Out of the Dark by April Emerson Page A

time I’ve seen her out of uniform. Instead of her usual black, she wears a red cotton dress. The plunging V-neck highlights her enviable figure. Her dark blond hair is down in waves, and her nude shoes look expensive. She still wears her oval glasses, and a small clutch is tucked under her arm.
    Needless to say, I feel underdressed in my white pants and nice black top. Bianca is a straight-up knockout, and I can see why she is so lusted after, not only by Rocco but by Fabrizio as well.
    The afternoon sun shines down on us as we exit the main house of the estate. We get in a red sports car, another beautiful machine that my father would have drooled over.
    “Is this car yours?”
    She turns the key and the engine purrs. “It was my husband’s.”
    Was her husband’s? Maybe she’s not married to Rocco.
    I can no longer be polite. I have to know Bianca’s story. “Can I ask you a personal question, Bianca?”
    “ Si .” She stares straight ahead as she drives with a reckless abandon that has me gripping the door handle.
    “Is Rocco your husband?” I prepare for the possible anger that may erupt.
    “Yes. Well, he is my second husband.”
    “Where is your first husband?”
    When she turns to look at me, her face is cold, emotionless. She looks me straight in the eye as she speaks. “He is dead.”

Chapter Five

    My pity for Bianca multiplies as we drive, and I look out at the countryside, pondering this new piece of Bianca’s puzzle.
    “What was his name?” I ask, keeping my eyes fixed on the horizon.
    “Roman.”
    “What did he do?”
    She clears her throat. “He worked for Mr. Savano.”
    “Is that how you met?”
    “No. I did not work for Mr. Savano until after Roman died.”
    “How did he die? I mean, if you don’t want to talk to me about it, I understand.”
    She adjusts in her seat. “No, I don’t mind telling you. There was . . . an accident.” She rubs her forehead, and the memory seems to be painful. “Roman was my life. I loved him so much. We met when I was just a girl, barely fifteen years old, but he was much older. He lived close by, and I’d always admired him from afar. When I was old enough it was no longer a scandal, we began to see each other and got married very fast. He made good money working for Mr. Savano, and he was a good provider. I never had to work or want for anything.” She smiles and seems lost in the memories brushing past her now. “We were trying to have a baby—”
    Her voice cracks, and I see the pain flash across her face.
    “When he died, I had nothing. I found that he had not saved any of the money he had made. I was afraid. I have no education, so there is not much work. I have no family left . . . there was nowhere for me to go. I was facing a life in poverty.” She smooths her dress as she speaks, her thankfulness for the fine clothes subconsciously declaring itself. “Because my husband worked for Mr. Savano for so many years, he took mercy on me and offered me a job. I would have been lost without his help. Mr. Savano saved my life.”
    “And that’s how you met Rocco?”
    “Yes. Rocco was, and is, Mr. Savano’s right hand. Rocco was interested in me as soon as we met, in spite of the fact he knew Roman. He made no secret of it. He was always flirting and touching me. But I was in mourning for my husband, and I did not want to disgrace his memory by getting involved with another man. Second marriages are not looked upon favorably in this country. The church does not forgive that kind of sin. But Rocco would not be dissuaded. When I continued to refuse him, he sought out Mr. Savano’s advice . . . his permission.”
    “What do you mean by that? Permission? ”
    “Rocco believed Mr. Savano viewed me as his property since I worked for him.”
    I couldn’t imagine Stefan thinking of her that way. I couldn’t believe it.
    I won’t believe it .
    “But he doesn’t. That’s ridiculous. Do you think Stefan sees you that way? Does he