Chapter 16 – Penelope
“ W ell, I’ll be,” I breathed, staring up at the grand house. It was double the size of my uncle’s home.
A man with a scrunched face stood at the front door. The poor thing looked as though he needed a good fiber supplement. Possibly an enema.
“This is Shepherd, the butler. If you need anything, he’ll know how to supply you with it,” Mancini intoned as we climbed. “There are a handful of maids and understaff, but we currently do not have a housekeeper. Shepherd manages everything beautifully, however.”
“We’re not in a rush to find one, sir.” The man said with a bow. “We prize discretion above all other forms of character.”
I felt like I was walking into Downton Abbey. The double entrance spilled into a grand opening. Stairs swept up the left side, cutting to a second-level walkway that disappeared into the bowels of the mansion.
While there were blisters forming on my toes, I was glad for once that I wasn’t in blue jeans and boots. I resisted the urge to rub my opposite arms. A girl like me did not belong in a place like this. The portraits on the wall seemed to agree.
“Mr. Baldwin is waiting for you in your office, and Miss Serena is in the east sitting room,” Shepherd informed his boss.
Mancini stopped short. “When did she arrive?”
“An hour ago, sir. Shall I bring cocktails?”
Mancini shook his head. “I think we’ll head straight in for dinner tonight, Shepherd.”
I narrowed my eyes. Maybe I wanted a drink before I faced whoever made the mafia don look like that.
“Tell Baldwin that I’ll be with him in a moment.” Stepping close to me, the beast slid his arm behind my back, forcing me to move.
Lifting my skirt, I scampered out of his reach. “I don’t need herding.”
He let out a harsh laugh, and his touch hardened. “Please, Penelope, I’m begging you, no games right now.”
“Who’s Serena?” I said sweetly. “Your mistress?”
A shudder rolled through his frame before his iron mask fell back into place. “Hardly. And besides—” his fingers curled possessively around my waist “—now that I’m married, there’s no need for girlfriends.”
My stomach did a small flip. I wished he wasn’t touching me. The contact muddled my senses. The harder I tried to pull away, the tighter he held me.
I gave up with a huff and let him guide me into a creamy, fresh room. A woman sat before a piano, her fingers lifting the moment we stepped through the door.
“Sandro!” She rose and moved gracefully towards us. The chic dress floated around her like a cloud. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come with gifts. Your marriage was so sudden! I came straight back home once I heard.”
Mancini stilled. “It’s good to see you, Serena. But you didn’t have to leave Tuscany.”
She stopped in front of us, turned her gaze to me, and swept a quick look over my body. It was fast, barely a blink! And yet, it had the resulting effect that I was lacking in her estimation.
I pulled myself straight. My initial response to wanting the regular clothes vanished, and I wished I was in jeans and boots. Spurs too! I wouldn’t let a wispy, willowy model like her make me feel like anything less standing here.
“Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?” she purred.
“I’m Penelope—his wife.” I stuck out my hand.
One perfectly manicured brow flicked. “Spicy. Wherever did you find her, Sandro?”
Alessandro shifted behind me. “She’s the niece of Don Caravello.”
Serena let out a high-pitched laugh of disbelief. “What happened to the pretty little poppy seed?”
“My cousin was unavailable. I stepped in. And you, Serena, are…?” I jerked my hand in front of her.
Her slender fingers slid into mine. They were stronger than they seemed. For such slim digits, they had a good, solid grip. But my calloused, rough paw wrapped around them like a vise.
Those blood red lips parted in a small gasp as my grip tightened. “I’m Serena Mancini . The sister.”
I released my hold. A sister…that deflated the horror story forming in my mind.
“Play nice,” Mancini growled in Italian. “Or you won’t like the consequences, Serena.”
To me, he added, “I’ll see you for dinner in ten minutes. Make yourself at home.”
His hand brushed against my lower back, and then he was gone.
Serena walked to the wall and pressed a button before returning to the piano and closing the lid over the keys. “So, Penelope, how did you ensnare the don?”
The challenging look she threw me sent my defenses rising high. Maybe correcting her wasn’t the path I wanted to play.
I shrugged. “I have more to offer than my cousin.”
Her short laugh grated on my nerves. “Doubtful,” she muttered.
Before I could call her out on the insult, a maid came through the door.
“Miss Notaro, please bring a bottle of champagne. The ’89 Armand de Brignac would be fine,” Serena instructed the woman. To me, she smiled. “After all, we have some celebrating to do.”
I wasn’t about to tell her that cocktail hour had been canceled. Let her brother be upset about ordering what I could only assume was a fancy bottle. Their relationship was…strange. She might not be a rival in the traditional sense, but if I assumed she wasn’t going to protect the don, I was sorely mistaken. Their lack of affection, however, was confusing.
“You were in Tuscany.” I moved around the room, not wanting to sit in front of her despite my aching feet. “Do you not live here?”
Her hand waved delicately in the air. “I come and go.”
She sank into the armchair, filling it and commanding the space around her like a damn queen. If this was an old English abbey, was she the dowager countess? I snorted, hiding the reaction by drumming my fingers against the top of the piano.
The maid came with the bubbly, popped the cork, and poured. She took one to the sister, but I went to collect my own. It might be nice not to have to scrub my own toilet—or the other hundred in this brick-and-mortar behemoth—but I didn’t need anyone serving me.
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” I gave the maid a huge, genuine smile.
Her lips flickered, and then she left.
Serena took a long sip of her drink. “Well, you aren’t much to look at, but at least you won’t be easy to find in a crowd.”
What a bitch. I sucked in a sharp breath and bit my tongue. And you’re proof that God makes all kinds.
Unlike the easy flight attendant, it wouldn’t be a good idea to take her to the floor and mop it with her thick, long hair.
“Why, thank you!” I smacked a hand over my chest. “That is probably a good thing considering we’re living, breathing criminals.”
Something flashed in her eyes. “So you’re aware of our world? Of Alessandro’s position in it?”
I only smiled and took a sip of my drink.
“I see.” Serena toyed with her glass, dangling it from the tips of her fingers. “Know this, my brother doesn’t change his mind easily. So if you’re trying to trap him, he’s one step ahead of you.”
I’m the one who’s trapped. Me! I clenched my jaw tight, refusing to let those words find a way past my lips. At that, moment a bell rang.
“Ah, that’s dinner.” Serena pushed to her feet.