Treasured Secrets (13 page)

‘But what he did to you —'

Her cheek was throbbing, her eye was pounding out a regular beat, but thankfully that was all. ‘I'm okay, Alessandro. It's nothing really,' she finally said. ‘All he did was ask lots of questions.'

Archer intertwined his fingers with hers. ‘Such as?'

‘He wanted to know about the pendant.' She looked into Archer's dark eyes, wanting to see the truth but there wasn't enough light in the back of the car. ‘I told him about you.'

‘It's okay, Rosa.'

She bit back tears. ‘He got angry because I didn't know anything.' It dawned on her that his secrets put her in danger. She snapped her hand back from Archer as she wondered if he'd told her everything.

‘I'm sorry, Rosa. If I'd known anything like that would happen, I'd have thrown the stupid pendant overboard years ago.'

Did he mean that?
For two decades the pendant had been a noose around his neck. His world was consumed by it and yet he'd refused to let it go. Or share it, for that matter.

‘You're the most important person in the world to me.' Archer tilted his head towards her. ‘I know that now. I'll kill those bastards if they come near you again.'

Alessandro tapped on the brakes and Rosalina saw sorrow within his hooded eyes. She realised how gut-wrenching it must be for him to hear this. As she looked out the window, rows and rows of patron-filled restaurants whizzed by. Florence's nightlife was thriving. Crowds spilled from bustling cafés onto sidewalks. The scents of garlic and spices and a cacophony of music filled the air. The traffic was peak-hour busy. Sounds of carefree laughter were a complete contrast to the torture tearing up her mind.

As the storm of emotions rippled within her, she felt the longing from the two men in her life. Each man waited for her to choose between them, but how could she? They were poles apart in personality.
How can I love them both when they're so different?
One promised safety, stability and a steady future, while the other offered adventure, excitement and the unknown. Both were willing to risk their lives to save her. Both loved her. She had no doubt about that. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt either of them.

Alessandro turned the car onto the main highway and accelerated away from the city. As the lights of the freeway flashed past she tried to look into her future, willing divine guidance to show her the way. Archer's gaze and Alessandro's fleeting glances in the mirror weighed her down. Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply, trying to arrange her thoughts into something useful, but her mind kept returning to images of the creepy man towering over her.

She laid her head back as the car settled into a rhythm over the asphalt. It wasn't until Alessandro turned into her gravel driveway that she re-opened her eyes. Alessandro parked the car around the back of the villa and jumped out to open her door. He cupped her elbow and guided her along the path to the main villa. Rosalina was thankful Nonna's lights were off. Seeing her like this was a stress her grandmother didn't need.

Alessandro escorted her to the downstairs bathroom, turned on the light, and Rosalina gasped at her reflection. The bruise over her eye was much worse than she'd thought. It was already a deep purple and the swelling had forced her eye closed.
It's just superficial
, she told herself. Thankfully nothing was permanent, other than the memories.

Today could have turned out much worse.

Nox rubbed the side of his jaw. That punch, the one that had hit him right beside his earlobe, had hurt like hell. He hadn't been in a physical fight since his childhood and it surprised him how hard a man's fist was. Opening his mouth was painful. Talking was agony. But he needed to block it all out and focus on the men, his men, who he'd summoned before him.

His body odour was particularly offensive in this close space, and the men before him covered their noses in futile attempts to avoid the stench.

Their discomfort brought him pleasure.

For years he had suffered at the hands of those who'd scorned him, but his disease helped to mould him into the man he was today. Rejection came in his early childhood and he'd dealt with it with varying degrees of success. He waited with patience for the day when his tormentors would beg his forgiveness, something he would never give.

The pathetic bunch looked up at him now, fear driven into the whites of their eyes as they acknowledged their failure and no doubt anxiously dreaded what might come. He slammed his fist onto the table and the four men jumped. ‘How the hell did they get away?'

‘He knocked me out.' The man beside him dabbed a blood-soaked towel to his nose, then checked to see if the bleeding had stopped. ‘I don't know what happened after that.' Nox knew what had happened. He'd seen the footage. They'd taken the keys out of his pocket and helped Rosalina escape, that's what.

Brother Nox glared at the balding man beside him. ‘And you?'

‘He tackled me. I was powerless.'

‘You fools. Now they have the girl. Our only leverage.' A volatile cocktail of anger twisted within him. ‘Why didn't you stop them?'

‘There were three of them and —'

Nox stood up, his cloak falling around his knees as he paced the room. The heavy cloth would fail to stop his body odour from seeping into the sinuses of his pathetic group of cohorts. He watched with delight as they tried in vain to block the smell. At a very early age, Nox learnt that if he lingered long enough, the stench would permeate everything. His rare disease would be the undoing of a lesser man, but he'd learned to make the most of Trimethylaminuria. People fled from him. They dropped their eyes and scurried away, as if his odour were poison.

He never did find out what happened to his real parents or how he'd ended up in an orphanage. He didn't care. Ironically, having the disease is what saved him from growing up in that horrid dungeon. He remembered the day he was chosen by Father Benedici like it was yesterday. The church-run orphanage had been a haven for children for hundreds of years, but to him it had been hell. Every day had resulted in varying degrees of torment until he'd learnt to fight back or to wait in the shadows, listening and learning until the perfect chance for revenge arose.

When Nox was twelve, he'd been caught putting rats' tails into a large pot of spaghetti. He'd expected to be punished, but instead Father Benedici had taken him from the overcrowded dormitories and given him his very own room, deep within the church. Over the years, Father Benedici had treated him like the son he never had. And Nox grew to love him like the father he never knew.

Nox had tried to talk to Father Benedici about the secret treasure once. It was just after he'd overheard a conversation that he shouldn't have. Father had known he'd heard it and had initially tried to convince him it was just tomfoolery. But when Nox had questioned him over what would happen should the elusive treasure ever be found, the answer the old fool had given him was worlds away from the answer Nox had expected. Never in his wildest dreams could Nox have kept the treasure hidden, as his father had planned. If he found it, no…
when
Nox found it, he had every intention of using it. From the moment that conversation had ended, Nox knew his father would never be part of his glory.

Nox would have no qualms eliminating the old man. When the time was right, of course. He licked his lips with anticipation at the concept of watching his father writhe in agony after ingesting the poison he'd already prepared. Nox twisted the ring on his middle finger and felt the power flowing into him.

He contemplated the enormity of today's events and sucked in deep breaths, oblivious to the air's tainted tang. The Australian man showing up in his church with that pendant around his neck proved Nox was the chosen one. He would be the victor among centuries of fools who had failed to find the missing treasure. With the valuables in his hands, he would finally have the money he needed to treat his disease properly and he would return to Florence a new man. People would worship him and he would be established into his rightful position at the top of Florence's nobility.

But right now, getting that necklace was of the highest importance. Before the Australian figured out it was a key.

Though Nox had no idea what the key opened.

‘Let me help you out of those clothes,
mio dolce
.' Alessandro placed his hands on Rosalina's shoulders.

But she wrapped her arms around him instead and before she knew it, she started to sob. Alessandro squeezed her to his chest. As she listened to his beating heart, he smoothed down her hair and whispered reassurances she couldn't decipher. Her tears felt good, his embrace felt good, and soon all the tension she'd built up drifted away and she calmed down.

When she could cry no more, she stepped back and drew up on her toes to kiss him. ‘I'll be okay. Let me shower. Then we'll have hot chocolate and talk.'

It was a couple of beats before he spoke. ‘Okay. I'll get your robe.' It was just like him not to push her. He really was a sweetheart.

Rosalina turned the shower faucet on and held her hand under the water until it was hot. Alessandro returned from her upstairs bathroom quickly and draped her bathrobe over the hook. Rosalina was grateful he didn't say anything else before he walked out and shut the door behind him.

Alessandro was a true gentleman. Kind, caring, dependable, and today he'd shown a side of him she'd never seen before — courage. But despite all that, she wasn't sure if she could ever truly love him. At least not in the way she had loved Archer. Archer truly set her heart racing. And when they weren't together it was like a piece of her was missing. She never felt like that with Alessandro.

She lathered with her favourite orange-scented soap and then allowed the hot water to massage her aching skin. Washing her hair was the slice of therapy she needed and she let the conditioner rest while she scrubbed her skin again. When she could no longer smell the devil, she finally emerged from the shower, dried off and moisturised her face, carefully avoiding the bruise.

As she walked from the bathroom, she ran a comb through her hair. She heard the men talking in the kitchen and the smell of chocolate brought a smile to her face.

‘Are you feeling a little better?' Alessandro pulled out a chair and she sat. He placed his hand on her shoulder before he went to the stove and stirred a heavy-based pot with a wooden spoon.

‘I'm fine. Really. Don't burn the chocolate.'

‘Of course not.' Alessandro adjusted the flame down a notch anyway.

‘Your eye looks really bad.' Archer winced as he said it. ‘I'll get some ice.'

Alessandro placed a steaming mug in front of her, one of her pistachio biscotti balanced on the saucer. Rosalina was impressed. ‘This is lovely. Thank you.'

‘You haven't tasted it yet,
il mio dolce
.'

She blew on the top and then took a sip of the sweet velvety chocolate. It was the perfect temperature — not so hot that it burnt her lips, but heated enough to enhance the rich flavour and warm her insides. ‘It's perfect.'

Alessandro smiled, clearly pleased.

Archer returned with ice in a plastic bag and instructed her to hold it over her eye. Then he sat down with his own cup of hot chocolate nestled within his palms.

Alessandro placed his hand over Rosalina's. ‘I think it's time you two told me what's going on.'

Rosalina turned her attention to Archer. His eyes were downcast, staring at his fingers that were now rapping a tattoo on the mug.

Alessandro reached up and ever so tenderly cupped her cheek. ‘Whatever is going on with that pendant put Rosalina in danger, and that means I need to know. All of it.'

Archer cocked an eyebrow at Alessandro.

Rosalina eased back from Alessandro's warm palm. ‘He's right, Archer. You need all the help you can get.'

Archer tilted back on his chair and with the tips of his fingers, he squeezed his temples. It took a while for him to finally speak. But once he began telling his childhood story it was like he couldn't stop. Archer did hold back, though; it seemed he couldn't bring himself to mention the shark attack again. He simply labelled his father's death as a diving accident. Alessandro was a great listener; he barely made a sound during the entire telling. Rosalina knew he'd be taking every little detail into that amazing brain of his. She had a sudden feeling this was destiny. Alessandro and Archer were meant to meet. And she was somehow the master of this destiny who'd put them together. But she would also be the one to decide who'd be the ultimate victor. The thought horrified her; she wanted to crush the idea like pine nuts in a mortar and pestle. Rosalina thrived on conflict resolution, rather than conflict instigation.

The only time Archer paused during his childhood story was to change from hot chocolate to wine and to replenish Rosalina's ice.

‘So…' Alessandro put on his professor face, deep frown and pouting lips. ‘You have known about this treasure for how long?'

‘Twenty-two years.'

Alessandro's facial expression switched from concerned frown to incredulous. ‘And you've found nothing.'

Rosalina noticed Archer stiffen so she cut in. ‘To be fair, Archer didn't have the entire word on his pendant.'

Rosalina could almost feel the cogs working in Alessandro's brain.

‘True, but still…‘

Alessandro let the sentence hang and Rosalina was thankful Archer didn't bite.

She suddenly remembered the lion on the crypt. ‘Oh Archer, I forgot to tell you. That room I was trapped in had the crypt of Robert…umm.' She scoured her brain for the precise name but it eluded her. ‘I can't remember his real name, but they called him Robert The Wise.'

Alessandro clicked his fingers. ‘Oh that's Robert D'Angiò, King of Naples. He has a fascinating history —'