Chapter 23

I checked my lipstick one last time inside the closet's mirror and inspected the fading bruises that time had healed. I bent down to the floor. My hand slipped underneath the mirror, and when I felt the piece of metal that hid my holster and knife, I pulled it free.

While low on the floor, I pushed my leg through its opening, and as I rose, so did the leather strap.

With Aldo's warning, I wasn't going anywhere without it. Not even in this room. I'll deal with the consequences if he ever finds out.

I made my way out of the room and down the stairs, enjoying the sound of my heels. The only warning of my presence I was willing to give. Still unfamiliar with every inch of the house, I started with the kitchen.

"Morning," I greeted, and three pairs of eyes shot up.

The noise seized inside the chef's grand kitchen. Clean steel lines with the same marble flooring and brown furniture stretched inside, making it not only equipped with the finest tools for a cook but also refined.

"Good morning, Ms. Alessandra," a tall older woman with kind eyes and caramel and gray streaks of hair said. "I'm Mrs. Carmine. Head of staff." She wiped her hands on her apron with a nod.

"Pleasure." I stared at her bluntly. She was being genuine, but there was an underlying air about her that I couldn't grasp.

"How long have you worked here?"

Her brows raised, and her lips thinned, confused by my question. "Years."

Hmm.Years.

"My apologies for taking so long before meeting you all." I smiled.

"Oh, don't apologize!" A round brown-eyed and bright-smiled girl chuckled. She appeared young, maybe eighteen? Too young and too sweet to work in a house whose door welcomed killers. "I'm Talia, and this grumpy boomer is my dad, Alvize."

Talia's dirty-blonde ponytail whipped quickly to face her father. I followed her playful grin to the man whose mouth was stuffed with a hand full of a half-eaten croissant. Alvize appeared to be in his late fifties, but life had not been kind to him. His eyes were the same color as Talia's, but they were tired and jaded. With short, peppered hair and scattered sun marks across his face, Alvize quickly chewed as he lowered his head to the floor.

"It's all true. However, I am no grump, Ms. Alessandra." He defended himself, and his eyes narrowed to his daughter.

"Nice meeting you, Alvize."

"Likewise."

My grin was filled with amusement. "How many others am I missing to meet?" I asked and faced Mrs. Carmine.

Thalia beat her reply. "Chef Santy, but he only shows up when big meals need to be prepared. He's little." She whispered at the end, and she made sure Mrs. Carmine wasn't watching before she placed her palm down to her shoulder, advising his height.

I chuckled.

"And my dad has someone who helps him with the grounds and small house repairs. Tiago, he's super skinny and tall."

I liked her. Her energy was contagious.

"Well, I would love to come back and chat about some dishes. Maybe I can help in the kitchen one night." That caught Mrs. Carmine by surprise.

"You cook?" Talia's voice raised.

"Yes, when I lived in Italy for a few years alone, I had to learn to cook my meals. I quickly realized I enjoyed doing it."

"If that's what you wish." Mrs. Carmine's timid grin agreed.

"Can't wait," I said, eager to feel the familiarity of cooking, and the touch of normalcy of preparing a meal. "I also wanted to ask for someone's time to show me around the house and the grounds, if possible."

"Of course," Mrs. Carmine rushed, wiping her hands again before looking down at the dough before her. "I just-"

"Oh, there's no need to waste the thirty minutes of kneading you've done. I can do it," Thalia offered with a shrug.

Mrs. Carmine hesitated, but the thought of disrespecting the boss's future wife wasn't something in her nature. Even while the dough had gained the perfect amount of volume and bounce to form and bake. It meant she had to not only toss but also restart her hard work.

I helped her make the decision. "Great, where should we start?"

Talia's face lightened as she rushed away from the counter. Her hands cupped around the pastry, and she nudged it as she gave her father a quick kiss. "Finish eating," Talia's hushed tone warned before she twirled and walked toward me.

"We'll start with the boring places and save the best for last." She laughed.

"Perfect, lead the way." My hand extended for her to walk ahead of me, and with a nod, I said, "It was a pleasure meeting you all."

"You as well," Mrs. Carmine added, and Alvize's head dipped respectfully.

When I followed Talia's black flats, she began telling me which switches worked for certain lights and which plants weren't real. It was a difficult task to keep my composure, as she flipped and flopped between things she found significant to share. Mrs. Carmine's tour would've definitely been a dull experience compared to Talia's description of the rooms and the names she gave to certain decorations.

The more I explored inside the house, I saw similar themed bedrooms. These bedrooms had warm tones, marble, and detailed furniture that matched the entire interior of the home, and his bedroom became my favorite room in the house. It was different, darker. As if he had transformed the rest of the house into this refined, elegant space for others to enjoy. But Massimo didn't seem to be one to do anything to please others. He'd done it to his taste, and his room was a part of him others wouldn't be able to see.

As we walked around the house, men came and went in all directions. Their eyes always found me before quickly looking away with a curt nod. As soldiers, they were at the bottom of the ranks. All they were meant to do was follow orders and enjoy the money of their sins.