One year ago...
I hiccup and clap a hand over my mouth.
I rarely drink, but the champagne went down far too easily tonight. I need to lie down upstairs until my head clears. My parents are entertaining guests from out of town, so sneaking away shouldn't be a problem with about fifty people in the house.
I grasp the railing to steady myself and climb the darkened staircase at the back of the house. During the early nineteen-hundreds, a large household staff employed by the Valentini family used this set of steps to move unobtrusively throughout the mansion. A shadow looms over me when I reach the second floor. Even though I can't make out his features, my body instinctively senses his presence.
Regardless of my feelings for Roman Santori, I'm fully aware of him on a physical level.
