estate.
***
The afternoon sun stood high, raising the temperature by a few more
degrees. By the time we made it back it was 5 p.m. and still hot as a desert.
I lay down on my bed as Sylvie changed into her bikini, eager to deepen
her tan. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” She was standing in the middle
of my room, slapping half a bottle of sunscreen on her already tanned body.
I shook my head, wincing at the jolts of pain blurring my vision. “No,
you go and have fun. I’ll just sleep this off.”
A worried frown appeared on her face. “Want me to get you anything?”
“I’m fine.” I managed a fake smile and shooed her out the door.
“It must be the heat. If you need anything, just call.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” I whispered, leaning back against the cool satin
sheets. Sylvie was right. I most certainly wasn’t accustomed to the Italian
weather. In the silence and the serenity of this place, my dizziness slowly
cleared until I felt confident enough to stand.
I pulled the brocade curtains aside. The sun was setting in countless
shades of orange and copper streaking the evening sky. From the distance, I
could make out Sylvie’s naked legs on an outdoor lounger facing the lake, her
face obscured by a huge straw hat. Shrugging out of my skirt and into a pair of
jeans, I figured I could either join her or do what I’d been waiting to do ever
since Jett told me about the club. If it was the truth, there had to be some
evidence somewhere.
This was my opportunity. I walked down the stairs, passed the kitchen
and the living room, reached the door to the backyard, and stepped out into the
fragrant evening air. My heart began to hammer against my ribcage, which was
silly. The property was built on a hill, surrounded by thousands of acres of
land. Even if I stumbled upon the one place mentioned in Jett’s reports, it was
most unlikely I’d discover what others had already found when they combed the
estate in Alessandro’s absence—and lost again. But the chapel, where
Jett’s private detective had once located Maria Lucazzone’s diary, was my only lead.
Lost in my thoughts I scanned the area. According to Jett’s report,
Alessandro had hundreds of miles of vineyards, forests and fields, not
including the beautiful backyard. Standing here on the foot of the stairs, I
couldn’t stop being impressed. The garden—although a little
neglected—was still stunning, with tiny gravel stones building a strong
contrast to the myriad of blooming flowers, and with palm and needle trees
shielding the estate from prying eyes. This side of the house
was surrounded by woods and mountains as far as I could see. I figured
if someone wanted to hide a chapel, the tall trees would make it impossible to
spy. It was the perfect place if you sought privacy.
I crossed the backyard and climbed down the steep stairs snaking toward
the woods. I didn’t have to look very far. Behind the huge palm trees and a
dried up stone well, I could make out a gray building barely the size of a
garden shed. If it wasn’t for its old fashioned stone walls and a hardly noticeable cross on the roof, I would have shrugged it off as
such. Maybe whoever built it meant to create a chapel that was inconspicuous. Or maybe, after Maria died, no one ever cared
to get rid of the overgrown vegetation obstructing the narrow trail leading to
it. Either way I didn’t mind fighting my way through the bushes.
I was almost there when I heard a female voice calling out my name. My
head snapped in the direction of the house.
“Brooke. Where are you? Help me.”
Judging from the urgency and choice of words, it sounded like an
emergency. The chapel would have to wait. Without a glance back, I dashed for
the house, my brain coming up with a million bad things that might have
happened.
***
“Fuck, Brooke. It hurts so much. I can’t stand it.” Sylvie was
hysterical, shouting from the kitchen bench. As usual she was
***
The afternoon sun stood high, raising the temperature by a few more
degrees. By the time we made it back it was 5 p.m. and still hot as a desert.
I lay down on my bed as Sylvie changed into her bikini, eager to deepen
her tan. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” She was standing in the middle
of my room, slapping half a bottle of sunscreen on her already tanned body.
I shook my head, wincing at the jolts of pain blurring my vision. “No,
you go and have fun. I’ll just sleep this off.”
A worried frown appeared on her face. “Want me to get you anything?”
“I’m fine.” I managed a fake smile and shooed her out the door.
“It must be the heat. If you need anything, just call.”
“Thanks, sweetie,” I whispered, leaning back against the cool satin
sheets. Sylvie was right. I most certainly wasn’t accustomed to the Italian
weather. In the silence and the serenity of this place, my dizziness slowly
cleared until I felt confident enough to stand.
I pulled the brocade curtains aside. The sun was setting in countless
shades of orange and copper streaking the evening sky. From the distance, I
could make out Sylvie’s naked legs on an outdoor lounger facing the lake, her
face obscured by a huge straw hat. Shrugging out of my skirt and into a pair of
jeans, I figured I could either join her or do what I’d been waiting to do ever
since Jett told me about the club. If it was the truth, there had to be some
evidence somewhere.
This was my opportunity. I walked down the stairs, passed the kitchen
and the living room, reached the door to the backyard, and stepped out into the
fragrant evening air. My heart began to hammer against my ribcage, which was
silly. The property was built on a hill, surrounded by thousands of acres of
land. Even if I stumbled upon the one place mentioned in Jett’s reports, it was
most unlikely I’d discover what others had already found when they combed the
estate in Alessandro’s absence—and lost again. But the chapel, where
Jett’s private detective had once located Maria Lucazzone’s diary, was my only lead.
Lost in my thoughts I scanned the area. According to Jett’s report,
Alessandro had hundreds of miles of vineyards, forests and fields, not
including the beautiful backyard. Standing here on the foot of the stairs, I
couldn’t stop being impressed. The garden—although a little
neglected—was still stunning, with tiny gravel stones building a strong
contrast to the myriad of blooming flowers, and with palm and needle trees
shielding the estate from prying eyes. This side of the house
was surrounded by woods and mountains as far as I could see. I figured
if someone wanted to hide a chapel, the tall trees would make it impossible to
spy. It was the perfect place if you sought privacy.
I crossed the backyard and climbed down the steep stairs snaking toward
the woods. I didn’t have to look very far. Behind the huge palm trees and a
dried up stone well, I could make out a gray building barely the size of a
garden shed. If it wasn’t for its old fashioned stone walls and a hardly noticeable cross on the roof, I would have shrugged it off as
such. Maybe whoever built it meant to create a chapel that was inconspicuous. Or maybe, after Maria died, no one ever cared
to get rid of the overgrown vegetation obstructing the narrow trail leading to
it. Either way I didn’t mind fighting my way through the bushes.
I was almost there when I heard a female voice calling out my name. My
head snapped in the direction of the house.
“Brooke. Where are you? Help me.”
Judging from the urgency and choice of words, it sounded like an
emergency. The chapel would have to wait. Without a glance back, I dashed for
the house, my brain coming up with a million bad things that might have
happened.
***
“Fuck, Brooke. It hurts so much. I can’t stand it.” Sylvie was
hysterical, shouting from the kitchen bench. As usual she was
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