I’d thought the flight from New York to Rome over a month ago had been hell. I hadn’t known how bad a flight could be.

We flew over twenty-four hours, stopping in LA and Paris to change planes. Multiple times I’d tried to switch places with Luc and give him a break from his cramped seat in coach, but he consistently refused. He said he was too busy reading his magazine or watching a movie on the screen in front of him. That or sleeping.

Several times, I’d caught him feigning sleep when I walked by. I wasn’t stupid, though. I knew he was avoiding me. I knew by the way he wouldn’t look me in the eye that he didn’t want to talk to me. And every time I touched the ring he’d slid on my finger before we’d left his island, I was even more confused about why and just where we went from here.

That ring wasn’t just any ring. It was as wide as my finger and completely covered my tattoo. It was also a solid circle of pear and round-shaped diamonds that formed delicate-looking flower patterns. I tried to tell myself the diamonds weren’t real, but the ring was thick and heavy, and in my gut, I sensed it had to cost a fortune.

By the time we landed in Rome, I still had no answers about us or what I should do next, and I was too tired to try to figure it all out. Grabbing my duffel from the conveyer belt in baggage claim before Luc could reach for it, I slung the strap over my shoulder and followed him toward Customs, not even knowing what time it was or where we were heading once we left the airport.

He didn’t speak to me but for a couple of grunts and nods of his head, telling me which way to go, and I was suddenly thankful for that. I needed sleep. I needed to recharge my batteries. I needed some time to plan a strategy for how I was going to get through to the man.

Humid darkness surrounded me when we stepped out of the airport. Mumbling for me to keep up, Luc crossed the street and entered the orange glow of the parking structure opposite the terminal. I followed, but frankly, I was too tired to jump when he snapped his fingers. And I was quickly nearing the point where I didn’t care about doing the man any favors.

A voice echoed from ahead, distracting me from my darkening mood. I looked up just as a man close to the same height as Luc threw an arm around Luc’s shoulder and captured him in one of those weird one-arm, man-hug things guys did when they greeted each other. The two spoke in Italian a bit, then Luc released the man and stooped to hug a petite woman with auburn hair pulled back in a neat tail, standing at the man’s side.

My eyes narrowed as I drew close. The woman didn’t look Italian. She wasn’t dark and olive skinned like a lot of the Italians I’d met on my last trip. As she drew away from Luc and smiled, I saw that her skin was fair, and her eyes were a striking pale green. And when she spoke—in English—I caught a very distinct British accent.

“Fee, Marco.” Luc turned, finally glancing my direction where I’d stopped several feet away, not wanting to interrupt their reunion. “This is Natalie.” He still didn’t meet my gaze, but I didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched in what was clearly an uncomfortable way when he added, “My wife.”

I probably should have been ticked by that reaction, but I was honestly too tired to feel anything besides numb. I held out my hand. “Hi.”

“Oh, Luc. She’s beautiful,” the woman said in that accent that seemed completely out of place in Italy. She captured my hand in both of hers. “It’s great to finally meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh really?” I glanced toward Luc, unable to keep the wariness from my eyes. They’d heard about me? The only thing I’d heard about them had come from Sela. Not from my so-called husband. “I can’t wait to find out what my husband has said about me.”

The man—Marco—chuckled. “A lot that I can already tell is true.”

I shifted my wary gaze his direction, but Marco only grinned, showing off twin dimples in his deeply tanned face, seemingly unfazed by my response. He was almost as tall as Luc, with the same dark Italian good looks, but he wasn’t nearly as handsome as Luc. Or as devastatingly sexy.

Marco closed his big hand over mine in a quick shake before releasing me. “All good, I promise. This is Felicity. You’ll be staying with us for a while. Our estate is perfectly safe.” He glanced toward Luc. “And the sooner we get there, the better.”

My conversations with Luc and Sela just before I’d left the island flashed in my brain, and I remembered what they’d both said about “rules.” It honestly seemed ridiculous in my fuzzy-headed state, but I didn’t have the strength to question any of it now.

“Sí.” Luc’s expression grew said somber. “Do they know we’re here?”

Marco turned and motioned for us to follow. “Not yet, but they will soon. Guarantee someone in the airport recognized you.”

“The Customs agent who passed us through went on break right after processing us.”

My gaze snapped Luc’s direction, but he didn’t look my way.

“We might run into trouble on the road,” Marco said. “Just to be safe, I think we should take the long way.”

“Agree,” Luc answered.

Trouble? I suddenly became very alert and very awake.

Marco stopped at a black Mercedes and popped the trunk. Luc tossed his bag in as Marco reached for the strap from my shoulder. Nodding toward the vehicle, Marco said, “Climb in. There’s water in the back in case you’re thirsty.”

I was suddenly too concerned about who that Customs agent could be alerting to think about thirst. Nerves jumping, I climbed into the backseat and latched my seat belt. Felicity slid in beside me while Luc took the front next to Marco.

No one spoke as we pulled out of the parking garage. The car was eerily quiet as we passed under one streetlight and the next. I’d only landed at this airport once before, but I already knew Marco was not taking us on the same route my driver had taken me then. Not only because we quickly left the airport grounds behind, but because the narrow country road we turned onto contained no streetlights and no other traffic.

My gaze skipped to Luc, his features illuminated by the dashboard in the front passenger seat, kitty-corner from my spot in the back, and I quickly realized what I’d missed in the airport and even earlier, on the flight.

The muscles in his shoulders were tense and rigid—every muscle in his body seemed on high alert. And for the first time, it dawned on me that his inability to talk to or even look at me might not have anything to do with me but have everything to do with the fact he was stressed to the max because he’d brought me back to this country.

“Don’t worry.” A warm, feminine hand slid over mine on the console between the back seats. “Marco knows all the safest routes.”

Blinking, I turned to look at Felicity’s dark profile, highlighted by the moonlight sliding in through the back windshield. “Safest doesn’t exactly put me at ease.”

She smiled. “Marco’s father was also great friends with Andrea de Cesaris. He learned all he knows about driving from Andrea.”

That meant nothing to me. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who that is.”

From the driver’s seat, Marco huffed. “Only the greatest driver in all of Formula One racing.”

Luc shot him a look. “Didn’t they call him Andrea de Crasheris because he crashed so often?”

“Just proves his dedication to the sport.” Glancing in the rearview at me, Marco added, “Don’t worry, cara, your husband’s just jealous because I drive better than him.”

Luc huffed and looked out the side window into the darkness. Chuckling, Marco refocused on the road, and beside me, Felicity grinned.

Neither Marco nor Felicity seemed overly stressed by our current situation, but my gaze kept straying back to Luc. To his tight jaw and the way every muscle in his body seemed ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

I sank back into my seat as silence settled over the car. But I couldn’t stop looking at Luc, and I suddenly wondered if maybe I should have stayed put on that island as he’d asked me to do.

It was well after one a.m. when we pulled onto Marco’s property. I hadn’t been able to sleep on the trip, but the second the gates closed behind us, I was sure my relief was palpable.

Since it was dark, I couldn’t see much of the property besides a long paved drive and tall arching trees similar to the kind that had lined Luc’s parents’ drive. Whereas Luc’s family property had sat on the top of a mountain, Marco’s was more flat, with rolling hills and what I thought were grape vines.

“Do you make wine?” I asked Felicity quietly in the back as we headed toward the lights of a large Tuscan-style house on a small rise.

“Everyone in Italy makes wine. Ours isn’t quite as good as the Salvatici wine—”

“Bite your tongue, woman,” Marco said from the front.

Felicity grinned and glanced up at the rearview mirror. She and Marco shared a heated look before she refocused on me. “But ours isn’t too bad.”

Marco huffed. “This year’s harvest is going to be better than ever.”

I couldn’t quite get a read on Felicity. Sela had hinted Marco had a wife. Felicity and Marco were definitely a couple—I picked up on that easily enough. But she didn’t wear a wedding ring, and neither did he. From what little I’d seen of her before climbing in the car, I hadn’t spotted any leopard-print tattoos that marked her as a kitten, but that could have been because it was dark. Regardless, I knew not to trust any of my first impressions with anyone in this country.

The villa was a massive structure made of stone with multiple levels and numerous cobbled rooflines jutting out in different directions. A tall archway framed an enormous gate-style door with iron scrollwork and ornate hinges, and a center tower rose above the main door high above the rest of the house.

It wasn’t quite as big as the Salvatici castle, but I could easily see that Marco’s family had money. “Does everyone in in this House live in a castle?” I muttered more to myself than anyone else.

“That’s not a castle,” Felicity said. “Castles are cold and stuffy. Technically, it’s a farmhouse.”

“Yeah, no castles for us,” Marco interjected from the front, shooting a teasing look Luc’s direction. “We’re peasants, unlike the royalty beside me.”

Luc huffed.

“This property’s been in Marco’s family for years,” Felicity said. “All the buildings you see here used to be part of a hamlet. That tall portion of the farmhouse was the watchtower. Marco remodeled the farmhouse but kept the tower just for fun.”

“Not for fun,” Marco said. “For security purposes. It’s awesome for spying on my neighbors.”

Felicity rolled her eyes and looked back at me. “Regardless, we like it.”

I was perfectly fine not staying in a castle. In fact, if I never saw another medieval castle again, the happier I’d be. The last time I’d been in one...

I shuddered at the memory and told myself not to go there.

Instead of stopping in front of the farmhouse as I expected, Marco bypassed the circular drive and followed the road to the right, down a slight hill, until we reached a smaller stone villa with a wide porch and steep cobbled roof. The exterior lights of the villa were lit up, shimmering off what I thought might be a lake opposite the house.

Marco killed the engine and popped the driver door. “Thought you two might be more comfortable in the guest villa.” He winked at Luc as he climbed out. “Being newlyweds and all.”

My gaze snapped to Luc in the front unbuckling his seat belt. Yes, we were technically newlyweds, though you’d never know by looking at us.

Nerves balled in my stomach all over again, reminding me I wasn’t nearly as exhausted as I thought. I didn’t catch Luc’s muttered response as he climbed out of the passenger seat, but I recognized his Italian, and I didn’t miss the definite bite in his tone that told me he wasn’t at all thrilled with Marco’s announcement.

My back tightened as I exited the vehicle and closed my door. I’d just traveled halfway around the world for the man. He could muster up a little gratitude even if he was grouchy.

Marco already had our bags before I could reach the trunk, so I followed him up the porch steps while Felicity moved inside the villa and began flipping on lights.

It was bigger than it looked from the outside. The walls were uneven rough rocks, the ceiling arched bricks. Two steps led down to the sunken living room decked out in plush, vibrant furnishings in golds and browns and pale blues. Brick columns separated the cozy living space from the dining room, and beyond, I could see a modern kitchen with granite counters. Wide French doors opened to a patio and dark view, and to my right I watched as Felicity pushed another door open, flipping on the light as she said, “This is the bedroom. There’s a full bath off the master. Through that door behind Natalie is a laundry room.”

Marco dropped our bags on the floor in the living room. “We stocked the fridge with general supplies, but if you both need or want something specific, let us know tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Luc answered, running a hand through his hair. He stood across the room from me, almost as far as he could get in the small space, and he still hadn’t looked at me. Not once since we’d left Tahiti.

I wanted to be aggravated by that, but I didn’t have the energy. Now that we were safe, my exhaustion was catching up with me again, and I knew his was as well. At some point tomorrow, I’d confront him about what was going on with us, but right now, all I wanted to do was sleep.

“It’s really nice,” I said, hoping I could hurry this along so I could get that sleep. “Thanks for letting us stay here.”

“No thanks needed.” Felicity moved up to Marco’s side and slid her arm around his waist. As he looped his arm over her shoulder, she said, “You’re welcome to come up to the house for breakfast, but we totally understand if you want to skip and sleep in. Our home is your home, so feel free to explore anywhere on the property.”

“Just don’t make plans to leave the grounds unaccompanied,” Marco said, steering Felicity toward the door. “Safer for the time being.” Over his shoulder, he called, “G’night you two.”

“Night,” Luc answered as they moved outside and the door clicked closed behind them.

I chewed on my lip in the silence, not particularly liking Marco’s last comment. I understood the meaning, but he’d made it sound as if I was a prisoner. Again. Not surrounded by water any longer, but by walls.

Luc crossed the room and grasped both of our bags. “You should unpack and get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

It had been. Longer than I’d anticipated.

Sighing, I followed him into the bedroom. The walls in here were also made of uneven stones and bricks, but the ceiling was peaked with dark wood beams, and the floor was slate, covered by a large central rug. An ornately carved headboard framed the king-sized bed decked out in a plush gold comforter and bountiful pillows. Across the space, a tangerine club chair and ottoman sat near an ancient stone fireplace. The nightstands and two dressers were antique dark woods, and the tall, rectangular crosshatched windows on both sides of the fireplace were framed with expensive draperies that matched the bedding. On the far side of the room, shutter-like wooden doors opened to the master bath, and wide arched windows I guessed looked out at an incredible country view.

The entire cottage was old-world and romantic, and I loved every part of it. I just hated the reason I was in it.

Luc set my bag on top of the horizontal dresser with an arching mirror, then moved to the tallboy dresser across the room and began unpacking his things. “Might as well make yourself comfortable,” he mumbled. “I don’t know how long we’re going to be here.”

That didn’t ease my frayed nerves any, but I was too tired to say so. Just as I was grabbing a pair of pj’s and my toothbrush from my bag, Luc kicked the bottom drawer of his dresser closed and turned for the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“In the other room. I have a few notes I need to make before I see my father tomorrow, and I don’t want to keep you up.”

My stomach tightened. “You’re seeing him tomorrow?”

“Yeah. That’s why we’re here, remember? So I can try to save Dante’s fucking life. And yours too.” He stepped into the living room and reached for the door handle at his back, still careful not to meet my gaze. “Get some sleep.”

The door closed with a snap that echoed like cannon fire through the small room. And, too numb to respond, I sank to the tangerine club chair and stared at the aged wooden door.

I didn’t need to be saved. I needed to be appreciated for the woman I was. I needed to be loved, the way he’d said he loved me in the South Pacific. The way I’d felt he loved me that last night in Tuscany before my world had imploded.

Tears burned the backs of my eyes as I looked down at the thick diamond band around my finger. Tears that weren’t just rooted in exhaustion but in frustration and pain as well.

How had things gotten so messed up? How had we wound up here—not just in Italy, but with stone walls towering between us? I didn’t know how to get through to him. I didn’t know if I even could anymore. And the longer I stared at my ring and the shapes created by the diamonds, the more I wondered if maybe it was time to stop trying.

Because through blurry vision, I realized those weren’t flower shapes created by the pear and round diamonds. They were butterflies.

Butterflies, I remembered with an uneasy feeling, which were a symbol of Monarch mind-control techniques.

The same mind-control techniques every beta kitten endured in her training.