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Despite the knot of negative emotion tangled in my gut, I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Italian pronunciation can be difficult.”

Bonnie grinned. “Once you’ve learned Gaelic, every other language feels like a breeze, trust me. But I am impressed with your English, and your accent is just lovely.”

“Thank you,” I demurred, even though I had been working diligently to squash my accent and was disheartened by her words.

“Now, I didn’t want to overwhelm you by introducing you to the staff right away when you’ve had an absolute time of it.” Her eyes skittered down my wedding dress, still stained with the blood of my father and brother, crumpled and dirtied from the steps of the Palermo Cathedral. “Why don’t I show you to your room and draw you a hot bath? While you rest, Gertie and I will put your things away, and I’ll have Chef Ilona whip you up something after you take a nice long nap, hmm?”

“How many staff are there?” I asked, even as I nodded and followed her lead up a huge curving staircase to the second floor.

“Well, I’m the estate manager, Gertie is the housemaid, we have Chef Ilona and her apprentice, Giulia, and then the grounds team, which consists of three lads. That’s not mentioning, of course, the security detail, which is always at least four men strong but can swell to as many as twelve when we have company. When you’re properly settled, we’ll get you introduced to the lot of them. Usually Signor Ferretti meets with Ilona and me once a week to discuss management of the house, but as his wife, those duties fall to you now.”

I hummed noncommittally as I studied the paintings stacked up the two-story walls of the foyer, some of them instantly recognizable as iconic classics by painters such as Picasso, Klimt, and Kahlo, an eclectic mix that somehow suited the grand, moody space. The rich navy walls and gray marbled staircase were slightly masculine, handsome instead of elegant, as was the dark-wood parquet flooring in the hall Bonnie led me down.

“Signor Ferretti’s suite connects to yours, but the door to the hallway is just at the end there,” Bonnie said, indicating the far wooden frame before opening the door to my room. “We call this the Fire Suite.”

As I stepped into the high-ceilinged room, it was instantly obvious why it had claimed that moniker. The walls and ceiling were a rich merlot red, the bedding a deep maroon with accents of velvet burnt orange and glistening ivory silks, and even the paintings had a similar color scheme or featured flames within them. But it was the enormous black marble, red-veined fireplace that took up nearly an entire wall that claimed my attention. I could stand inside it comfortably. Dozens of thick and thin cream pillar candles were littered across the mantel in candelabras, hurricane lamps, silver and gold candlesticks, and clustered on metal platters.

It was dreamy and sumptuous, a room that invited sensual fantasy and indulgent lounging.

Compared to my white, nearly virginal, and entirely too-girlish rooms at Papà’s house, this was beyond my wildest imaginings.

I wondered if Dario or his staff knew that my name, Fiammetta, meant little flame.

Bonnie smiled proudly at my obviously awed expression. “I’m glad you like it. Mr. Ferretti gave me permission to contact some of the staff at your father’s house, and we put our heads together to design this for you. Anna Maria and Carlotta send their love. It says lovely things about you that you are beloved of your father’s staff.”

I swallowed so hard I nearly choked.

This was yet another indication that the cold, cruel stranger who wore my ring on his finger wasn’t a complete stronzo.

“Why don’t you take a shower and crawl into bed?” Bonnie continued, moving to the door on the same wall as the huge wooden four-poster bed before opening it to reveal a gold-veined marble bathroom. “The girls and I will unpack for you in the closet just on the other side of the bathroom.”

“Thank you, Bonnie,” I said, impulsively reaching out to snag and squeeze her hand. “It means something to me that you’ve been so kind and welcoming. Coming from another country, leaving my family . . .” I trailed off as a sob threatened to loosen from my gut. Bonnie’s eyes trailed down the bloodstained bodice of my gown before meeting mine again filled with sympathy. “It hasn’t been easy.”

“No,” Bonnie agreed softly, squeezing my hand back before releasing it. “And I reckon it won’t be for a good long while, child. But you don’t have to be alone in it. The staff here are all good eggs, and they’ll have your back, yeah?”

I nodded, my voice caught behind that sob lodged at the back of my throat.

“Good,” she murmured before gently shoving me toward the bathroom. “Now get clean, and we’ll get you sorted in no time.”

I did as she bid me as if I was an automaton, going through the motions in the enormous marbled shower of washing the dried blood from my skin and hair, drying myself with a luxe towel, and then donning a pair of silk pajamas Bonnie or one of the girls had unearthed from my luggage and lain out for me on the sink basin. I could hear the low murmur of their voices as I left the bathroom, the door to the adjoining walk-in closet partially closed to allow me some privacy. It made me feel better, somehow, knowing I wasn’t entirely alone in this colossal unknown home an ocean and a continent away from my family.

What was left of it.

Just get into bed, I coaxed myself as I shuffled across the lush carpet and pulled back the covers, and then you can cry.

I slid under the cool silk sheets and let the heavy weight of the layered blankets soothe me. It was dark in the room, dark enough for me to stare at the ceiling and replay the events of the last twenty-four hours across the blank screen.

Papà hugging me in the vestibule. The sight of him on the marble steps of the cathedral, his eye blown out in a mass of gore and seeping blood.

Beppe face down in a pool of red.

Ricco’s pale, sweating face as he struggled to instruct me on how to save his life.

Niccolo’s prone body at the base of the stairs, broken at odd angles.

A sob exploded from my lips just as I muffled my mouth in the silk pillow.

Not even in my loneliest moment at the villa had I ever felt so deeply, fundamentally alone.