Chapter 7
As the plane descended below the clouds, Meredith gazed out eagerly from the narrow window she sat beside. Despite the fact that she technically had a purpose in Rome, she couldn't help feeling excited. It wasn't everyday that she was able to visit the capital of Italy after all. Rome! She could hardly believe it. As a teenager, she'd always felt a strong desire to visit the birthplace of the Renaissance. Her family had never been able to afford it and the dream had faded—until now.
The city sprawled out below her, rolling hills covered in rich, vibrant greenery or adorned with cream colored villas. From this height it was difficult to pick out any of the city's famous architecture; you didn't have to be close up, though, to tell it was quaint and beautiful. Ancient and modern blended into one.
Meredith could hardly wait to explore the Coliseum, the Baths of Caracalla, the Arch of Constantine, all of the squares—then she recalled what she was truly in Rome for.
With a heavy sigh, she sat back in her seat. Playing tourist would have to wait until she'd dealt with the more pressing business at hand. First and foremost was the task of introducing "Madeline" to the more affluent society within the city. Establishing her new alias would involve mainly parties, balls, and other such events.
Later there might be time to sneak in some sight-seeing, but for now Meredith needed to stick to her cover. She'd decided it was safest to introduce Madeline as a self-absorbed and light-headed girl who was interested only in modern frivolities. History, especially ancient history, would be the last topic that would interest the young heiress.
It wasn't going to be an easy ruse to maintain; appearing vivacious and sociable were not traits Meredith displayed on a regular basis. Yet she knew that the Dark Veritas were less likely to suspect someone who appeared inane of malicious intent. While it would pain Meredith to act stupid, it might also be the very thing that saved her life.
Fortunately she even had the perfect ruse for introducing Madeline to Roman society using a public forum. The groundskeeper who maintained her grandfather's villa knew very little about her family beyond her grandfather's name. He wasn't the least bit phased when Meredith had introduced herself over the phone as the granddaughter of John Forsythe, "Madeline Dubois".
The only problem, he'd informed her, was that it would take awhile to prepare the villa for her since it had been vacant for such a long time. Rooms had to be aired out, fresh linens ordered, and so on.
Unwittingly he'd given Meredith the perfect excuse as to why her alter ego would need to stay at a hotel for a couple weeks. Meredith had told the groundskeeper she would be fine with waiting until late August to occupy the villa. Then she'd proceeded to book her flight for the middle of the month instead.
With the vast amount of wealth her grandfather had left her, Meredith could easily afford a hotel for a couple of weeks. Not just any hotel would do, of course. To ensure the members of Rome's wealthy elite knew there was fresh money in town she'd even selected the Grand Hotel Plaza to stay at.
The travel agent Meredith had spoken to when booking her trip—who became very eager to take her on as a client when she'd explained her travel plans—had highly recommended it. Sounding like a pitchman for the hotel, he claimed it couldn't be beat for luxury, service, and social events. "The hub of Roman society" had been mentioned several times in the span of a single conversation.
The Plaza was one of the most prestigious five-star hotels in Rome. From the pictures on their website Meredith could see where they got they're rating. There were marble columns and floors, beautiful terraces bathed in sunlight, and even a ballroom. It definitely was not your average Holiday Inn—and was only going to cost her four-hundred dollars a night.
Meredith had initially balked at such a high price. Just for a place to sleep!
Yet she knew that "Madeline" would settle for nothing less than the best. The Plaza was also the ideal place to meet people who were well-connected and wealthy. Lavish parties were held there on a daily basis or so the receptionist had informed her. Celebrities and even royalty often frequented the hotel.
With any luck—not the kind she wanted on her side all the time of course—some of the famous faces that frequented the Plaza and Rome's high society would belong to the Dark Veritas. Meredith felt a combination of excitement and dread as she realized that she would soon find out.
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It took Meredith less time than she'd anticipated to be invited to her first party. The day after she'd landed, and recovered from jet lag, had been spent shopping. After making careful study of the fashions she noticed other women wearing, she was able to put together a wardrobe worthy of an heiress.
Meredith noticed shopkeepers and customers alike eyeing her with interest when she'd visited several of the little boutiques near the Plaza. Much like her fair-haired best friend, she had no problem spending money on clothes. It was especially thrilling when you didn't have a budget. Hushed whispers had been ignited between two shop girls when "Madeline" had dropped several thousand dollars on lingerie without batting a lash.
"Might as well make it worthwhile if he gets that far, no?" Meredith had commented with a coy wink over her shoulder before she left.
The no-holds barred shopping spree, while costing her a pretty penny, had created just the right amount of mystery and intrigue for her new persona. Quite a few people gave her openly curious looks when Meredith entered the hotel restaurant the following afternoon. It was all part of her strategy to ensure Madeline made a splashy debut. Fortunately she'd studied from the Queen of Robert E. Lee; Elena had a special knack for knowing how to create a scene.
Several people approached her table to introduce themselves. Rather than being difficult, as she'd initially thought, Meredith found it surprisingly easy to slip into the shoes of her alter ego. She simply had to be everything she typically wasn't: bubbly, flirtatious, and full of insipid comments.
The only painful part came from fighting back the sarcastic wit her friends had always known her for. It was especially difficult amongst a crowd of wealthy people too full of their own sense of self-importance. Every time a clever comment occurred to her, Meredith had to swallow it and a piece of her pride.
Bonnie's jaw would have dropped to see the typically calm and aloof Meredith Sulez giggling, teasing, and asking silly questions. That was another part of why she'd decided not to involve her friends in her little European adventure. Extreme danger aside, it was simply easier to behave foolishly in front of no one who knew her.
One of the couples who approached her table was Lord and Lady Bradford. They were from Kent and touring throughout Europe for the Summer and Fall. Meredith was bored after listening to them talk about their endless travels for nearly two hours, but managed to feign interest. Fortunately it even paid off.
"What are you doing tonight, Madeline?" Vivienne Bradford asked.
"I didn't have any official plans," Meredith replied. "I only arrived two days ago."
"Then you'll have to be our guest tonight," Charles Bradford chimed in. "We're hosting a cocktail party in the hotel ballroom. It'll be the perfect opportunity to introduce you to everyone."
Meredith had no idea who "everyone" might be, but she hoped he meant the upper class of Roman society. "Sounds great," she said eagerly. "What time should I be there?"
"The party technically begins at seven, but usually gets fun around nine. That's usually when everyone's had a drink or two. So if you show up around then that should be perfect. We'll make the rounds of introductions so you get to know some people."
It was ten minutes to nine when Meredith arrived for the party. She did her best not to gape openly at the lavishly decorated ballroom, but found herself feeling distinctly like a small-town girl in the big city. It was impossible not to feel overwhelmed by so much glitz and glam.
The ballroom was beautiful, held erect by tall marble columns with a ceiling that contained dozens of stained glass skylights. There was almost an equal amount of chandeliers that ornamented the ceiling; the golden lighting played off the kaleidoscope of colors in the skylights in a captivating fashion. Velvet tapestries of the darkest burgundy matched the silk tablecloths. With the dark colors and candelabras that surrounded the perimeter of the ballroom the ambiance was one of gothic elegance.
An orchestra in black and white was playing classical music in the corner. Several couples, in some of the fanciest clothing Meredith had ever seen, swayed gracefully on the half of the ballroom that had been designated for dancing. She had no doubts that a diamond choker one of the women wore could have bought enough food for a family in Ethiopia to last a year.
Feigning as though she attended parties like this every day, Meredith began to wander along the many tables laden with food. There was barely a square inch of space that wasn't taken up by a dish or tray of some sort. She assumed an expression of bored indifference and helped herself to a shrimp. Thankfully it wasn't long before the hostess tracked her down.
"Madeline, there you are."
Turning around, Meredith saw that Vivienne was wearing a navy blue gown that was low in the front and even lower in the back. It would have been an attractive dress except for a gaudy, enormous faux-rose that perched on one shoulder. Her blonde hair was pulled into a simple chignon. Whatever her hair lacked in flashiness, though, she more than made up for with an incredible amount of jewelry. Sapphires and diamonds gleamed in her ears, at her neck, and even on both wrists.
The older woman gave a brief nod of approval to Meredith's long and strapless emerald green evening dress. Her dark hair was held back in a twist secured with a comb decorated with emeralds. Real emeralds. She'd initially hesitated at the extravagant price, but figured this was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
"I have so many people to introduce you to," Vivenne said, slipping her arm through Meredith's. Her tone was low and conspiratorial, as though they'd been the best of friends forever. "Have you heard about the prince staying here?"
"A prince?" Meredith responded with an enthusiastic gasp. "No, not yet. Should I have heard something?" She wriggled her eyebrows suggestively and they shared a laugh.
God kill me, she thought to herself with an inward cringe.
"I'll make sure to introduce you, don't worry. He's Italian and a credit to his country. I'd leave Charles in a heartbeat if he ever wanted to sweep me off my feet."
The warning bells should have been going off for Meredith right then and there, she would realize later. An Italian prince who was incredibly good-looking—it should have been obvious.
Yet Meredith remained clueless as Vivienne began to introduce her to a whirlwind of people. Names and faces soon became an incomprehensible blur. She tried to pay more attention, though, when her newfound friend became very excited as they approached a man who had his back turned to them.
A man with dark hair.
Barely containing her giddiness, Vivienne began to make the introductions. "Prince Damien, I'd like to introduce you to a friend of mine who's been dying to meet you." She flashed an eager smile at Meredith who forced herself to return the gesture. Truth be told, her face was starting to hurt from smiling so much.
The dark head began to turn around to face them. Meredith felt her blood run cold as the bottom dropped out of her neatly fictionalized world. It couldn't be!
At the first instant of realization, Meredith figured she must be having a delusion of some sort. There was no way the fates could be that cruel. As the man turned around to face them fully, though, her stomach sank and she knew there was no possible error. There was no mistaking those perfectly chiseled features and dark eyes most girls would willingly drown themselves in. Even the skylights couldn't rival the rainbow of colors that flitted playfully across his ebony hair like the feathers of a raven.
The man was uniquely and unmistakably Damon Salvatore.