Sun was just beginning to lighten the sky when they turned up the long road outside of Florence. She could make out a tower of trees on either side of the long drive, sunlight silhouetting the branches against the indigo sky.

Beyond that there was nothing.

She’d slept most of the way to Italy, disembarking the plane with Damian and the big man — she’d learned his name was Farrell — who had rescued her in Greece.

She’d only had her location confirmed after exiting the apartment in Athens. She’d thought she might be in Greece, thanks to the food they brought her, the lettering on the pager bags, the language spoken in short bursts outside the door of her room.

But it wasn’t until Damian had shuffled her around the dead body on the stairs and out the back door into an alley that she knew for sure. He’d told her they were going to Italy. She was too exhausted and relieved to ask for details.

She was with him and that meant she was safe.

Now they emerged into a courtyard with a bubbling fountain at its center, a massive stucco house looming behind it. When they pulled up to the front door, she noticed a woman standing on the porch next to a small man.

Farrell stopped the car and made his way to the porch — to the woman — without a backward glance.

“Come on,” Damian said as he helped Aria out of the car. “You can rest here.”

“Where are we?” she asked, stepping onto the crushed gravel.

“It’s Farrell’s compound in Tuscany,” he said. “It’s the closest place we could find to Athens. The safest place.”

She didn’t need to know more. Thoughts had occasionally tried to push themselves to the surface of her consciousness — thoughts about Primo and Malcolm and the men who had kidnapped her — but she’d pushed them resolutely back under water.

She couldn’t deal with any of it yet. She just wanted to get clean and sleep for days.

Damian held her arm as they made their way up the wide front steps to Farrell and the brown-haired woman next to him. His arm was draped over her shoulders, a possessive glint in his eyes. He looked ready to stage an assault on anyone who looked at her the wrong way despite the fact that the only people in the vicinity were Damian, Aria, and the small man who had gone to the car to get Farrell and Damian’s bags.

The woman reached out and took Aria’s hand as soon as they reached the top steps. Her palm was warm and dry.

“I’m Jenna.” The woman’s voice was low and throaty, the voice of a screen siren from the 1940s. Add in the British accent and the glossy dark hair, the fierce green eyes, and Aria could see how she might tame a man like Farrell. “Let me show you to your room. You must be exhausted.”

Aria was glad the woman hadn’t gone through the motions of making small talk. She couldn’t talk about weather she hadn’t seen or about the journey from Athens. She felt like she’d been wrapped in a cocoon for the last few hours — for the last two months, which was how long Damian said she’d been missing.

Jenna touched Aria’s shoulder to guide her into the house and Aria followed her into an expansive triple-height foyer. She looked back at Damian as they crossed over the marble flooring and started up a sweeping staircase to the second floor.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his dark eyes meeting hers.

She turned around and continued up the stairs with Jenna.

“I’m afraid my daughter, Lily, will be up in a couple hours,” Jenna said. “She’s a bit of a pistol, but I’ll try to keep her quiet so you can rest.”

“That’s not necessary.” Aria was surprised to hear her voice emerge from her throat. It sounded strangely unfamiliar to her own ears. “I have a feeling nothing will wake me once I finally get to sleep.”

“Nevertheless,” Jenna said with a smile, “it won’t kill her to keep it down — for my sake if not yours.”

They continued down a long hall and turned left down another. Aria was beginning to feel like she’d entered a labyrinth crafted of marble and plaster, antique furnishings and fine art, when Jenna finally stopped at a closed door.

“I’ve put you here at the end of the east wing where it’s quietest,” she said. “But there’s an intercom if you need anything. I’ve left you a list with extensions for the kitchen and some of the other parts of the house you might want to contact.”

“What about Damian?” she asked as Jenna opened the door.

“He requested to be put in the room next to yours.” Jenna hesitated. “I think maybe he wanted you to have privacy. The number to his room is on the list, too.”

They stepped into a room that somehow managed to be both luxurious and homey. There was an imposing canopy bed lined with crisp draperies, a rustic wardrobe, a writing desk set against a window.

“There’s a private bathroom,” Jenna said, opening a door on one side of the room. “There are fresh towels and everything you should need for tonight. Make a list of anything else you need and we’ll send someone for it.”

Aria pulled the sweater Damian had given her on the plane tighter around her body. “Thank you.”

It didn’t seem like enough for all these people — these strangers — were doing for her, but they were the only words she could find in the moment.

Jenna smiled. “Of course. Please make yourself at home and get some rest. In my experience, there are few things that aren’t improved by a good night’s sleep.”

Aria nodded and watched as Jenna stepped into the hall and closed the door quietly behind her.

She stood for a few moments, looking around the room, wondering what to do next. Her eyes found the phone next to the bed, a small piece of paper tucked under it.

She crossed the room and picked up the directory Jenna had mentioned. There were several phone numbers: kitchen, laundry, housekeeping. It was like being in a hotel.

Her gaze came to rest on the last entry on the list, added by hand — Damian.

She picked up the phone and dialed, was surprised when he picked up on the first ring.

“Aria?”

“Can you… Can you come?” she asked. “To my room?”

“I’ll be there in less than a minute.”

The phone went dead and twenty seconds later a knock sounded at the door. When she opened it, Damian was standing in the hall, his face drawn with worry.

“Are you all right?”

Was she all right? Why had she called Damian? He couldn’t undo the last two months. He couldn’t change anything that had happened.

“I don’t know what to do,” she finally said.

His expression softened and he pulled her into his arms. She slumped against him, let herself find refuge in the strong expanse of his chest against her cheek.

Maybe he couldn’t change anything, but this was the next best thing.

“Let’s start with a bath,” he said into her hair. “Sound good?”

She nodded and stepped back to let him in the room. He walked in like he owned the place, looked around to get his bearings, and headed straight for the bathroom. A few seconds later, she heard the sound of running water.

The bathroom was already filling with steam when she got there. She stood near the tub while he got the temperature right and poured something that looked like oil into the water. Lavender filled the air, carried to her nose on the steam swirling through the room.

He stood. “Would you like some privacy?”

She shook her head.

He walked slowly toward her, lifted a hand to her face, let it trail down one of her arms. When he reached for the hem of her T-shirt, she lifted her arms and let him slide it off her body.

He tossed it aside and let his hands travel gently over the slope of her shoulders. When he reached around her body to unhook the bra — one of many things he’d handed her in a red shopping bag when she’d boarded the plane outside Athens — she leaned into him and let him slide it from her shoulders.

Kneeling at her feet, he slid off the soft velvet pants, pulling the simple black panties along with them until she was standing in front of him as naked as the day she was born.

She didn’t mind. Damian knew all of her.

He stood, took her hand, and helped her into the tub.

The water was hot at first, but it only took a moment to become a warm embrace around her body, tight and coiled from all the weeks inside the room in Greece. She sank up to her chin and lay her head back, closed her eyes as Damian smoothed her hair.

“I’m going to leave you to rest now,” he said.

She opened her eyes, lifted her hand out of the water to clutch his. “Don’t go.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded and closed her eyes again. “I’m sure.”

She wasn’t sure of much. Didn’t know the details surrounding her kidnapping or what was happening with Primo or what would happen next.

But she wanted Damian by her side. That much, at least, was true.