who his mamma was, or who were the aunts. I wondered if it did not matter to him anymore. My heart hurt at the thought. He had been deceived his entire life, and then, after the woman he thought was his mamma had been killed, was left to deal with the truth of his birth.
I ran my finger up higher to a girl who seemed like the youngest. Another girl had her hand on her shoulder. “This one,” I said. “She is your mamma.” There was something wild in her eyes, something that the others did not have. Corrado had it, too.
“Mamma,” he said, copying my accent. “Or aunt. They are interchangeable for me now.”
“This is Luna?” I knew that was his mamma’s name, but the woman who raised him as her own was Emilia. I suspected she was the one with her hand on Luna’s shoulder. There was a connection between them that I could feel through the painting, like the artist had captured it.
It reminded me of the connection I had with Anna. She would have died to see me safe. There was no question of my love and loyalty to her—I would have done the same if our positions had been reversed.
He nodded but said nothing else.
“Your father,” I said, letting my hand fall. “Who is he?”
“I have no father,” he said. “There’s only the man who created me. Corrado Palermo.”
I narrowed my eyes at the name. Why would she name her son after the man who left them?
“Come, Alcina,” he said, holding out his hand. “You need to get used to this house.”
I took his hand and he led me down a long hallway. There must have been over twenty rooms, at least. “Will we be staying here long?”
“For a while. Until I get things settled.”
“Settled?”
“My place doesn’t have the security this one does.” He stopped at a door in a section of the house that seemed more secluded than the others, opened it, and then waited for me to enter first.
The furniture matched the rest of the house in style. Old world. All of our bags were placed around a vintage armoire that was big enough to hold a few bodies. A matching vanity held my cosmetic bags. An en suite bathroom was bigger than the casa I had occupied in Bronte.
“This is our space,” he said, his breath fanning over my neck. I felt chilled as he moved away from me, draping his jacket over a chair. “No one will bother us back here.”
“No one to hear me scream,” I said, smiling a little, but my heart raced.
His fingers trailed down my arm until he took my hand again, leading me toward a fireplace. It was brick and so wide that I could step inside of it. A gold mirror with a filigree design hung over the mantelpiece.
Corrado reached into the mouth of the fireplace, up behind the opening, and pulled out a skeleton key. He lifted it up so I could see. Then he told me to come forward and look at what he was doing. He inserted the key in a hole that was in the wall of the fireplace itself.
It looked like a decorative addition—there were eight of them.
He put the key into the fourth one. After the key clicked, he took it out and moved back. The wall rotated and opened up halfway.
He gestured for me to step inside. I was mindful of my head, but once through, it opened up to a room that looked almost identical to the one on the other side, except it did not have as much furniture.
A bed, a chair, and along the walls, weapons of all different kinds hung behind glass doors. It also had first-aid kits and a cabinet full of food and drink.
“Alcina.”
“Hm?” I turned to look at Corrado.
“Watch carefully.” He inserted the key back into the door, and it closed the entire way, leaving the key entry on our side. “Always put the key back here.” He placed the key in the same spot he had taken it from on the other side.
I stepped next to him, looking through a two-way mirror. I could see into the other room. I could not see into this room from the other side.
“This room is soundproof and bulletproof. If you ever find yourself in trouble, you hide in here, understood? There are keys in rooms that have gold doorknobs. The ones with crystal doorknobs don’t have them. Remember—you can’t see through gold. Crystal