The Raven (The Florentine #1)(94)

He shoved her arm aside.

Her eyes shot open and she began to cry out, begging him to stop, her limbs immobile.

Pain shot through her body, overtaking the pleasure. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she felt weightless, the pain as well as the pleasure gone.

When she collapsed in his arms, he laid her on the bed, lifting his bloodied mouth to kiss her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I couldn’t help myself.”

Raven lacked the strength to respond. She felt the darkness close in around her as her heart stuttered and finally stopped.

Chapter Thirty-eight

To say that Raven was unsettled by the nightmare would be an understatement. She slept fitfully the rest of the night, finally giving up on sleep at around four o’clock in the morning.

She wrote short e-mails to Cara and to Father Kavanaugh, telling them she’d be glad to see them in the summer. She lied to her sister, saying that Bruno had canceled their date. She hoped Cara wouldn’t pursue the matter further.

At six o’clock, it was still too early to get ready for work, so Raven spread her drawing paper and charcoals across the kitchen table and began sketching the lost Michelangelo painting that hung in William’s villa.

It was difficult to draw from memory, even though Raven’s memory (when not recovering from a life-threatening head injury) was very good. Still, it was worth a try, since it seemed unlikely she’d ever see it again.

An hour and a half later, she’d outlined the naked bodies of Adam and Eve. They were a fair approximation of the figures painted by Michelangelo.

Disturbingly, however, she’d drawn the faces of William and herself without realizing it.

Frustrated, she tossed the paper and charcoals into her knapsack and went to the bathroom to wash her hands. The drawing was ruined. And it certainly hadn’t helped her put thoughts of William aside.

He was handsome, it was true. But he was dangerous.

He kissed like an angel. Or rather, what Raven thought an angel would kiss like if there were such things.

But he was cruel.

Her subconscious had placed interesting words into his mouth.

I won’t let such beauty die.

But William would let beauty die. Moreover, he’d bring about its death directly, by killing Professor Emerson.

She chose a pair of black pants and a green blouse to wear to work, dressing listlessly. She pinned her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and retrieved her glasses from the nightstand, where they sat next to William’s bracelet.

He hadn’t taken it.

As she looked at the gold, at the fleur-de-lis in the center, it occurred to her that returning it would give her an excuse to visit him. Then she could speak to him about the Emersons.

It was a flimsy excuse but all she had.

She placed the bracelet on her wrist, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and exited the apartment. After locking her door, she saw a woman on the landing, preparing to enter Lidia’s apartment.

The woman bore a striking resemblance to Bruno, with the same dark hair and eyes.

“Good morning,” she said. “I’m Raven.”

The woman’s face flashed with recognition.

“I’m Graziella, Bruno’s mother.”

“Um, I heard Bruno was in the hospital. Is he okay?”

Graziella appeared upset.

“He was attacked the other night. But he’s doing much better. We think he will be able to come home tomorrow.”

Raven exhaled her relief. “That’s good news. How is Lidia?”

“Not so good. But a specialist from Rome is coming to examine her.” She nodded toward the apartment. “She was refusing treatment until she heard her case had come to the attention of a distinguished oncologist. She decided she’d see him.”

Raven found herself heartened by the news. “I’m glad to hear it. I didn’t know she was sick. I’m so sorry I didn’t try to help earlier.”

“Would you like to come inside? Say hello?”

“Of course.”

Raven glanced at her old Swatch discreetly. She had plenty of time to get to work.

When they entered the apartment, Dolcezza, the cat, darted toward the door.

Raven hung back, not knowing how the cat would react to her. It had hissed at her only a week previous.

But the cat seemed to have forgotten her previous bad temper and began threading itself through her legs.

Raven leaned over to pet the cat, hearing its throaty purr.

“Mamma, you have a visitor,” Graziella announced.

Lidia was over seventy and small and rounded, with curly gray hair and dark, wise eyes. She was sitting on her couch in the living room, watching television. As soon as she saw Raven, she smiled.

“Hello, my dear.” She waved her over and Raven crossed the room.

Lidia patted the couch next to her.

Raven sat down, placing her knapsack on the floor. “I’m so sorry to hear that you’re sick.”

“I’m fine, just old. How did your date with my grandson go?”

“Oh.” Raven shifted awkwardly. “Well, something came up and he couldn’t meet me.”

“Really?” Lidia frowned. “That isn’t like him. He told me he was looking forward to it. I’ll have to speak to him. But you know he had an accident.”

“Yes, I heard that. I’m so sorry.”