Page 56 of When She Tempts (The Fallen)
“Does the castello have a name?”
He keeps his gaze on the fire as he answers. “Castello di Bosco. A long time ago, it was Castello di Fiero, but then there was a big fire that burned down the church that used to be on the property, and the owner at the time decided the name brought bad luck. He renamed it in 1782.”
“This place is ancient.”
Giorgio gives a small nod. “It has a lot of history.”
“How did you find out about it in the first place?”
He drags his teeth over his bottom lip, and I get the sense that he’s wrestling with how to answer.
Finally, he says, “My mother used to work here.”
My jaw slackens. That was definitely not the answer I was expecting.
“Really? I thought she was from Naples?”
“She moved to Naples when she was eighteen, but she grew up here. My grandfather was the groundskeeper here, and my grandma was one of the cooks. This was a long time ago. Tommaso and Allegra started working here a few years before my grandparents died.”
I look around the room and see it with new eyes. Giorgio’s entire family lived here at one time.
“And your mother? What did she do?”
“She gardened, like Polo. My grandfather homeschooled her. But like I said, she left when she was quite young. She was bored of this place and wanted to start a new life in Naples.”
“That’s amazing that you were able to buy it. Who were the previous owners?”
“A wealthy couple. The woman was a wine heiress, and her husband was an art collector. Old money. The castello was in their family for a long time until nearly all the relatives died out. It was never put up for sale. I told them a long time ago I would buy it if they ever decided to get rid of the place. About a decade ago, they called, and a few months later, it was mine.”
“Huh. So why did Polo say—” I clamp my mouth shut.
He turns to me, a spark of suspicion inside his eyes. “Why did Polo say what?”
I glance to the side, suddenly feeling awkward without being sure why. Didn’t Polo tell me to ask Giorgio about it? But this place is clearly very personal for him, and now it feels like maybe Polo shouldn’t have said what he said.
“Tell me what he said, Martina.”
“Um.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Well, he just mentioned you didn’t really like this place,” I say, softening Polo’s real words.
“Did he?”
“Yes.”
“He’s wrong. I like this place just fine,” he says in a clipped tone.
My face heats. There’s definitely something he’s not telling me.
“I must have misunderstood him.”
“Hmm.”
When the silence turns tense, I clear my throat. “Let me go check on the dessert.”
I return to the kitchen and crack open the oven. When I stick a toothpick into the dough, a few wet crumbs come out. I wait another minute and take it out.
Well, here it is. Time to execute the plan.
My palms land on the cool marble counter, and my gaze volleys to the pot of kava on the counter. The valerian is steeping beside it.
