Starling (58 page)

dalena and Belladonna. Had they ever once agreed on a single thing?
They could barely speak without arguing. All they could do was
fight.
Or this.
Falco’s lips were tracing their way down her cheekbone now, a
slow, steady pressure that was weakening her resolve. With one hand,
he loosened the laces of her bodice. His mouth trailed lower. His
hand stroked her thigh and her hip through the fabric of her dress.
Cass trembled. If she just relaxed, Falco could make the pain go
away.
Temporarily.
She saw Luca’s eyes again. “Stop,” she said. She sat up suddenly,
yanking her stocking back up over her knee, backing away from Falco
on the bed as if he had attacked her. She couldn’t substitute Falco for
Luca. She couldn’t substitute a series of reckless romantic moments
for a life with someone honest and true. “This isn’t right.”
“If you want it, it’s right.”
“No,” Cass said. “That’s how
you
live. Not me. What I want now
may not be what I want tomorrow, Falco. My actions have consequences. It would be easier if they didn’t, but they do, and that’s why
everyone I love is gone.”
“I’m not gone.”
“I’m sorry,” Cass said. “You
should
go.”
Falco slid off the bed. “You will always be a prisoner, won’t you?
A slave to others’ perceptions. Locked away by your own sense of
propriety.” He shook his head in disgust and headed toward the
door, slamming it behind him.
Cass’s tears faded with Falco’s footsteps. She rose from the bed,
intending to draw her shutters closed against the dwindling twilight.
Though it was still early, she suddenly craved sleep. She wished desperately that she were at the villa where she could sink into her own
luxurious mattress. She longed to cuddle Slipper against her.
She couldn’t even believe what had happened. Falco proposing.
Trying to seduce her. She had done the right thing—she knew it. But
then why did she feel so hollow?
And then heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs and stopped just
outside her door. Cass sighed. Falco was coming back to plead his
case. For a second she debated feigning sleep, but she knew that
wouldn’t be enough to dissuade him. Hurriedly, she tightened the
laces on her bodice. The door swung inward, but it wasn’t Falco.
It was Piero. He charged at her, a balled-up handkerchief clutched
in his hand. A strange chemical scent filled the air, and Cass’s head
went momentarily cloudy. Piero must have dipped the handkerchief
in some sort of drug, something that made her legs wobble and her
muscles go slack. She pushed him away with both hands, clawing for
Maximus’s dagger, which was tucked under the edge of the bed. Still
unsteady on her feet, she slashed the air and Piero jumped back. The
two of them danced around the room.
“Help,” Cass screamed. “Someone help me.” But she knew Flavia
was gone for the evening and doubted that any of the girls on the
lower floors could hear her.
Piero approached again, staying just out of reach of the dagger’s
deadly blade. “I must say, that haircut quite suits you.”
“Stay away from me, you bastard,” Cass hissed. “I will cut you if
I have to.”
“I don’t believe you,” Piero said. “You’re too scared to use that