Her mother tried not to stare. “Does it hurt?”
“See, that’s why I asked for some privacy,” Jess groaned. “And no, it doesn’t hurt.” But it did. In the fall yesterday, she’d twisted her stump painfully.
Leaning over, she picked up her prosthetic from the floor next to the bed, angled her lower leg upward, and pulled the socket into place. It was a custom fit, with a new suction valve that kept it on securely. A smooth stainless steel rod connected the flesh-colored socket to her new foot. She’d just gotten it a few months before—a multiple-axis stored-energy one in lifelike plastic. Better than her old leg, she liked to joke.
Six years now, and she could hardly remember the difference. Six years ago she’d lost her leg. It was the last time that her parents had come together, that day when she’d been shipped back to the US, damaged and broken. They’d been like a real family again, for a short time at least. But she didn’t have another leg to spare. This time she hoped they could do it without her needing to lose a limb.
After attaching her leg, she pulled on a pair of jeans and stylish gold flats, then a red short-sleeved blouse. Searching through her luggage, she found her makeup kit and walked into the bathroom, clicking the light on.
Her mother watched her, smiling. “Makeup? You’re putting on makeup?”
Jess rolled her eyes but grinned. “Give me a break, huh?”
Knocking on the heavy wooden door, Jess said, “Mr. Ruspoli, ah, I mean, Baron Giovanni?” The door was open just a crack, and she heard paper shuffling. “Sorry, Nico told me to just come up.”
The shuffling stopped. “Jessica, yes, please, come in! And please, call me Giovanni.”
Jess swung open the door, expecting a dim medieval interior with suits of armor and swords on the walls, but instead she found a bright open space. Giovanni was sitting behind a computer monitor at a large L-shaped desk in the corner of the room. Bookcases lined the wall to her left, behind the open door, filled with a jumble of books and odds and ends.
The wall to her right had an enormous flat screen television covering most of it, but was otherwise lined with shelves of electronic gear to both sides. The other two walls were floor-to-ceiling windows looking out over the tops of the castle walls to the rolling vineyards and hills beyond. Pictures hung on the walls between the bookcases; one of them, Jess noticed, showed the Baron sailing on rough waves, sea foam spraying around him. Another picture was of him atop a mountain, distant peaks stretching into the distance, and beside that a large print of him in full arctic gear, smiling in front of a frozen wasteland.
“How are you feeling today?” Giovanni asked, turning to face her. He’d been staring at the computer screen. Littered across the floor were large cardboard boxes, stacked up, with backpacks scattered between in clumps. A set of scuba tanks sat in the corner. “Please excuse the mess, I’ve just moved back. Please, come, sit.” He indicated a chair next to his desk.
Jess picked her way through the boxes. “I’m the one that should be apologizing. And I’m feeling great, thank you. How are you?” She sat.
“Good, good.” He glanced back at the computer monitor. “I’m just trying to understand the family business, so much to do.” His voice faded. Shaking his head, he looked back at Jess and smiled.
“Giovanni, thank you for…” Jess started to say, but then stopped. She hated apologizing. In her world, either you did something or you didn’t. If you did it, then you meant it, and there was no need to apologize. If you didn’t mean it, then don’t do it. It was that simple. But in this case… “Thank you for keeping the police out, yesterday, I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am.”
“Nonsense, the police have no business here. This is my sovereign ground. My family has defended this place for a thousand years. Two little police officers are nothing.”
She couldn’t tell if he was being funny or not. Was this really his sovereign ground? Like his own country? “Still, they were here because of me.”
“I know.”
“It’s just, this guy I was—”
“No need to explain.” Giovanni clicked off his computer. “So, how about that personal tour of the castle?”
Was this guy for real? Some kind of Italian machismo? Fending off the police, rescuing the damsel in distress? Jess felt a prickling of resentment under her gratitude, but said nothing.
“Are you ready?” Giovanni stood and came around his desk.
Jess took a deep breath and smiled, consciously smoothing down the hackles in her mind. “Sure, that would be great.”