Of volume lineage

“Little principessa?”

“That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“Don’t call me that,” she snapped. “It’s–that was my sister.”

Sister? I recalled that Vitale and Maria had lost a child before having Isabella but that was all I knew. No point filling my brain with facts about the dead.

“Very well.”

The waitress brought over our second meal, interrupting our conversation. I watched Isabella over the table, who was trying not to meet our eyes. It would be disruptive having a woman such as Isabella in my house; I knew without asking her that she wouldn’t follow schedules, orders and habits.

She will learn to, I thought. Isabella will adapt to me. I will not adapt to her.

“I know why the restaurant is strange to me,” she said suddenly.

I inclined my head.

Her eyes roamed over the empty tables and high ceilings. There was a misery to her expression that I hadn’t seen yet. Another emotion, I thought, already exhausted by the implications of that. “It’s sad.”

For the first time in a long time, I felt a flicker of surprise in my chest. “Sad?”

“There’s no chatter, no laughter. I can’t people watch or salivate over their meals. Restaurants aren’t meant to be empty. It’s sad.”

I thought about the blue paint behind her ear. “It’s just a building.”

Isabella looked at me like she was suddenly perplexed by me. I was not the one giving characteristics to inatimate objects.

I continued, “As I explained earlier, I go to great lengths to keep my identity a secret. You will adjust to sad buildings–as you refer to them–and then they will no longer seem so bizarre to you.”

“No,” she said. I arched my brow; not a lot of people disagreed with me so openly. “It’s sad, there’s no other explanation. Maybe I’ll buy you a disguise so that we can go to a crowded restaurant, and I can show you what I mean.”

“Disguise? Should I expect a moustache and pair of glasses?”

Isabella’s entire face brightened, lips stretching into a grin. Like her anger, she wore her happiness obviously and clearly. “Was that a joke, Giova

“No.” Had it been? I would have to ask Leonardo. “How is your meal?”

“Delicious.”

The rest of the meal passed with little incident. She continued to leap from happiness to anger to a

As I escorted her back to the car, I caught Luigi sparing a glance at her chest. Lust flickered in his eyes before he quickly looked away.

Isabella was oblivious, wrapping her fur shawl around herself, and shuddering when the icy wind hit her. “I can’t wait until it warms up,” she chatted away. “I love the snow, but I can’t stand the cold.”

“It’s more bearable when you bring a coat and not an oversized scarf.”

She cut her eyes to me, wrapping the fur around her tighter. “I’ll wear whatever I want, the earth’s elements be damned.”

We slid into the car, Isabella immediately grabbing the roses and laying them on her lap. I didn’t speak to her until the car pulled up in front of her building. I caught her roaming eyes glancing at my cell phone when I palmed it, but she didn’t ask any more questions about the organization.

“Thank you,” she said, hugging the bouquet to her. “I had a nice time.”

“We are no longer strangers,” I replied. There would be no more indulging or di

Her brows furrowed. “I guess not.”

She opened the door, but I caught her wrist, freezing her in place. She snapped her head to me, eyes wide.

I pressed my fingers behind her ear, right over the streak of paint. “My eyes are a lighter blue.”

Her mouth dropped, cheeks turning red. She rubbed behind her ear, going an even brighter shade when flecks of dried paint came away. “I wasn’t–I mean…I–”

“Goodnight, Isabella.”

Isabella jumped out of the car, almost losing her footing, before storming into the building. She kept her head held high, even if her face was the same color as her dress.

“Jacopo, go with her. I want a word with Luigi.”

My driver didn’t hesitate, sliding silently from the car and following Isabella into the building. He would deliver her straight to her uncle.

Luigi swallowed. “Everything okay, sir?”

I tugged off my gloves. “It will be.”

When Jacopo returned, he didn’t blink at the mess. Only asked, “Shall I have the paintings she created destroyed, sir?”

“Yes.” I straightened my cuffs, settling my body. Adrenaline thundered through my veins as it always did after a kill. It was the same sensation I got during sex. “You will have to reupholster the seats, Jacopo. The leather’s destroyed.”

“Very good, sir.”