Venice Vampyr - The Beginning

Lorenzo glared at his friend. “Don’t be an ass. I have no interest in her. All I want to know is whether there’s something I have to watch out for, considering she’s staying for a few days. It’s simply a security precaution.”


Hell, who was he kidding? Bianca intrigued him, and he wanted to know more about her background. Asking her outright was out of the question—he didn’t want to reveal to her that he was even remotely interested in her. What if she was some sort of gold digger, who figured she could get her father’s house back if she made nice with him and ensnared him in her net, hoping he’d marry her? He didn’t need those kinds of complications. It was better to be prepared.





Chapter Eight




Bianca woke around midday. It had been hard to get back to sleep after Lorenzo had left her aroused and unsatisfied. She’d never felt so empty. Why hadn’t he finished what he’d started? He’d been hard and had to have been aching for release, just like she had. Yet he’d denied them both what would have been a night of absolute pleasure.

She threw the covers back and dropped her legs over the side of the bed. Maybe she should be happy that he’d decided to behave like a gentleman after all and not insisted on her paying for her sojourn by acting as his mistress. In fact, she should be very happy about it. For once, she wouldn’t have to pay with her body. It was a welcome change. But it was confusing to say the least.

Bianca knew she had a good body. Plenty of men had told her so, and she’d even seen it in Lorenzo’s eyes when he’d gawked at her in her nudity. Had something repulsed him? Had he not wanted her to suck him? Darn, why was she even second-guessing herself? He didn’t want her to be his mistress. She should rejoice in that fact. And he hadn’t thrown her out yet, which meant she could do what she’d come to do: find the treasure.

With renewed determination, she jumped out of bed, careful not to make too much noise. She’d heard Lorenzo come back before sunrise and enter her father’s old room. It appeared that was where he’d made his bed for the night. He’d not attempted to sneak back into her bed, even though she’d half wished it. Bianca shook her head. It was stupid to think like that. She didn’t want him. He was merely a nuisance she had to deal with while she was searching for her father’s treasure. Nothing more.

Since she had taken a bath the night before, she washed very quickly with the cold water from the pitcher on the commode, cleaned her teeth and pulled out a clean dress from her bag. If what Lorenzo had said was true—that he slept during the day—then she would have the house to herself to search at her heart’s content. She didn’t want to waste another minute of it. The faster she found what she was looking for, the faster she’d be able to leave.

Bianca tiptoed past Lorenzo’s chamber and hurried down the stairs. She would start her search in the rooms furthest from where Lorenzo was sleeping. Since she’d already examined the kitchen the night before, and since it was the least likely place her father would have hidden anything, she skipped that room and headed for the parlor. Her father had spent much time in this room, and the ornate decorations throughout it provided plenty of opportunities to disguise a hidden compartment or a false floor.

Systematically, she went to work. What made the work somewhat tedious was the fact that she couldn’t simply rip things apart and leave them that way. Because Lorenzo was in the house, she needed to make sure he didn’t realize what she was doing. When she pried a loose wooden panel off the ornate cabinet that had been built into the wall and found only dust and cobwebs behind it, she had to jam it back into its old position. Bianca used her elbow to put enough force behind it until the loose panel was sticking again.

Her hands were already dusty as was her dress from sliding against the walls and the furniture, not to mention from crawling on the floor to peek under furniture in case her father had stuck something to the bottom of a piece.

After lifting the ornate rugs in the parlor and finding nothing underneath them, she abandoned the room and went back to the kitchen. Her stomach rumbled. The larder was virtually empty, but the things she’d always liked were there: a jar of olives, hard cheese, and a partial leg of dry cured ham. She inhaled and cut herself thick slices of cheese and ham and spooned a large helping of olives onto a plate.

When she devoured the first slice of ham, she realized how hungry she’d been. Within minutes, the plate was empty, and she felt much better. It was easier to resume her search with a full belly.