’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. No amount of scrubbing could remove the stains, the blood of an unknown man she had stolen from the scene of a car accident, a stupid drunk with no license who had wrapped his Chevy truck around a very large oak tree. Rather would I have gone with Leonardo—and he wished me to do so. She wanted to turn him. Lucia watched in fascination as Isobella nodded at her, only three years older than she, nursing her son with a contented smile upon her face.
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