The Wallflower's Revenge

Chapter 3: The Italian Duke

Sometimes a little bit of space is all you need to realize what you truly want.

-Unknown 

Lucca Cavelli's POV

I was still wondering if my decision had been correct in showing Tatiana the newspaper articles. I never thought that there were such people like her fiancé and stepsister who callously planned her death. Such things only happen in novels and drama series—for God's sake!

Now I am driving to Rome in my Ferrari because my business requires my attention and I thought this is also a good time to gather information about Tatiana Rostova. Right now, she was safe in my villa waiting for my return. I instructed my servants to call me immediately when my guest left without notice. I frowned slightly. I should have not bothered to seek information about the woman staying in my villa. In fact, this matter is none of my concern anymore. I saved her. She already expressed her gratitude and I should be sending her away now—but I didn't.

"I must be mad," I told myself. Usually, I don't permit any woman to take residence on my villa in Amalfi however short it may be. Because it's simply mine. I went there when I wanted to unwind away from the bustling city of Rome.

Hell! None of my previous mistresses had set foot on my Amalfi villa—they were in my Rome penthouse. So why did I let this woman stay there until she recovered fully? I didn't want to digest more of my impromptu decision.

Instead, I recalled our last conversation before I left...

"What do you intend to do now?" I asked her casually. Right now, the spitting madwoman a while ago was now gone. She was replaced by a delicate young woman in her mid-twenties whose expression remained passive.

"I don't know," she replied. She brought her white legs to her chest and hugged them, protecting herself. "Honestly, all I could think of at this moment is my desire for revenge on my ex-fiancé and stepsister."

I was amused but I saw steely determination on her face and remembered the old adage. "Hell, hath no fury like a woman scorned."

She glared at me. Her violet eyes shot like daggers. "I'm happy that I can provide your amusement."

"Forgive me, signorina." I bit back my laughter. "Why not stay here and figure it out what will be your next move?" I suggested. I didn't know who was more shocked, me or her? I, for actually inviting her to stay here—or her for thinking I've probably lost my bloody mind—maybe I had.

"Don't worry, signorina." I assured her when hesitation was evident to her eyes. "I need to go to Rome. My business requires my instant attention. I shouldn't be back until late in the afternoon."

"Why are you doing this to me?" She asked in bewilderment as I stood from my chair preparing my leave. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"I saved you, right?" I told her simply. Because the truth I have no idea either. "I intend to protect you."

Protect, indeed. I mused as I continue to drive to the gruesome traffic in Rome. I don't know why I was behaving like this towards Tatiana Rostova—maybe because she looked like a lost child over our breakfast that I feel the urge to protect her from any harm.

Right now, the only thoughts I have in my mind were to keep her safe and the growing hatred for her ex-fiancé and stepsister.

Tatiana Rostova's POV

Finally, I've been wearing my own clothes which I should be thankful that they washed them for me. They also gave me a pair of flat shoes because mine were lost at the sea last night. I felt I was back to my own element which I confessed wasn't comfortable wearing only the silk pajama top that probably belongs to Lucca Cavelli. I am not at ease when my legs are exposed and some silver-eyes boldly appreciate the sight of them. I like wearing my own things—my long dark-brown skirt and beige sweater which gives me the sense of protection.