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I go to the door, stepping into the hall. I make my way down the stairs where servants are bustling about. I see Roberta and wave her over. In my broken Italian, I ask her if Luca is arriving home.
"Si." She guides me to a room off the back of the house. It has gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking his estate and the ocean beyond. She says something in Italian but uses her hands, pumping in a downward motion that I take to mean that I can wait there.
"Grazie."
When she leaves, I go to the large windows, noting there is a door to the outside terrace. I picture being in this room with Luca, talking and enjoying the view on cold, stormy nights, but sitting out on the lovely terrace on days like today.
A movement off to the left catches my attention. I see Luca with three men. Two of them appear to work for him, and the third looks like a poor homeless man. They walk toward another building on the property. I wonder what's going on.
The homeless man keeps looking around, often turning and gazing up toward the house. Finally, Luca stops him. I can't see Luca's face, but whoever this man is, he’s definitely in the wrong place at the wrong time.
All of a sudden, Luca whips out his gun and presses the barrel to the man's forehead. I gasp, bringing my hands to my lips to keep from crying out.
What is he doing? He's not going to kill the man simply for wandering onto his land, is he? The poor guy looks like he needs food, a bath, and to be taken to a homeless shelter.
The man drops to his knees, bringing his hands together in a pleading motion. My heart goes out to him. He must realize who he's dealing with. Luca is probably just scaring some sense into him so that once he sets the man free, he won't return.
A loud bang sounds, reverberating all the way to me and into my chest. The man crumples to the ground.
"My God." I recoil as Luca turns and makes his way toward the house. I know it is Luca, and yet he doesn't look like the man I know. His expression is fierce, his eyes are dark, almost dead looking. As he moves closer, he runs his fingers through his dark hair, and his expression morphs, softens into the Luca I know. It's like he's removed one mask and put on the one I recognize. But I cannot unsee what I just saw. Luca is cruel and merciless.
I rush out of the room toward the stairs. Roberta intercepts me. She must see that I'm upset. She cocks her head and speaks to me in Italian, but I have no clue what she’s saying.
"He just killed somebody." I make a motion with my thumb and forefinger like a gun, bringing it to my head.
She seems to understand what I'm saying, but the confusion in her expression suggests she doesn't know why I am upset. I push away from her and make my way up the stairs into my room, shutting and locking the door.
I find my bag in the closet and began packing the clothes I'd only just unpacked minutes ago. Fortunately, I don't have that much, and everything is back in my bag within minutes. The next task is figuring out how I get out of here. I doubt I can simply walk out. Luca's villa sits in the rural countryside, not in the middle of a large city like Niko's does. Once I got out of here, where would I go and how would I get there?
A knock on the door startles me.
“Aria? It's Luca. Open the door so I can properly welcome you to my home."
I swallow and glance around the room, seeking an escape. "No."
"Is there something wrong, Mio Angelo? Open the door and tell me what the problem is."
I don't say anything. Instead, I go to the window, wondering if I can get out that way. It’s on the second floor, and I'm still stuck with not knowing how I would get off the property and to a place where I could get help. Then again, who would help? I imagine that Luca is known by everyone in the region, and no one would dare cross him.
Luca starts speaking Italian, and I get the sense he's speaking to someone else. A woman I recognize as Roberta responds.
"Fuck,” comes Luca’s response.
I learned long ago in my travels through Europe that the F word is universal.
"Aria. You will open the door. I will not be locked out of a room in my own house."
I can't say that his tone is angry, but it’s definitely firm. It is a command.
"I made a mistake. I want to go home,” I say.
There's a pause for a moment. "To do that, you'll have to open the door. Please don't make me open it for you."
I close my eyes, knowing I'd be an idiot to go against him. I hear Roberta speaking, and the knob jostles, and then the door pops open.
Luca says something to her in Italian, and she nods, scurrying away. He enters the room, and I rush around to the other side of the bed as if it's a barrier that will protect me.
For long moments, he stares at me. "What is the problem, Aria?"
