his world views. But Luca…Luca has the desire to listen. I thought you should know.” He leaned his head back against the pillow and smiled at me.
“How many drugs are in your system?” I asked. “You’re far too levelheaded, and dare I say, docile?”
“Docile? Come here and I’ll show you docile.”
I shook my head. “The doctor said—”
“Hang the doctor. It’s been far too long since I’ve slid inside your—”
“I guess I have no choice but to go to dinner,” I said, rising off the bed before Hadrian could lean over and pull me to him. “It’s for your own health.”
Panting, Hadrian leaned back against the pillows. “Bring me dessert, aye?”
Angelo set down his near empty wine glass and looked at me. “Would you like to join Luca, Tor, and me in the sanctuary for after dinner drinks?”
“I’m pregnant,” I reminded him. “And I thought only men were welcome in the sanctuary.”
“I’ll have a servant bring you hot chocolate,” Angelo said, ignoring my snarky tone. “And as far as the sanctuary goes…there are some matters that need to be addressed and it’s where we do family business.”
“Can I come, Papà?” Gisella begged with wide eyes.
“Maybe when you turn eighteen,” he evaded.
With a feminine pout that would only refine with age, she got up from the table. She kissed her father’s cheek and then went to Luca and flicked his ear.
“Irreverent fragolina,” he teased.
She stuck out her tongue and then went to Tor, who she hugged from behind. Finally, she winked at me and then skipped from the dining room, leaving me alone with the Moretti men. I couldn’t believe she was the same young woman who’d given me a vial of poison I still wore around my neck. She was a chameleon—and then a terrifying thought entered my mind.
What if I had been wrong? What if it wasn’t Luca that was the most dangerous of all? What if Gisella had learned enough at her age to blend into any environment, moving seamlessly from one place to the next with no one knowing who she truly was at any moment?
I’ve underestimated her, badly.
The four of us retired to the sanctuary. The men took their seats—Luca on the light blue couch and Angelo in one of the highbacked chairs by the lit fireplace. I took the matching chair across from him. Tor poured three glasses of fifty-year old ruby port.
A servant knocked on the door and was told to enter. She came in and placed a silver tea tray in front of me on a wooden table. The aroma of hot chocolate hit my nose and I couldn’t help the sigh of appreciation.
“Thank you,” I told her.
She nodded and then discreetly left.
“The Foscari have been in contact,” Angelo said, breaking the silence.
Anger came swift and fast, but I shoved it down. There was no use discussing it. The fight was over. Hadrian had won. At a great cost to himself, but he’d won.
I was free.
“What did Lorenzo have to say?” Luca asked. He took a sip of his port, eyes on his father.
“They’ve confirmed it was the Borgia who sent the assassin to kill Hadrian. They’ve offered their aid in dealing with them.”
“What’s the plan?” Tor asked, his dark eyes glittering with the desire to deliver retribution.
“We’ll torch their ancestral home and kill Carlo. We’ll leave Carlo’s sons alive to bear the shame of their family name, but their business will move elsewhere, and they’ll be impoverished. We won’t hear from them again, and when it’s done, there will be only four families.”
“What about Francesca,” Tor voiced.
Angelo took a long swallow of his port before replying. “There will be another marriage…”
“Oh?” Luca asked, his cheeks suddenly flushed in the dim light of the sanctuary.
“Yes. You will marry her,” Angelo said. “It will keep the Borgia from retaliating.”
Luca stared at his father and for the first time since I’d known him, I felt like I was seeing who Luca really was. Hadrian’s words about my cousin came back to me.
A flash of anger and hatred burned in Luca’s eyes but disappeared just as quickly.
“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Luca asked, his voice tight.
“It’s past time you marry and do your duty in producing a Moretti heir.”
Father and son never took their eyes off one another. Finally, Luca raised his glass in the air. “To my future wife.”
Tor glanced at his brother, but then he drank the rest of his port in commiseration of his brother’s toast.
Luca finished his drink. “You’ll see