Chapter 7

SCARLETT'S P.O.V.

I sneezed for the hundredth time, growing increasingly annoyed at the dust in the room. For heaven's sake, this room was cleaned not too long ago; it shouldn't be this dusty. Perhaps I was coming down with something, or maybe...maybe this room was spelt by some mystical force to always be dusty. Whatever, I couldn't wait to be out of here. It was the weekend, which meant I'd have to clean the storage rooms, pantry, and less important rooms; and by less important rooms I meant the drawing rooms. Yes, this manor has a freaking drawing room. I mean, I shouldn't be too surprised given the luxury this place screamed, but then it already had a living room, an outdoor garden, a lounge of some sort, and even a study. I saw no reason for drawing you, but oh well. As I hummed to myself, my eyes caught a portrait that I hadn't initially seen. Perhaps it's because it was discreetly hidden behind a curtain, close to the fireplace. Fishing it out, I'm once again hit with a wave of dust, causing me to sneeze. Quite heavily this time. A couple of sneezes later, as well as wiping the dust off the painting, an amazed gasp slipped out of me.

"Woah." Before me was a beautiful man. I can't tell if that was the best adjective to describe him with, but I'd go with it. He was beyond gorgeous, much unlike anyone I had ever laid my eyes upon. I also couldn't help but admire the artists' work. It was done to perfection: the contour of his face, the highlights. The colour of his eyes, the coldness his eyes showed, the darkness of his hair. Even from the picture, this man's aura screamed power. Still, that didn't stop me from being entranced by his beauty.

"My, my, you are one gorgeous fella, mister. Shane, I won't be able to see you in person." I snickered to myself, tilting my head and scrunching my brows when I noticed a writing at the corner of the painting. It was a name.

"Luciano De Luca." I had heard that name before, certainly. I didn't remember where or when, but I knew I had. Judging by the coarse nature of the painting, I could tell it was most likely a relic of a forgotten era, its edges darkened with age and varnish worn thin by time. But even at that, there was not a scratch on it; it looked well preserved for its age.

Breathing deeply, I mumbled, "Luciano De Luca, Luciano De Luca...where have I heard that name before?" It took me a few seconds before it suddenly clicked like a lightbulb. Savannah, when I had first stepped into the manor, Savannah had told me about a certain Lucaino De Luca. It was then the dots began to connect: the De Luca manor; this man was Luciano De Luca. Savannah had once told me that the east wing belonged to a certain Luciano De Luca. My eyes flickered over to the portrait. Could it be...no, no, no, no, no. No way, absolutely impossible. There was no way this man was still alive. I mean, come on, look at the painting. It looks like it was done in the early 1000s. Perhaps it was one of his descendants who bore the same name as him. Yeah, of course. There was no way this dude was still alive. Or was there? A sudden chill ran down my spine as I shivered, shaking away the thoughts. Fuck no.

Forcing away the ridiculous thoughts, I hurried up with the cleaning before going in search of Savannah. Luckily, I found her relaxing in the lounge, sipping a cup of what I presumed to be tea while reading a book.

"Hey Sav, how are you?" I smiled, slipping into the couch opposite her.

"Scarlett, darling, I'm very well. Thank you. How are you?" She graced me with a smile, placing her cup on the side table next to her, glancing at me.

"I'm good, thanks. Aren't you a bit bored out here all by yourself?" I asked, trying to make small talk before getting into the matter that brought me here.

She chuckled, "Bored? With my novel? Never; you can never be bored with a good book. You should try it out sometime." I scrunched my face at that; I wasn't a novel person. I found it boring and too cliché. Girls and books, romantic ones at that.

"Uhh, no thanks." She chuckled once more at my expression before returning to her book. Silence reigned upon us for a while as I debated how best I'd bring up the topic.

"I can see the wheels turning in your head, Scar. What is it?" She spoke up, breaking the silence.

"I...I don't know the perfect way to ask this without seeming intrusive or being a pokenoser. Believe me, I wasn't trying to snoop, but then I just saw it, and I became curious. And I was like, Hey, maybe Sav would know...." I nervously wiped my palms against my dress. Ever since the night Miss Hawton had caught me trying to sneak into the east wing, she's been careful around me. I knew she was watching me, but she didn't treat me differently. I was just scared that she'd think I was snooping again even after her warning, which I was not.

"Scar--" She interrupted calmly, placing her book next to her. "Breathe. Now, tell me what's bothering you."

Exhaling, "Okay, so I was being a good girl, doing my job dutifully, when I came across something. A portrait of a man. A very gorgeous and intimidating man. He had beautiful steely silver eyes, and he just looked so-so handsome. The portrait looks old, but then it bore a name, a name that you had spoken to me about. So I was curious."

I watched her shift uncomfortably in her seat. "What name?"

"Luciano De Luca." And just like that, I could feel the shift in the air. Her mood had changed; her once calm expression had become rigid.

"I mean, it has to be a coincidence, right? It can't possibly be the same man you told me about. We're talking about decades, if not centuries. There's no way he's still alive," I chuckled, watching as she smiled softly.

"Of course not, child. Don't be ridiculous. It is not a coincidence, well, not in the real sense. You see, the portrait you saw is the ancestor of the Master Lucaino De Luca, whom he's named after." She explained.

I let out a sigh of relief. How stupid could I be, thinking they were the same person? Of course the Master was named after his ancestor; why didn't I think of that? I felt so stupid.

"Could you please refill my cup? My tea has gone cold." Giving her a nod, I grabbed her cup and made my way into the kitchen to do as she asked; however, upon returning, I couldn't help but frown in confusion. She was no longer there.

*****

My whole being felt restless as I tossed and turned in bed. Shouts, screams, groans. I heard it all and felt it all. But then I saw him, the silver-eyed man. He stood tall in what looked like a battlefield, covered in blood with bodies surrounding him. At first, I didn't know what I was looking at, what this dream was. But then I saw him. I watched as he tore through his attackers in a swift motion, so agile and strong. Like a true warrior, but then our eyes collided, and like a wave of shock, I jolted from sleep, shaking. I was sweating all over despite it being a cold night. It felt too real; it felt like he could see me and I him. But then, the scene felt so different, in a way I couldn't describe it. It was as if when our eyes connected, I could feel everything. His rage, his pain...his emotions. I didn't know what to make of it. The dream didn't feel like a dream; it felt real. So real, and it felt like I knew him, which is crazy. There was only one explanation as to why I had dreamt of him: I was sex-starved. I needed a release, but God, I couldn't leave the manor even if I wanted to. And besides, it was late, so instead I settled for a cold shower, hoping to rid myself of these weird thoughts. One thing was for sure: I was never snooping around ever again.

******

Luciano had seen her, or at least he imagined he had. He knew he had made a connection with something or someone. After so many years being trapped alone, he had sensed a presence. Managed to reach into something. One thing he knew for sure was that this wasn't a familiar presence, so how was he able to make a connection? But how? How was this possible? Whoever this was, she was special. He could tell that it was a female, and being able to make the littlest connection, to show this presence a glimpse of his thoughts, had given him a renewed hope. All hope wasn't lost, and whoever this person was, she was going to be a key to his awakening.