He still said nothing, letting her voice whatever tormented thoughts crowded her mind.
“And I once thought he was the strongest being I would ever meet. I adored him, you know. The first time Andros snuck into my bedchamber, my husband was snoring in my bed, the fat pig. But Andros...”
A wistful smile touched her lips as she gazed into the past. “I had seen him at the banquet that night. He was so handsome. Strong. His dark hair was thick and his belly was flat. And no matter how much wine touched his lips, he did not grow drunk. I saw him looking at me, so I encouraged him. Why not?”
Her fingers stroked his skin, drawing damp circles as she reminisced.
“He snuck into our villa that night and fucked me against a wall as my husband snored beside us. It was magnificent.”
Though his stomach churned, Giovanni remained motionless and silent. At least she wasn’t stabbing him.
“When he finally brought a vampire to turn me, Andros tied my husband up and made him watch. That was even better. Andros fucked me and drained my blood, then my sire gave me his before Andros killed him so he would not interfere. He was nothing. A pawn. I was Andros’s mate. From the first night of my immortality, I belonged to him.”
Livia smiled and ran a finger across his throat.
“My first meal was my stupid, fat husband. I can still taste his blood. It tasted like revenge. While it wasn’t cold, thank the gods...” She bent down and whispered into his ear. “It was very, very sweet.”
Livia took both hands and traced along Giovanni’s arms.
“But you, Giovanni... Andros loved you. He adored you. Almost as much as me, I think.”
Far more, you stupid cow. Giovanni rolled his eyes.
She curled her lip and slapped him. “If only he had listened to me and killed you.”
Livia rose and stepped away from him. “Do you know who built this chamber? Your father did. I told him if he was determined to keep you, then he must build a chamber here that could contain you. I never trusted you, do you understand that? In five hundred years. Never.”
Giovanni sat up and looked around. So, this chamber was of his father’s design?
“He could be such a genius. Turning me. Using my human connections and my dead husband’s gold. Finding the book. We were made to rule, he and I. We would have ruled, if you hadn’t killed him, you stupid boy.”
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat silently, examining her. Finally, he opened his mouth to speak.
“The. Roman. Whore.”
She pulled a dagger from between her breasts, walked over, and stabbed him in the neck. Bending down, she whispered, “I will enjoy killing you. Then I will drink your blood and the blood of your little wife, you bastard.”
Livia spun and left the room as Giovanni sat stunned and blinking.
So, his father had built this chamber.
Giovanni pulled the dagger from his neck and pressed a sheet to the wound.
And Livia had left him a blade.
How generous.
Chapter Fourteen
Residenza di Spada
Rome, Italy
June 2012
It was late afternoon, and the house was buzzing with activity.
Ben and Dez were doing research into Bulgarian cosmetics companies and their not-exactly-public financial information. They were trying to determine who else might be funding Livia’s enterprise, or if she was in it on her own. So far, Elder Zhongli was the only other immortal they’d found any evidence of and, according to Tenzin, he was most decidedly dead.
Matt seemed to be making phone call after phone call in the downstairs study. She couldn’t tell whom exactly he was talking to, but Beatrice thought he was speaking French.
She could hear Carwyn and Ziri making plans downstairs in the library. Carwyn had an appointment to speak to someone at the Vatican about unrelated church business, and Ziri was speaking with Emil Conti about a visit to see Giovanni wherever Livia was holding him. Apparently, no one knew of Ziri’s connection to Beatrice or Stephen, so he could be presented as an impartial observer and gain access to the dungeons. Emil Conti was willing to play along.
Angela had been cooking all day. The whole house was suffused with the smell of herb bread, lemon, and fresh basil from the pesto she made.
If she listened closely, Beatrice could hear the soft rise and fall of Lucien’s breaths in the second floor guest room. He had been at the house for over a week and Beatrice was still surprised by how weary the simplest tasks seemed to make him.
Tenzin left just before dawn, saying she had some business to take care of and would take shelter with the Chinese delegation she would be joining with Elder Lu’s son.
So Beatrice sat in her empty bedroom, wearing one of Giovanni’s shirts she’d stolen from the laundry, and going quietly mad as another day passed without her husband resting in their bed.
Finally, she picked up the phone and called Los Angeles.
“Hello?”
“Caspar?”
“Beatrice, darling—Isadora, B’s on the phone.” She heard the quick shuffle of feet and her grandmother picked up the other line.
“Mariposa?”
Beatrice smiled just hearing her voice. “Hey, Grandma.”
“How are you, dear? Matt called us a few days ago, and Dez called us yesterday, but they didn’t seem to know much.”
“No change, really.”
“But it’s been over a week now! Has anyone been to see him? Does he get a—a lawyer? A doctor? Is there anyone that you can call or petition?”