Vittore had drained his glass and was now looking at the empty bottle of wine.
‘Go down and get me another bottle of this,’ he said to Maria.
Anything to keep you happy, you pig, she thought, and she went through to their small kitchen – nowhere near as grand as Mama’s – and opened the cellar door. It was then that she heard movement behind her, and started to turn as she stood at the top of the cellar steps, her hand reaching for the light switch. Below her, darkness yawned like the mouth of hell. She hated the cellar, it gave her the creeps.
The crashing blow on the back of her head was so hard that it was a sheer sickening impact, she felt barely any pain at all. She teetered forward, her feet slipping from underneath her, and went hurtling end over end down the steps, crying out just once, very briefly; then she was silent.
The poker still in his hand, Vittore flicked the switch. Light flooded the cellar, showing the neat rows of bottles stored down there – and Maria, crumpled in a heap at the base of the steps. Vittore descended the stairs slowly. When he got to the bottom he bent over Maria. Her eyes were wide open but they didn’t see him. Where he’d struck her, there was no blood; nothing at all. He reached down, felt her neck which was bent at an extreme angle. Not a pulse, no sign of life.
‘Basta!’ he cursed her, and just to make sure he hit her head once more, as hard as he could, with the poker, hearing the crunch as her skull split open.
Then, panting, he made his way back up the stairs, flicking off the light behind him, closing the cellar door. He went through to the lounge, put the poker down on the hearth; then he phoned Jay, and told him what he wanted done.
75
Gino’s was a small Italian place not on Kit’s manor and not on the Danieris’ patch either. He took a table near the door so he could keep an eye out for Bianca in case she showed. He thought that maybe she wouldn’t; that he’d blown all his chances with her, and maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing. But… he couldn’t wait to see her again. Stupid, self-destructive though that might be, it was the truth.
When she came in through the door he felt that same dry-mouthed, heart-thumping excitement he’d felt the very first time he’d seen her. She was dressed in white, taking off her thin summer coat to reveal a crocheted white minidress. It had some sort of flesh-coloured lining, so that you could almost think she was naked underneath, but she wasn’t.
He stood up and she turned, her eyes meeting his. Her expression was very serious, her face paler than ever. Carrying a small clutch bag, she came over to where he sat. Kit kissed her on the mouth. The waiter hurried to hold out her seat.
‘Thank you,’ she said, sitting down.
‘You OK?’ asked Kit. She looked washed out, as if she’d been crying.
‘Bad day,’ she said with a little twist of a smile.
‘Well, let’s have a good evening, take the sting out of it,’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ she said, her eyes holding his. ‘Let’s.’
The waiter came, brought bread and water, took their drinks order, gave them menus.
‘Actually, I don’t think I’m very hungry,’ said Bianca, perusing the appetizing treats on offer. She felt that if she ate a single morsel, she would throw it straight back up. Sitting across the table from him seemed surreal. She could still hardly believe it. This was not Tony. This was him. The evil creature who might have stolen Tito’s life away. The one who had insulted their entire family. The one who had wounded Vittore.
‘You sure you’re OK?’ Kit frowned at her. She looked sickly, as if she was coming down with something. Jesus, she could be pregnant for all he knew. Carrying his baby. The thought of it was so sweet and at the same time so painful, given that he knew such a thing could never be.
‘I’m fine. As I said, bad day.’
‘You want to talk about it?’
‘No. I don’t.’
‘Might help.’
‘Trust me. It won’t.’ She went back to studying the menu. ‘I’ll have the carbonara,’ she said, putting it aside. She wouldn’t eat it. She couldn’t. She felt sick to her stomach just being here, just looking at him, just breathing the same air. She couldn’t believe she’d been weak enough to sleep with him again, even when she knew who and what he was; she hated herself for it.
‘Me too.’ Kit put his menu on top of hers. The waiter came back, took their order. Kit was watching her. She didn’t look him in the eye.
‘Bianca? We have to discuss this.’
‘I can’t. Not right now,’ she said, and sat there in stony silence until their meals arrived. At which point she said: ‘I can’t eat this.’
Kit hadn’t even picked up his knife and fork.
‘Were you ever planning to tell me you’re not Tony Mobley?’ she asked. ‘If I hadn’t seen you at Vito’s, would you ever have told me the truth?’
Kit felt his guts turn over as she spoke the words.
Ah shit, he thought. ‘I didn’t know you were part of that family.’
‘My brothers think you could be the one who killed Tito.’ Now her voice shook with stifled emotion. ‘I loved Tito. When I was a girl, I could always turn to him. I adored him.’
‘Jesus…’
A tear escaped, spilled over and ran down her cheek. She stared at him, eyes red-raw with pain. ‘I loved him so much!’
‘Bianca, wait-’
‘No! I think you knew who I was, right from the start.
And then – what? – I suppose you thought you’d have a game with me? Not content with wrecking my family, you thought you’d have even more revenge on us? You weren’t finished there. You thought, I know, I’ll fuck the brains out of the sister too, I’ll make her believe I love her and shag her senseless – is that how it was?’
‘No,’ said Kit. ‘It wasn’t like that. I didn’t know you were a Danieri. I didn’t.’
‘Then why the lie about your name? Come on. I would really like to understand.’
‘Bianca! I had no idea who you were when I first met you. None at all. It was never about revenge, it was never about Tito – although I honestly believed that he killed Michael, the man who was like a father to me. It was never about that with you and me. I saw you and I wanted you. Straight away. It was like a fucking thunderbolt or something. That’s never happened to me before.’
‘It’s never happened to me, either. Before.’ She grabbed a tissue out of her bag, mopped irritably at her face.
‘I never meant to hurt you,’ said Kit. ‘You’ve got to believe that.’
‘Why should I believe a word you say? You lied to me, didn’t even tell me your real name.’
Kit was shaking his head. ‘I made up a name because that’s what men do when they’re out shagging around, Bianca.’
‘Oh, thanks for that,’ she said, her mouth dropping open in outrage.
‘Listen. When men want casual sex, they don’t give their real names, they’d be a cunt to do that. And that’s what I was doing, until I met you. And you know what? The minute I said that stupid name I wished I hadn’t. I wanted to be honest with you, because – for fuck’s sake! – it was something special with you. It meant a lot. Ever since then, it’s been killing me. When you told me that you’re Tito’s and Vittore’s and Fabio’s sister, I knew you were going to hate me. I just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon, that’s all. That we’d have more time.’