◇ KEL ◇ Me? In love with Miles?

◆ MILES ◆"Vases? Stuffing them in stupid jars? Really?" I watched my mother sit back in the elegant swivel chair. At my tone, her perfect brows creased and her reaction denoted confusion. "A ten-year-old could come up with better ideas, Mamma." I sighed and bit back the urge to swear. What I'd discovered just minutes ago now convinced me how big of a mistake it was to ask Mykaela to come with us.Where the heck was my father and cousin? But my mother being here should be able to straighten out a few things; I had a nagging feeling she knew all about it.Just another branch of the family business, seemed like. Impatiently, I paced around the study room filled with books and paperwork. I couldn't help but examine my mother's flimsy attempt at pretending to be busy.My Mamma Eleana sat behind a large desk, her prim manicured fingers flipping through the pages of a ledger. On the desk stood piles and piles of paperwork. A teacup the same white shade as her wrinkle-free dress sat next to a

◇ KEL ◇ Face and neck damp with sweat, I glanced to the other fully conscious person in the room. I opened the door wider and quietly stepped in.Ricchar watched his wife closely as he rested on the wrinkled comforter. Then he looked at me when I stayed slouching by the door.  "Grazie."His wife remained still on the single bed. Cloe's face and extremities were no longer covered in her own blood. The exhaustion had knocked her out before her wounds got stitched and bandaged carefully—I had to stitch up the biggest ones to ward off infections.Ricchar and the guards trusted my first aid skills and training enough to let me do whatever I thought would help Cloe best.  To our advantage, the Falcos' former medical staff had stocked first aid drugs and enough medical supplies in the mansion's basement, vital in cases such as this. The cold, dry basement was perfect for stocking emergency meds and supplies.

◇ KEL ◇  What on Earth's happening?

◆ MILES ◆Every punch, every strike, every heavy blow to the head had the guy shouting profanities at the armed men beating him till he could barely speak. I winced and watched from afar. Fortunately, I wasn't the one hanging from thick, long chains, clutching onto them as if my life depended on it.The guy in shackles lifted his head while the rest of his bruised body helplessly swayed. The taller goon toyed with a baseball bat, using it to hit Niccolo's outstretched limbs."Figlio— Cazzo!" Niccolo's handcuffed wrists stayed attached to a concrete beam. Metal clanking against metal echoed within the cold walls of the basement. We all watched the Vinciguerra heir suffer. At least he still had the energy to swear out loud.I scowled when Niccolo glared at me again. Utter hostility hardened the guy's darkened eyes as I stood in the corner. Watching. Waiting.Did Niccolo blame me? It wasn't my fault we ended up here. He made the choice to betray my trust; the guy even tried to black