Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

“He was a gambler?” Raphael interjected.

Lorenzo nodded. “A bad one at that. As soon as he died, I approached his solicitor and made it clear that it would be most beneficial to the heir if I received the house in exchange for my marker, considering the marker was for more than the house was worth. I threw in a small sum to pacify the solicitor and a slightly larger one for the heir.”

“And the heir agreed?” Dante asked, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

Lorenzo folded his arms across his chest, fully satisfied with his achievement. “She has no choice. There is nothing for her to inherit other than her father’s debts, which I’ve now taken care of. The solicitor will explain it to her when she arrives in Venice. I’m sure it’ll pose no problem. In any case, the solicitor had authorization to execute the contract.”

“Excellent!” Dante stood and slapped him on the shoulder. “I applaud you on your initiative.” Then he turned to the other men in the room. “That’s exactly what I expect from the rest of you. Don’t wait until a house is being offered for sale. Make an offer. We have the funds to make it happen. There are twenty-eight houses on this block and the one behind us. We need to own each and every one of them if we want to make sure we’re protected from the Guardians.”

All heads nodded enthusiastically.

“When are you moving in?” Nico asked.

“This Friday night.”

Nico and Dante exchanged a conspiratorial look.

“I’m sure we’ll find a suitable housewarming gift for you, won’t we, Nico?” Dante grinned from one ear to the next and received the same wicked grin in response from Nico.

Lorenzo merely shook his head. He could be sure that whatever his friends had in mind would be either sinful or entertaining, and if he was lucky, both.





Chapter Two




Bianca Greco looked over her shoulder once more before she turned the key in the rusted lock and prayed for the first time in many years. The clicking sound announced that her prayer had been answered: the old key still worked. Nobody had changed the locks yet.

Before her luck could change, she slid inside her old home and shut the door behind her. Finally, she was able to breathe again.

As soon as she’d received the news of her father’s sudden death, Bianca had packed her bags and traveled to Venice. But despite her hasty departure, her trip had taken several days, the muddy road conditions being to blame. She’d arrived too late.

The solicitor, Signore Mancini, had informed her with a beaming smile that he’d managed to sell her father’s home and even extracted a little money from the buyer, who’d graciously paid off all of her father’s debts. According to the solicitor, she should be happy to have received anything, particularly since the debts had far exceeded the value of the house.

But Bianca was fuming. And Signore Mancini had merely assumed that she was upset because this had once been her home and she had happy memories there. Bah! The few happy memories she’d had in her home were from her early childhood. Later, as soon as she’d developed into a young woman with a slim waist, wide child-bearing hips, and a generous bosom, her father had ferried in the suitors by the boatload.

It had turned into a cattle auction. She being the cattle to be auctioned off to the highest bidder. She could still taste the disappointment on her lips when she’d begged her father to choose a kind husband for her. He’d only looked at her with his cold eyes and ordered her to be quiet. Nothing of the gentle father on whose lap she’d sat for hours as a child was left. He’d become consumed with rising in Venetian society, and he was going to do it on Bianca’s back by marrying her off to the most influential suitor.

She’d done the only thing she could: she’d fled.

After stealing sufficient coin from her father’s purse to see her safely to the mainland, Bianca had made it as far as Florence before her money had run out. With no skills or talents to support herself, she’d done the one thing her father had tried to do for her: she sold her body.

Thanks to her refined manners and her beauty, she’d attracted the attention of a wealthy benefactor who’d made her his courtesan. Once he’d tired of her, he’d handed her off to one of his friends. While the men Bianca had been with had treated her well and provided her with a good lifestyle, essentially she was what she was: a whore.