked his whole life for these opportunities. What would it say about him if some no-name, inexperienced American with nice tits and a pretty face bounced in and won?
Wait. Now we were getting somewhere. I had nice tits. I was gorgeous. And he needed me to be dumb, needed to hate me, because for someone whose only experience with wine was a summer internship to win over him would mean that he wasn’t as smart as he’d hoped, that all his work over the last decade would be for nothing.
It wasn’t about me. It was about him. It was about Celio’s fears that his hard work wouldn’t pay off in the end, that getting ahead was less about dedication and perseverance and more about having a pretty face and a nice set of tits. I hadn’t exactly helped with my smug attitude that first day, or by having sex with one of the presenters. Maybe if I tried to be nice to Celio, to acknowledge that his knowledge and experience were far beyond mine, he’d stop fantasizing about bashing my head into a wall.
We broke early to allow us all time for study and tasting as a group. Everyone sat around with their notecards, quizzing each other. After an hour, others moved into the tasting area while Eva, Marta, and I talked about what we were going to suggest for the Muscat grapes. I told them about my sparkling wine. Eva was planning a dry Moscato similar to those DiMarche had been doing. Marta was going to propose a dessert wine, but was concerned she’d lose points since she was planning to add a few other varietals in addition to the grapes grown in the vineyard.
I glanced over at Celio. “I wonder what he’s going to suggest?”
“A sweet wine like what I’m planning,” Marta said. “He’s addressing the sweetness through a different yeast strain and added fructose late in the fermentation. I dislike adding sugars and the yeast strain he’s wanting to use will lead to a very light alcohol wine—too light in my opinion.” She shrugged, looking very French at the moment. “It is what it is. I’m proposing the addition of Muscat of Alexandria and Orange Muscat and that may throw me out of the running.”
Eva nodded. “I wanted to add Zibibbo in with the Muscat Blanc, but decided against it for that very reason. I’m using a different yeast to try to get the wine drier and the alcohol content close to twelve percent.”
They made my recipe sound so basic, like I was a hobbyist with a jug of store-bought grape juice and a packet of bread yeast. This was where I was the weakest, since I had no background in winemaking at all. If I were to have
any chance at winning this thing, I’d need to make up the difference with a high score on the written test and on the tasting.
And I knew how much I sucked at the tasting portion. Looking down at my notecards, I decided I’d study them later, and do what I could to hone my ability to identify wine by taste.
“Does anyone want to quiz me on tasting?” I asked, hoping I didn’t get stuck with Celio again.
Marta smiled. “I’ll help you.”
She coached me through six wines, gently correcting me, and asking me questions along the way to help me come to the correct answer. Honestly, I learned more in the hour I spent with her than three days of lectures at this seminar. She was patient, kind, and encouraging. Everything that jerk Celio was not.
The room started to clear out as everyone went home, and I thanked Marta for her help, feeling much more confident about tomorrow than I’d been earlier in the day.
“I think you have a good palate, Amber, and you clearly are very smart about detecting wine and grape components,” she reassured me. “This is just new to you. Once you start to link what is on your tongue with the terms and information you’ve just learned you’ll be a top-notch sommelier, or enologist, or vintner. You have a natural talent, and I’m impressed by how quickly you’ve picked all of this up.”
I beamed, thanking her again, and looking over to glare at Celio. I wasn’t a bimbo. I’d show him, that ass.
Marta chuckled. “Don’t pay him any attention. The competition here is very intense, and he sets very high standards for himself. He has had to work very hard for every job, every recognition, and he is frustrated by the ease with which those with natural talent learn what takes him so much more effort to do. I admire Celio. He is dedicated, and not afraid to work very hard for what he wants. He has talent, but not the natural talent that you do. It bothers him to think that you might achieve in a few months what has taken him years.”
