Burned Dreams (Perfectly Imperfect #7)

I walk a few paces behind him as he turns left and leads me across the spacious marble foyer toward the sliding wooden door on the far side. The interior screams opulence, and my steps echo off the walls and the high ceiling adorned with stucco decorations. Fresco paintings on the ceiling show angels in vibrant colors, looking down on us. Pieces of baroque dark wood furniture that’s been polished to a shine are positioned in the corners. A wide stairwell leads to the upper floor, and the elaborate wooden banister has flowers, vines and other decorative shit carved into it.

Pisano’s office is equally large. A massive wooden desk in a deep cherry finish takes up the central spot. On its surface, close to the edge, is a thick, carved nameplate that matches the desk veneer.

The rest of the room displays similar examples of gaudy. There’s an enormous crystal chandelier, which is more suitable for a dining room than an office. Two life-size gold sculptures of crouching lions as if they’re on guard are set on either side of his desk, and massive bookshelves line the wall behind it. The books are protected by golden-framed glass doors.

Rocco takes a seat behind his desk and reaches for the wooden box containing high-end cigars. As he picks up one of thepuros, the light from the chandelier overhead reflects off a thick gold ring with a massive ruby stone on his bony index finger.

Eight years. Eight fucking years I’ve been searching for this man and here he is, finally sitting before me. I can barely manage to control the urge to wrap my hands around his throat, snapping his neck on the spot. But I haven’t waited this long to let him off with a simple, swift death. No. I will destroy him, piece by little piece, and he’s going to watch. Only when there is nothing left of his gilded life will he be allowed to meet his maker. And I’ll make sure the path we take to his final destination will be very, very lengthy. And extremely excruciating.

Rocco’s eyes don’t leave me as he cuts the tip and places the cigar in his mouth as if he’s trying to make an impression. He also doesn’t offer me a seat in one of the chairs positioned in front of his desk.

“So, I heard you don’t like women,” he says as he lights the cigar. “Is that true?”

I’ve been expecting the question. The boss told me Rocco was pathologically jealous, and that he killed the last three bodyguards assigned to his wife. The only reason I’m taking over the role is because Rocco believes I’m gay. I’m not entirely sure where the idea had come from, but Ajello mentioned that’s exactly what Rocco thinks of me. Perhaps he heard that I never go to the strip club frequented by the other Cosa Nostra soldiers every Thursday night. Or maybe he figures I’m gay because I turned away the girls that idiot Carmelo sent to my place as a gift for my fifth anniversary of joining the Family. It doesn’t really matter to me what gave him that impression. I hold his gaze and nod.

“Your secret is safe with me.” Rocco’s lips curve upward. “Let’s get down to business. You will be in charge of my wife’s safety, twenty-four seven. As you’ve probably noticed, guards aren’t allowed inside the house. That only changes when we have guests over. Otherwise, the only people in this house are me and my wife. We also have a housekeeper and two maids. They come at eight and leave at seven.”

“Security systems?” I ask.

“Alarms on front and back doors, as well as ground floor windows. Cameras outside the house and along the perimeter wall. They’re monitored from the guardhouse at the gate. Three shifts of security guards, five men on each.”

“My tasks?”

“You have only one. My wife,” he says and leans back in his chair. “Ravenna is not allowed to leave the house without supervision. She likes to go for walks around the property, so when she does, you’re to go with her. Also, she often heads out shopping and to do other female shit. Hairdresser. Manicure. You’ll be with her wherever she needs to venture out.”

“Any exceptions?”

“No exceptions. If she needs to go to a fucking gynecologist, you’re going with her.” He gets up off his chair and comes to stand in front of me. “Your job isn’t to simply act as Ravenna’s security detail. That’s secondary. What I need you to do is follow her every step and report anything suspicious to me.”

“What’s considered suspicious?”

“Talking to other men. Or strangers in general, women included. She’s not allowed to make calls from your phone or anyone else’s, either. She has a cell with the only numbers she’s permitted to call programmed into it, and she’s to use that phone only. Her daily agenda is to be confirmed with me every morning. No deviations are permissible.”

I keep my face expressionless as I mull over what he said. The woman must either be a ditz or a pushover if she’s okay with being controlled in this manner, but that’s not my problem.

“Understood.”

“You’ll keep this with you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing me a credit card. “Let her use it when she needs to purchase something, then take it back.”

Maybe Mrs. Pisano likes to indulge herself too much? I take the card and nod.

Rocco tilts his head to the side. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“No.”

“Perfect.” He heads toward the door. “Ravenna should be down at any moment.”

As I follow him out of the room, I wonder what the woman I’m going to kill looks like in person.

I tilt my chin up, looking at my reflection in the mirror. Three layers of foundation did their thing. The bruise on my neck isn’t visible, and the wide diamond choker necklace covers what the makeup couldn’t. It’s been four days, so hopefully, it’ll fade soon.

Picking up my coat off the back of the chair, I exit my bedroom. My husband’s room is just across from mine, and I can’t suppress a shudder as my eyes fall on his door before I head down the hall to the main staircase.Soon, I tell myself. I just need a few months more.

Rocco is standing at the foot of the stairs, watching me descend. His eyes do a quick pass over the dress I’m wearing, and his lips widen into a satisfied smile. When he came to my room earlier, he threw the dress and necklace at me, ordering me to wear it tonight. I waited for him to leave before I took a look at the red gown. It’s worse than the previous dress he bought me, and the idea of going out, especially to the theater in that thing, makes me feel so ashamed, but that’s nothing new.

I’m so engrossed in calculating how much money I still need until there’s enough for my escape and what would be the fastest way to earn more, that I don’t notice the man standing by the door until I reach the landing. When I do, my steps falter for a moment, but somehow, I manage to cover up my near trip. My husband is a tall man, but the person behind him is almost a head taller.

“Ravenna, bellissima, you look stunning.” Rocco smiles as I approach and takes my hand. “This is Alessandro Zanetti, your new bodyguard.”