Chapter 4

CHAPTERFOUR

Dom woke the following morning with a blazing headache and cottonmouth. He groaned and clutched his pounding head.

It took another few seconds before he forced open his itchy eyes and realized he was still fully clothed from the previous day, his favorite coat in tatters from shifting.

What happened last night?

There was a light tap on the door, and Antonio entered with a tray of steaming coffee and breakfast.

"Master Aladoro, I’m so glad to see you awake." He placed the tray down on a coffee table and offered Dom his usual double espresso. "I was starting to fear you had a concussion."

"I feel like I have a concussion," he muttered and dragged himself upright.

"I thought you were going to a family dinner last night, not hitting the bars."

"I did go to dinner, and I didn’t drink enough to feel this terrible." Dom sipped the espresso and tried to remember what had happened. "How did I get home?"

Antonio’s frown deepened. "You don’t remember? A gondolier delivered you about one a.m. and said your drinking buddies paid him to bring you home."

"Drinking buddies?" Dom asked. He drained his espresso and passed the cup back to Antonio. "I’m going to need another of those."

"Might I also suggest a shower? There is blood on you, but thankfully it’s not your own," Antonio lowered his brows in disapproval. "Really, master, you’re old enough not to be brawling in the streets."

Dom stumbled into his bathroom and stripped off his ruined clothes. His money was missing too, but at least his phone was still there.

What did you do?

He climbed into the steaming hot water and tried to piece his night back together. He remembered playing a round of chess with Caesar and leaving the Aladoro palazzo.Then his memory got hazy.

He had shifted at some point, but when? And why?

Dom rubbed at his chest and then hissed. A red mark, sensitive as a burn, covered his solar plexus. He touched it and instantly remembered a blond woman slamming her hand against him.

Dom stumbled and put his hands against the tiled wall to steady himself.

She had used magic on him, that much was for certain. But other than the mark, he didn’t have a scratch on him, so clearly, she hadn’t intended to seriously injure him.

Dom switched off the shower and wrapped a towel around himself. The woman had picked his pocket, which meant her scent should still be on his clothes.

He grabbed his shirt and lifted the front of it to his nose. Nutmeg, honey, and a faint trace of paint.

He knew that scent. He’d been hunting for it since Carnevale. "Misteriosa."

His fingers tightened in the fabric as his memory finally snapped into focus. A knife fight in the streets and a fierce woman. He remembered the surprised expression on her beautiful face.

The scent of her didn’t lie, even as he finally put a name and a face to his mystery woman.

"Stella," he growled.

Dom tossed the shirt down, hurried through his bedroom, and flung open his balcony doors.

Across the canal sat the Vianello Publishing House, a converted palazzo of red brick and Byzantine windows. She had been right in front of him every time he had walked out the door.

"Master! Get away from that window if you don’t want someone selling photos of you half-naked to the papers," Antonio scolded as he came in with more coffee. "What has gotten into you?"

"Nothing. I just needed some fresh air."

"Well, get some clothes on first, for the love of God."

Dom snatched his tarot deck off his desk and shuffled, trying to organize his thoughts. He looked down at the cards and laughed grimly. They were a hand-painted deck made by Vianello.

God, the woman was everywhere. He stopped shuffling.

"Cazzo!" he hissed.

Stella had magic. He had seen it the night they met, and she had blasted him last night with something strong enough to knock him out. She was the Vianello heiress; she wasn’t supposed to have magic if she painted tarot.

Was that the reason she had never reached out? Maybe the better question: was that the reason she had attacked him? It made sense. God, he had hung a man yesterday for the same crime. He had a duty to report her, but there had to be more to it. More to her.

What the hell was an heiress doing caught in a knife fight in the middle of the night?

Dom started shuffling the cards again, wondering what to do. He turned over the top card and cursed again.

La Stella. The Star. He studied the smudged phone number and the golden-haired woman by the water with Stella’s face.

Dom sank into an armchair, defeated.

"Master? Are you all right? You look like someone just walked over your grave," Antonio said.

"I’m fine. I’ve just remembered that I have an appointment with the publishers that I forgot about," Dom replied, holding the card a little tighter.

Stella Vianello had run from him twice, and now she had nowhere to hide. He would get his answers out of her, even if he had to play the arrogant Aladoro prince to get them.

* * *

Even before Dompulled his sleek black boat into the dock on the Rio del Malpaga, he noticed the flurry of activity at the front of the Vianello business.

A young man carrying boxes for the cartolai and other waiting customers promptly dropped what he was doing and raced to assist in tying off the boat.

"Keep an eye on it for me, will you?" Dom said, tossing him a silver coin.

"Of course, Signor Aladoro," he replied.

Dom straightened the cuffs of the elegant black cape blazer he wore, his shirt the deep scarlet of the Aladoro house contrasting boldly with the golden pin of the Council that adorned his lapel. His outfit had the desired effect as he stepped into the busy publishing house, with everyone stopping to stare at him.

"Buongiorno." Dom flashed his best public smile. "I was wondering if someone could point me in the direction of Signorina Vianello?"

A middle-aged woman pointed wordlessly at a set of stairs, her mouth hanging open. He gave her a slight bow that made her blush violently. "Grazie mille, donna mia."

Dom took the stairs two at a time and found the office door on the next floor. As soon as he reached for the handle, it opened, and a man jumped backward in fright.

"I want those copies done by the end of the afternoon, Paulo, so don’t mess around," a woman’s voice called from inside.

"Ah, Stella? You have a visitor," Paulo stammered and stepped aside. Stella’s eyes locked with Dom’s across the room and narrowed.

Dom’s concentration slipped at the sight of her wildly loose curls. Her high-collared cream shirt also had enough buttons undone to offer a tantalizing peek of cleavage.

Mio Dio. Remember why you are here.

"Please tell Signor Aladoro that I’m not in," Stella replied and looked back down at the papers on her desk, her pen writing steadily.

Dom gestured with his head, and Paulo all but bolted back down the stairs.

"I apologize for interrupting your day, but I have an urgent matter to discuss with you," Dom said, shutting the doors behind him.

Stella’s green eyes lifted briefly to the open window, and Dom casually strolled over to stand in front of it. His lips twitched in a smile.

No escaping this time.

One of Stella’s golden brows rose in response as if to say she would like to see him try and stop her.

"And what urgent matter would that be, Signor Aladoro? My father is away, and I’m extremely busy, as you can see." Stella gestured to the work on her desk, even as she leaned back in her chair.

"One of my cards has been damaged from a bespoke set designed by this house. I’d like a replacement made," Dom said, closing in on her.

Her scent of honey and nutmeg was still detectable under the rose oil she had rubbed all over her skin to drown it out.

Clever, but not clever enough.

"If you see one of the artisans downstairs, they would be more than happy to paint you a new one or fix your old one," Stella replied.

"But I would like you to paint it," Dom insisted with a charming smile. It had no effect on her whatsoever.

"I don’t take personal commissions."

Dom rested his pack of cards on the desk in front of her. "What if I say pretty please?"

"So what if you do?" Stella’s lovely red lips rose in a polite smile. "I still don’t do commissions."

"Make an exception for me." Dom flipped the deck and tossed the Star card down in front of her.

Stella finally looked him in the eyes, her cheeks flushing. He could hear her heart beating faster as he leaned over the desk and purred, "Hello, misteriosa."