Everything was ready for her employers’ arrival, and she’d taken a short nap that afternoon in preparation for a late evening, as she always did when Dr. Vecchio or Ms. De Novo was in residence. They stayed in the villa if they needed to use the library for research. She knew they had an estate near Florence, but they preferred to stay in the convenient rooms her former employer had renovated on the second floor.
What they needed the California letters for, she had no idea. But she was a librarian. Her task was to conserve and organize the information, not ask questions.
Written by a young, well-connected Franciscan in Rome, the documents Ms. De Novo had requested were addressed to “my dear friend, Brother Rafael of Mission San Jose” in California. The first were dated in 1798 and the last in 1803. Five years of the earliest correspondence in Mission-era California. They were… not terribly interesting, in Fina’s opinion. Speaking mostly of church matters, the earliest were written in a familiar tone. She hadn’t had time to read them all yet. The most curious thing was the identity of the writer. “Father P—” was the only designation given.
There were inquiries about the establishment of the mission. A few mentions of holidays, university classes, and mutual acquaintances with very prominent names. These Franciscans were far from country brothers, which made the assignment of the Spanish priest to the California missions rather unusual.
Yes, definitely materials better sorted out in the De Novo Library.
But it was not Fina’s job to decide these things. In the two years she’d worked for the Vecchio-De Novo family, she had experienced far more than the usual quirks her colleagues at private libraries reported.
But then, as far as she knew, their employers were entirely human.
“Mama!” Her son, Enzo, called from the front garden. “I think I see the car!”
The winter sun had fallen several hours before, and Enzo was looking forward to their company.
It was a quiet life she and her son lived in Perugia, which did not bother Fina, though the country was beginning to chafe at Enzo, twelve years old and the center of her universe.
Enzo, books, and the odd request from vampire employers. It wasn’t the life she thought she’d be living twelve years ago when she finished her time at university, but it had given her independence when her family had shunned her. She was from a small town outside of Venice, and though her parents paid lip service to sophistication, the reality of an unwed daughter expecting a baby made them balk.
Only her grandmother had remained in contact after Enzo was born. And she’d lost her nonna when her son was only five.
It was losing Nonna that had hurt the most. Fina had always been a quiet child. It was Nonna who had encouraged her to follow her dreams.
“Fina, dreams will not come to you. You must go out and chase them.”
She’d chased them all the way to university, before she’d been swept off her feet and into her professor’s bed. His scoffing rejection of her and the baby they’d produced had caused her to retreat.
In her heart, she knew Nonna would be disappointed. But Fina lived for Enzo now. His happiness and security were far more important than her own.
She felt far older than thirty-eight years. She lived alone and didn’t fit with the friendly, domestic mothers in the village where her son went to school. Yet rarely could she leave the library that had been her responsibility for twelve years to go to professional conferences or gatherings of her peers. Not only was she a single mother, but the Vecchio Library was her creation. Other than Enzo, its organization was her greatest achievement.
She supposed few would understand that.
Another set of letters caught her eye, tucked into the front pocket of the briefcase on the edge of the table and filed in a manila envelope. Those letters were not written by an eighteenth-century Franciscan but a somewhat mysterious colleague at the Vatican library in Rome.
She’d never met Zeno Ferrara, but the former priest turned immortal had been introduced to her—via handwritten letter, of course—by Dr. Vecchio. In the past two years, Ferrara had offered her a wealth of information regarding anything to do with church history. And though Ferrara was no longer a priest, he still worked at the Vatican Library in some unknown capacity.
They had never met. But through the odd intimacy of their correspondence, Fina had begun to wish that they could.
It was silly, she supposed.
And yet, the often terse letters Ferrara sent had lately shown evidence of… something.
“My dear Signora Rossi, I wonder whether I should be flattered or annoyed by your persistence. Are you always this forward?”
Forward? If she was forward, he was the only one who had ever implied it. The irritating man had put off her question about Pope Alexander VI for over three weeks. When he finally did answer, his letter was so thorough it could have been submitted to an academic journal.
“…I wonder if I should be flattered or annoyed…?”
Flattered? The implication brought a hint of the furious blush to her cheeks that had plagued her since childhood.
“Surely a young woman has better ways of spending a weekend than organizing papal correspondence. Or are the charms of Perugia such that you seek excitement from church relics?”
Well, really.
What kind of man became a priest and then a vampire, anyway? Did he look like the priests she’d grown up with, paternal men with cheerful faces and kind eyes? Or would he look like the vampires she’d met when Dr. Vecchio or Ms. De Novo had brought visitors? Beautiful—almost all the vampires she’d met were beautiful—but remote. Cold. Her employers seemed to be exceptions to the rule. From the wry humor that slipped through Signore Ferrara’s letters, she thought Signore Ferrara might be, too. Their letters had begun professionally but became familiar. Past his quips, Fina could see that Zeno Ferrara had a passion for his work that she could appreciate.
What would he look like?
She couldn’t imagine. And, she supposed, it was better that she didn’t. Ferrara was a colleague. It behooved her to remain aloof should they ever meet. Daydreaming about what the vampire’s eyes might look like was a childish distraction.
She heard the car doors slam shut, then Enzo began shouting in rapid Italian despite the English she’d so carefully tutored him in.
“Dr. Vecchio, this car is—”
“Please, Enzo.” A laughing voice interrupted her son. “You must call me Giovanni. How many times have I asked now?”
“My mother would not want me to be so informal, Signore.”
“Signore Giovanni, then,” a woman’s voice suggested. “And Signora Beatrice for me.”
“If you like,” Enzo said politely just as Fina reached the door.
“Dottore, Signora,” she said, holding out a hand as their driver stowed the car and himself… somewhere. There was always a near-invisible human servant or driver escorting the Vecchio-De Novos everywhere they went. They didn’t carry phones or briefcases; the driver did. Fina had almost become accustomed to it. “Welcome,” she said. “It is so good to see you.”
“Please, Fina,” Beatrice pled with her. “Please call me Beatrice. There is no need to be so formal.”
Fina hesitated. She’d allowed herself to become familiar with her former employer—going so far as to consider Paulo a friend—only to discover after he had died that he was not a good man at all, but rather a vicious monster who had killed many, including Beatrice’s own father. Only for Serafina and Enzo had he redeemed himself. Paulo—Lorenzo—had reserved all of his humanity for them.
She didn’t know why. She would never understand. But she had learned caution. Things were not always what they appeared to be in the vampire world.
But if her employers wished her to be more familiar, she would be.
“Of course,” she said with a smile. “Beatrice. Giovanni. How are you both?”
“Well, thank you,” Giovanni replied. “As always, we appreciate your accommo
dating us.”
“Of course. Signora Giannini has prepared the upstairs rooms for you if you’ll be staying here.”
“We will be,” Beatrice said. “Thanks, Fina.” Beatrice’s eyes lit up. “Now, let’s see those letters.”
Fina saw Enzo’s face fall, just a little. He masked it quickly.
But not too quickly for Giovanni to have caught it.
“I’d love to stretch my legs a bit,” he said, kissing Beatrice with easy affection. “Why don’t you and Fina start and maybe I could trouble Enzo to kick a ball with me for a bit.”
“Yes, of course,” the boy exclaimed. “Let me go to the house.”
Fina glanced down at Doctor Vecchio’s impeccably polished shoes.
“Dottore—”
“Again,” he interrupted. “Please, call me Giovanni. And I am happy to play a bit of football with your son if he is willing to indulge me.” He winked at her. “My nephew is too busy for me these days. And Enzo is a good boy.”
Fina’s heart melted. “Of course. He is very excited to have you both visit.”
Beatrice smiled. “We’ve been looking forward to seeing him, too.” She hooked Fina’s arm with hers. “Now, let’s leave the boys to their games and go look at my letters.”
“She’s so lonely,” Beatrice said later that night, after she and Giovanni had locked themselves in the secure, lightproof room on the second floor of the library. Rudy, the young valet Caspar was training, had taken the small room off the garage.
“Who?” He frowned, looking up from the book he’d been reading. “Serafina?”
“Mmhmm.” Beatrice pulled her earrings off and set them on the dresser in the lavish suite Lorenzo had designed. They hadn’t had time to redecorate it, but it wasn’t as ostentatious as most of Giovanni’s late son’s holdings. “I think she works too much. This library is her life.”
Giovanni frowned, as if he didn’t quite understand why that was a problem.
Her husband. Five hundred years old, and still somewhat clueless about the female of the species.
“So what is it that you want to do?” he asked. “Move the library? We cannot do that. I mean, we could, but it would be horribly wasteful. Lorenzo may have been a monster, but this facility…”
It was the one thing that his son had ever done right. Possibly the only humanity Lorenzo had retained. And she knew it was one of the reasons Giovanni liked to be here. Maybe why he hadn’t changed a thing. Not even their room.
“I don’t want to move the library,” she said. “The library is perfect.” The slight tension in his shoulders disappeared. “And I think Fina likes to be here. She’s a quiet person. But maybe we should make an effort to see that she leaves occasionally. Think about it, Gio.”
“She’s isolated here.” He nodded. “Yes, I can see that.”
“She’s estranged from her family. She and her son occupy that weird between place of living in both the vampire world and the human one. It’s not like she’s in LA where Enzo could go to Ben’s school and be around other day people’s children. Who does she confide in? Where does she vent?”
Giovanni said, “I hadn’t thought of that. But you’re correct. If I think about our human employees at home, they mostly socialize with us or other vampire employees. There is a community there. Here, there is none.”
“Matt and Dez. My grandma and Caspar. Rudy has already become friendly with everyone. Fina has no one here. If she were closer to Rome…” Beatrice shrugged.
“It’s not even three hours by car. She could visit there if she liked. Even use the house in town. Angela would love it.”
Beatrice smiled. “We need to offer it to her. She would never ask. She’s still so formal with us.”
It bothered Beatrice. Unlike many immortals, who chose not to grow attached to their mortal helpers, she considered most of their employees family. Granted, she was young. She knew it would be harder to bear the loss over hundreds, possibly thousands, of years. But Giovanni treated them the same, and he was far older than her.
Beatrice stripped, the feeling of cool air against her sensitive skin welcome after the stifling confinement of winter clothes. She now understood why her husband preferred to be naked. Any clothing was uncomfortable, though it was a discomfort she had learned to live with. She shuddered to think about the poor immortals who had lived through more restrictive fashion periods of history. Corsets? No, thank you.
But one had to blend. It kept the rest of the world comfortable. Beatrice still felt, in many ways, very human. Though there were differences between them, her best friend and assistant, Dez, was still her closest confidante. And though she’d once been a loner, she had created close relationships with her vampire family and her friends.
But still, Fina kept her distance. No doubt, the revelations about Lorenzo had shaken her. But the woman was still there. She could have run away, but she’d stayed. Probably for the books.
Glancing at her husband, whose nose was back buried in his novel, she decided it was definitely for the books.
“You know what?” Beatrice mused. “She’s kind of… you. A human female version of you.”
“What?” He looked up, frowning. “Who’s me?”
She smiled as she sauntered over to the bed. Dawn was still an hour or so away, so her mate would have plenty of energy. And Beatrice decided that he definitely needed distracting. She crawled up the bed and took the book from his hands, setting it on the side table.
“Mmm,” he murmured. “Hello, my wife.”
She straddled his legs and brushed the hair off his forehead. He’d been wearing his dark brown curls long again.
“Oh yeah,” she said, leaning down to bite the edge of his ear. “You’re definitely pulling off the sexy, yet distracted, professor thing.”
“I am not distracted anymore.”
He put both hands on her hips, teasing the lace of her panties where they lay on her skin. Now that sensation, she enjoyed.
“I was saying that Serafina is a female, human version of you, Professor.”
“Hmm.” His fangs fell, and he traced them lightly over the skin on her neck. “That’s ‘Dottore’ to you. And let us conference on this particular topic at another time, Signorina. I don’t find it pertinent to the topic at hand.” His hand stroked down and cupped her under her panties.
“Oh, Dottore Vecchio,” she whispered. “I’m not sure we should be having this conversation. It seems so unprofessional.”
“It’s highly unprofessional,” he said. Giovanni swiftly rolled them over so she was under him, and within seconds, the delicate lace panties were scraps on the floor.
Then, Beatrice’s husband proceeded to ace every single sexy-professor fantasy she’d ever had. With honors.
“You’re incredibly detail oriented,” she panted hours later. “Yay for me.”
His cheeks were flushed with the blood he’d taken from the inside of her thigh. “I pride myself on being thorough.”
“Well done.”
He grabbed her chin and covered her mouth in a hard kiss, which slowly turned soft as he settled next to her in bed. She could feel the dawn coming in her blood. Giovanni still slept during the day, and on mornings when she’d taken his blood, she could sleep a little herself. Her own special version of afterglow.
“You know,” he said, his eyes closing. “If you think Serafina is a female version of me, then all she really needs to be happy is her own version of you, Tesoro.”
Beatrice smiled and slid over to rest next to him, her body relaxed but her mind humming.
Another version of herself? Thinking of the letters she’d spotted peeking out of Fina’s briefcase, an idea began to form.
It was Christmas in Italy. Perhaps Beatrice could work a little magic of her own.
“You want Enzo and me to join you in Rome?” Fina looked between Giovanni and Beatrice with wide eyes. “For Christmas? I am very flattered to be asked, but—”
“Don’t feel flattered, Fin
a, feel welcome,” Beatrice urged her. “Please join us. We don’t know many people in the city, and we’d love to have you and Enzo join us. Surely you won’t be working while he’s on holiday from school.”
“Well no, but—”
Giovanni said, “Holidays are always so much more enjoyable with children around.”
“Even though you heathens don’t exchange presents until January,” Beatrice muttered.
He turned to her. “Again? We’re having this argument again?”
“Epiphany. I have to wait until January to get presents. So unfair.”
“Such an American,” Giovanni said before he turned back to Fina. “My housekeeper in Rome is beside herself that we came without Ben, though he is hardly a child any longer. Angela would be delighted to have both of you come with us.”
Could she? Most Christmases with Enzo were quiet affairs. She would build a small ceppo and fill it with lights and small gifts, always letting Enzo put the star on the top. She hung gold lights in the house and baked the panatone her grandmother had taught her.
“Sweet bread for a sweet year, my Serafina.”
Gifts were often small when Enzo was young and she didn’t have much money to spare, but the little presents always appeared like magic to his child’s eyes. Christmas was quiet. Simple. She liked it that way.
“Per favore, Mama! Please, please, can we go to Rome? I want to hear the pipes and flutes and there are all the trees. Please, Mama! I can tell all my friends—”
“Enzo, we do not boast of generosity,” she whispered to her son. “Dottore Vecchio and—”
“Beatrice and Giovanni,” her employer said, smiling, “would be very happy if you joined them.” Then Giovanni nudged Enzo’s shoulder and said, “And you should definitely hear the zampognari and pifferai. Though I warn you, some are quite bad.” He laughed. “We’ll find some good ones for you.”
All the Stars Look Down: A Duo of Christmas Romances Page 9