The Lost Centurion

by Monica La Porta

  “He’s right. I can drive twenty hours straight without any need to rest.” He patted her hand, then bent to brush it with his lips. “Greeks are built better.” After the pleasantries were exchanged, he walked the remaining steps to the wall, then stopped before it.

  She laughed. “Good to know.”

  Marcus felt bile climbing its way up to his throat, but breathed in and out a few times before acting like a child. “Let’s hurry. I can see the first light of day already.”

  Alexander knocked on the wall. Silently, a portion of it slid away and revealed a small hallway ending with a metal door. “After me, please.”

  Marcus gently pushed at Diana’s back and they entered the rectangular room.

  When Diana walked to the other end, Alexander called her. “Just a moment.” He knocked on the other side of the wall and the opening closed perfectly. “Now, you can go, sweetie.”

  Diana crossed her arms before her chest and rushed through the door Marcus kept open for her. He released the handle when Alexander stepped under the doorway.

  Alexander barely avoided the wooden door from hitting his forearm. “You’re an ass. You know that, right?”

  “Romans are built smarter.” He walked to the end of the hallway and entered the back of Villa Eloisa without waiting for its owner to do the honors.

  Once detached from the house proper, the garage had been connected to the main building by a corridor when Alexander had commissioned some remodeling to be done to the property. He had asked for the corridor to follow the incline of the terrain so that it wasn’t visible from the villa’s façade.

  “I asked Giovanni, my majordomo, to have the green apartments prepared for you and disappear when he was done. You’ll have plenty of privacy.” Alexander was a step behind Marcus.

  Marcus strode in the middle of the three-floor atrium, and only then realized he was being the ass. He turned and laid his hand over his friend’s shoulder. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have known where to go.”

  Alexander waved his left hand with a flick of his wrist. “Don’t mention it.” He then turned toward Diana. “I see that you’ve packed light. There should be something in your size in the armoire in your bedroom. Feel free to use anything you need.”

  Diana thanked him. She was still hugging herself, and Marcus wondered if she needed to feed again.

  “One floor up and to the right.” Alexander took the marble steps of the imposing double staircase two at a time, then strode to the right side of the overlooking balcony.

  From upstairs, the atrium was revealed in all its splendor. Marcus gave Diana a moment to take in the sight of the Murano chandeliers, the polished black-and-white marble floors, and the floor-to-ceiling windows draped in white damask curtains that stood over the aquamarine walls intermittingly covered in frescoes.

  “I’d never thought to visit a place like this one day.” Her eyes watered and her voice broke.

  Marcus’s throat closed and his stomach contracted at her words. He didn’t say anything, but took her hand and pulled her to him.

  The silver moonlight illuminated Diana, and her expression changed to one of joy. “Look. I’m showering in fairy dust.”

  He couldn’t help but smile.

  “Over here.” Alexander was at the other end of the big hallway, his hand over a door handle.

  Marcus gently squeezed her hand in his and started walking through a corridor that resembled a museum. Gilded tables and sitting areas were evenly spaced out along the way, and several big paintings were hung over the ornate chair rails on the creamy walls. There were no windows, but the size of the hallway, the glass blown Murano sconces, the antique mirrors, and the golden tones created an effect of luminosity that Marcus knew for a fact extended to the daytime as well.

  Alexander waited for them to catch up with him, then opened the minty-green door with a delicate bass-relief décor depicting a marine scene, and invited them into a warmly lit atrium with a flourish of his right hand. “The green apartments.”

  Chapter Six

  Diana covered her mouth with both hands. Before her lay a sight straight out of an interior design magazine. She was speechless. It wasn’t that she came from poverty, her family had never wanted for anything, and her grandmother had been wealthy, but Alexander belonged to a different social stratum altogether.

  The green apartments started with an atrium that resembled the one downstairs in layout and luxury of details. As the name suggested, the color green in several hues had been expertly applied to furniture and décor that extended to a second floor visible from the airy balustrade. A mix of antique and modern permeated the place. A spindly chair with a carved frame and a silk brocade cushion in sage green was matched with a reading fixture that was half wall light, half sculpture. The small table by its side was a slate of thick glass with an irregular edge jutting from the wall; on it, a wooden stand supported an antique book. Everywhere she looked there was a picture-worthy shot to be taken.

  On the first floor, several rooms opened into the atrium. The doors had been left open and she strolled around, glancing at them. She counted three bedrooms and two bathrooms, plus a full kitchen, and a living room. Every room had green details and windows looking at either the gardens or the sea. She noticed that bookshelves were everywhere, and the books all looked centuries old.

  “Please make yourself at home. Should you need anything, don’t hesitate to call Giovanni. His number is on speed dial.” Alexander showed Marcus the sleek, ultramodern phone on one of the coffee tables at the entrance.

  Marcus thanked his friend, then asked for something, but Diana wasn’t listening anymore, her feeding needs demanding her attention. She looked up, then to the stairway leading upstairs, but finally decided she would rather have some fresh air and walked to the big French doors opening into the opposite wall and exited onto the balcony. A wrought iron patio set was on her right, and she sat on the cream and minty green striped cushion of the loveseat. The moon was mirrored in the calm waters of the sea and the waves lazily crashed against the shore. For a moment, the sound of the pebbles dragged back and forth over the sandy bank and the salty breeze teasing her nose were all she could sense, and she thought she could forget her growing hunger. Then the shivering took over her and a sharp pain originating from her midsection made her bend to hug her knees. She spiraled down a vortex of ache. The moon and the waves disappeared.

  “I’m here.”

  Marcus’s scent anchored her back to the present. He offered her his wrist in a repetition of a gesture that was becoming familiar. She didn’t try to refuse. Instead, she latched to his vein and fed. As she had done during her last feedings, she started and finished in a few seconds.

  “Take more.”

  She raised her eyes to his and smiled. “I don’t need it.” She had made up her mind when she had drained him and left him on the verge of fainting. She would take only what she needed to survive, not a drop more.

  He gently caressed her cheek and she closed her eyes to focus on the moment. “Oh, little thing…”

  She liked the way he said it and the fact that he had a pet name for her.

  “You’re purring like a kitten.”

  Without having any recollection of having done so, she had leaned against his caress and jerked away at his words, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

  “I like it.” He raised her chin with a finger and brushed her forehead with the lightest of kisses.

  Diana stood still, afraid he would lower his lips to hers, terrified he wouldn’t. When she thought he was closing the gap, he sighed and brought her to his chest for a hug instead.

  “It’s almost dawn. We should find you a dark corner to spend the rest of the day.” He stood, held a hand out for her and waited until she took it. “Alexander says good-bye.”

  “Has he left already?” Diana had forgotten all about Alexander.

  Marcus squeezed her hand, but when she looked up at him, he smiled. “It’s safer if people don’t c
onnect that he and I disappeared the same night. Before he came to pick us up, he had a party going on at his house. Very few people will have noticed he was out the majority of the night. Everybody will think he was otherwise occupied.”

  “That kind of party, ah?” She knew all about those parties and was irrationally bothered by the idea that, as Alexander’s friend, Marcus would have partaken of the delicacies offered at those gatherings. Never mind that she had been one of the main courses in several occasions. “You’re right. His secret is safe.”

  He chuckled. “Yes, and Alexander is old fashioned in ways, he likes to throw bacchanalias like they did back in Rome.”

  “Bacchanalias you say?” A memory Diana had tried hard to repress resurfaced. She pressed one hand against her chest, her face buried in his shirt.

  “Are you cold?” His arms stroke her back up and down. “Are you hungry? I know you haven’t gotten enough sustenance in that little body of yours.”

  She shook her head without moving from the safe spot she had burrowed herself in.

  “What is it?” He waited for her to answer, but she could only shiver in his arms. “Was it what I said?”

  Diana forced herself to gain control over the images crowding her mind.

  “Did you participate in a bacchanalia? Did something happen to you at one of those damned parties?”

  She shook her head. The events that led to a vicious beating started with an invitation to a bacchanalia, but ended in a dark, dirty alley several blocks from her destination. She never reached what she now knew was Alexander’s Roman abode, and if it hadn’t been for Virgil’s help, she would have never seen another day. The marks on her skin had mostly healed, but she was still broken inside. Even after her burns had disappeared and her hair was ready to grow again, she had kept shaving her head as a reminder.

  “What happened to you?”

  She felt his soft kisses on her head, and his arms crossing around her back to fully envelope her in his embrace.

  “Little thing, were you hurt by one of your clients?”

  She heard his words rumbling through his ribcage, mixing with the unsteady rhythm of his beating heart. She could still feel the wounds on her body and sense the burnt smell of her hair. “I don’t want to talk about that night.” Or about all those nights her mother had left her alone with a man who should have treated her like a daughter and who eventually told her she was impure and unworthy of his attentions anymore.

  “That’s okay. You don’t have to.” He rocked her back and forth for a long while.

  “I think we should go inside.” The light of dawn was obscured by a few clouds moving in the sky and still too weak to cause her any harm, but where her skin wasn’t protected by Marcus’s strong embrace it had already blistered.

  He brought Diana at arm’s length, gave her a quick, assessing look, and his eyes widened when he took in the reddening spots on her upper arm. “Why didn’t you say anything?” With a swift gesture, he scooped her up and strode back inside, carefully keeping her shielded from the morning light by hunching over her.

  “It’s okay now.” Inside the apartment, she immediately felt the change in light and her skin stopped tingling almost at once.

  Marcus lowered her to the floor, but didn’t release her. “You should’ve told me. Look at this—” Keeping her arm before him, his eyes lingered over a red welt on her skin.

  She looked down at the small tiles composing a delicate mosaic design on the floor. “I didn’t want it to end.”

  “What didn’t you want to end?” When she didn’t answer, he laid his hands on her shoulders. “Look at me.”

  She heard the caring and gentleness in his command and obeyed him. “I was happy in your arms.”

  His mouth opened, but no sound came out, then his fingers slightly pressed on her skin. “Let’s find you a soft bed. You must rest.”

  They walked through the whole length of the first floor and entered the bedroom opposite the big French door leading outside.

  “This one faces the pines and it’s usually darker than the other rooms.” He let her in, then closed the door and walked to the windows to pull the venetian blinds and the curtains to darken the place. “I think it should work.”

  She could still see well in the pitch black he had created, but there was no light coming through from the outside. “It’s perfect. My skin is already healing.” She ambled through the room at ease and turned on the small night lamp for him. “This room is beautiful.” With a big wave of her right hand, she gestured to encompass the big place, its ceiling high enough for a loft.

  “I forgot about the window up there, but it seems it is already closed. Just let me check it is locked.” He headed to the small spiral staircase at his right, his hands out, scouting the place.

  “Do you need a brighter light?”

  “No, that’s okay.” He reached the mezzanine a few steps later.

  She couldn’t see him from downstairs; the loft was larger than she had estimated, but she heard him moving around. “This furniture looks different from the rest of the house.” Now that she had fed and contained the hunger, fatigue claimed her, and she half-sat, half-fell on the big bed covered in a pale aqua-green silk duvet.

  “Alexander went through a Far East phase a few hundred years ago. This bedroom was decorated with pieces that came from a bankrupted Chinese estate.” He reappeared, started down the stairs, then decided to jump the whole set of them.

  The image of a big, dark puma passed through Diana’s thoughts as he landed on his feet, legs slightly bent at the knees. She relaxed on the duvet, caressing the silk fabric which gave her more to think about in regard to Marcus’s black mane and how it reminded her of the feline. When he sauntered to the bed, Diana’s breath caught in her throat, and she grabbed one of the tube pillows with the fringes lying at her back.

  “This bed belonged to royalty.” He gave her a long stare, then pointed at one of the watercolors decorating the walls.

  Diana followed his finger and focused on the portrait of a girl with straight jet-black hair and almond shaped black eyes. “She looks so young. Do you know what happened to her?”

  “She was shipped here with the rest of her house and treated like the princess she was.” He hovered by the bed.

  “Did you meet her?”

  He took two steps back and toward the door. “I did. She was lovely and brightened the day of anyone who had the good fortune to be in her presence.”

  She felt a dull ache at his statement. It made her feel sad to think she would never be that person for him. “Did the two of you…?”

  He waited for her to finish the sentence, but she couldn’t find the rest of the words. With the hint of a smile, he shook his head. “Alexander doted on her as a daughter, and I was lucky she elected me as her putative uncle.”

  She heard the longing in his voice and a different pain took hold of Diana. “Did she like it here?”

  “She was a smart child and knew that despite her fate, she had been lucky in ending with Alexander. She could’ve had a worse life.” Marcus grabbed the wrought iron door handle shaped as a stylized leaf.

  Diana thought of her fate as a child. “She was lucky.”

  “In a way, yes, she was.” He lowered the handle and turned on his heels. “But I always thought Alexander was the lucky one.”

  She wondered about his wishful tone, but didn’t know how to go about asking what she wanted to ask. Finally, she decided to be direct. “Do you have kids?”

  He stilled, but didn’t face her. “No, I never had any children.”

  She hesitated before asking, “But you can still have kids if you want. Right?”

  He nodded, his shoulders shuddered, and he inched toward the hallway. “Have a good sleep.”

  “Marcus?”

  He stopped halfway out of the bedroom, his frame filling the space.

  She hugged the pillow, her stomach full of butterflies. “Stay.”

  He stood there,
the light from the atrium outlining him, his shadow almost reaching her bed.

  “Please?” She hated that her voice sounded weak. She had never accepted escort gigs where she had to play a submissive part and now she was begging for company.

  His head slouched toward his chest. “I need to take care of several things.” His hands were on the door frame and he propelled himself forward. “See you later.”

  ****

  Marcus closed the door behind and flinched when it swung on its hinges with more strength than necessary. He thought he heard Diana gasp and let himself fall to the floor, then leaned against the wall separating him from her. He had wanted to stay and spend the rest of the day watching as she slept in his arms. When he was near her, he forgot she was the enemy.

  The sun was rising and white warmth kissed his face, making him smile at the simple pleasure of it and reminding him he and Diana belonged to different races. Sunlight would heal him and kill her. He rose from the mosaic floor and went to the terrace. Seagulls chased each other, riding the thermals in long trajectories, their cries harmonizing with the undertow reshaping the beach below. Marcus swung his legs over the wrought iron balustrade painted a creamy white and perched on the narrow outer edge, looking more like a gargoyle than a man. His eyes closed, he filled his remaining senses with the sounds and smells pervading the early morning. Right between the end of the summer season and the beginning of fall was Marcus’s favorite time of the year to visit the Amalfi Coast. He wove his arms through the wrought iron fence and anchored himself to the building, raising his head to the sky.

  The muffled but distinct echo of hurried steps made him jump, and he yanked his shoulders. A moment later, he had freed himself from the iron constraint, and jumped back onto the terrace, but besides the wind playing with the foliage of the lemon trees, the birds’ calls, the crashing waves, and a few cicadas that hadn’t gone to sleep yet, there wasn’t anything else to listen to. He walked the whole perimeter of the terrace, back and forth twice, then a third time leaning over the balustrade in case he had missed any of the spots shadowed by the jutting structure of the balcony. When he was sure nothing was out of place in the gardens and the beach, he hurried back inside and walked straight to the princess’s bedroom. His fingers wrapped the door handle that had always felt uncomfortable in its beautiful design, but he didn’t lower it. Instead, he passed his left hand over his face, starting with his eyes and ending with his jaws and throat, feeling the stubble he hadn’t bothered to shave in a few days, now thick under his touch.