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“We’re leaving.”
Michela worries her lip, and just when I think she’ll give me a hard time, she says to Severio, who’s staying in my place, “When Gordon comes, treat him as you would want to be treated if I were your sister.”
“Severio is very protective of our sister,” I say.
“As one is with those they care about.” Severio’s eyes tell me he understands I’ve found someone I care about, and he will honor Michela and her family as if they were his. And they are. I intend to bring both Michela and her brother into the Order, along with their friend Jesse, who’s proven himself as a cardinal and who worked with Drago on the prison break.
With a wave at my brother, my wife and I leave together.
EPILOGUE
ONE YEAR LATER
Michela
Iapproach the dark curtains under which light peeks, and, using two fingers, I part the fabric. The bright sunlight hits my eyes, and I turn away, shielding them with my hand. Two more layers of blinds, each made of quality fabric, block my view, but once my eyes adjust to the partial light, I part them too.
Small villages nestle at the joining of rolling green mountains and the coast touching beautiful clear blue waters. That’s the view from one side of the island off the coast of Switzerland in the Alps, where the Serpentine Order hosts the boarding school Corrado and his siblings went to.
It’s a sprawling estate housing the students, the Mancini family, and all the staff working here. Since it used to be a cathedral with a castle, from the outside, it looks like royals live here. Which is not too far from the truth. The members of the Head of the Serpentine Order are royalty without the weight of a crown.
My view used to be a run-down building in a city neighborhood that tourists avoided. Here, there’s not a single skyscraper in sight, and while I miss the Manhattan apartment and hope we can visit someday, waking up to this view lifts my soul.
The baby in my belly moves, and the flutters make me smile. I rub my belly, thinking about Corrado’s sister, Paulina, and the betting pool for guessing the sex of the baby. The pot has already crossed a hundred thousand dollars. The losers will host a dinner for the winners, and the money will be sent to a local animal shelter.
Corrado has a thing for aggressive breeds of dog. Namely, finding them a home. The family resources do a lot of good in the world, and I’m slowly acclimating to the lifestyle of the rich and not famous.
This lifestyle includes travel. So much travel that I could never afford. Corrado and I returned to the estate late last night, having spent the last week off the coast of Panama. Corrado conducted business with some characters who were the kind that mothers warn their daughters about, while I tanned on our sprawling yacht, regretting not taking him up on the billionaire lifestyle sooner.
To be fair, back then, he didn’t make for dazzling husband material. Not how he is now. Now he’s mine. All mine. And he’s the best husband there ever was. Well, in my biased opinion.
A soft knock sounds on the door.
Oh, what time is it? I was supposed to meet Paulina for brunch today, and it would be terrible if I was late since I’m staying at her home. You see, on paper, she owns this island. The Mancinis each own at least one island, with Severio currently playing with the idea of buying a small country.
For reference, I used to own a thousand-dollar car that ate up way too much gas and ended up in a junkyard. Now, I own a massive teardrop diamond necklace that Corrado slipped around my throat last night. I also own two pairs of glittery earrings and many (too many, yet not enough) shoes I bought with his limitless obsidian credit card.
Secretly, I admit I enjoy spending his money.
Yet, I never ask how much the stuff he buys me costs because it’s nausea-inducing. He says having wealth is like having anything else you didn’t have before. Takes some getting used to.
The person on the other end knocks again.
I fix my hair and straighten my pajamas. “Come in.”
The head of housekeeping walks in, a petite blonde with almost platinum-white hair pulled into a neat bun at the top of her head. Dressed in all black with slacks, a jacket, and sensible heels, Ingrid appears as if she owns a Manhattan law firm. She walks straight to the window and starts arranging the curtains, making them fall over the glass just so.
Two more women walk in. The taller of the two rolls in a portable hanger with clothes, then rises on her toes, extending her hand over the antique wooden dresser. She taps the top and finds the key to the dresser. I’ll never know why they leave it on top and not in the lock, but I go with their flow.
I clear my throat. “Good morning.”
They bid me a good morning in unison. I always find it odd that I’m the one who initiates conversations with the staff. They pretend I’m not around and go about their business. Very efficiently too. Probably why they’ve been working here for this long. The Order is brutal and eliminates anyone or anything that doesn’t contribute to their greater good. And they reward discipline and efficiency.
I always thought I was both, but Severio corrected me when he found my shoes in the garden the other day. He delivered them to me, telling me that if I weren’t Corrado’s wife, I’d probably make Drago’s list. Of course, he was joking, but I got the idea that he thinks I’m a forgetful hot mess. Pregnancy notwithstanding.
He’s not wrong, but compared to Severio, most people are a hot mess. Except Corrado. Severio thinks the world of him.
The housekeepers prepare my wardrobe according to Corrado’s specifications. He likes to dress me, and I don’t mind. In fact, it’s liberating not to have to decide what to wear every day during family events. And that’s pretty much what I do. I attend lunches and parties, and, of course, organize and decorate the many gardens of the many Mancini family estates.
