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.
Today, I’m wearing a deep-red summer dress with ballerina shoes.
“Where is the brunch today?” My stomach growls, and I rub my belly again as the baby flutters. Corrado will be thrilled the baby is moving so much. He’s obsessive about listening to its heartbeat every morning at the crack of dawn. Since Corrado is up before sunrise most days, I vaguely recall the cold feel of the stethoscope as he places it against my belly.
“The Belvedere,” Ingrid answers.
“Do you know if my mom landed yet?” My mom is living her best New York life in an apartment that Corrado bought her. She’s holding a job, has a steady relationship, and she’s been sober ever since she left rehab. It has everything to do with the fact my brother is roaming the world a free man now.
She’s able to live her own life now, even if Gordon is at large with nobody knowing his whereabouts. More than a few times, I’ve asked Corrado and Severio about Gordon, but they both say it’s best if I don’t know where he is. Once, when I was particularly upset, Corrado let me talk to Gordon on the phone.
Hearing his voice made me so happy. I hope one day, I get to see him. Until then, I’m content with knowing he’s well.
Since our bedroom is located in the cupula of what used to be a thirteenth-century cathedral, it takes me a while to descend the many wide steps while also taking care where I walk and holding the iron railing.
The four men in my detail follow me while the students running up and down stairs make me wish I had the knees of a nineteen-year-old girl again.
When I reach the bottom floor, the bell rings and the students clear out, making the noise die down as I exit the cathedral and enter the gardens.
The smell of blossoming flowers and the perfectly cut greenery around me make me smile. I walk down the path, then take off my shoes and carry them as I cross the soft grass toward the Belvedere, situated near the water, under a giant oak tree. I already see Severio sitting at one end of the table with Paulina on his left.
Over on the right, Corrado is tossing a tennis ball at the male Doberman he rescued from the junkyard the day we went to retrieve my car. The dog, who bit him at first, now dislikes everyone except Corrado and always sits by his side.
Corrado loves the animal, which has become his loyal companion. He even refuses to travel without Duke. Since we travel on family planes and stay either on our own estates or at places owned by people Corrado bends to his will, the dog lodging with us rarely presents a problem.
Corrado waves when he sees me arriving.
I wave back and continue toward the table.
A man walks out from behind the oak tree.
Tall, wide in the shoulders, tattooed arms.
Oh God. I stop and cover my mouth with a shaking hand at the same time that Gordon takes off his baseball cap. Mischief dances in his dark brown eyes.
“Surprise,” he says in his deep voice.
Releasing a scream, I rush at him, and throw myself at my brother, whose body is like that of a big bear when he hugs me and buries his face in my neck.
“I missed you. How I missed you,” he says.
“I missed you too.”
We stay that way for a while, and when I collect myself a little, he puts me down.
I crane my neck to see up to his six-foot-seven height. With big brown eyes and long eyelashes, a straight nose and full lips, my brother is a beautiful man. I touch the top of his head. “Keeping the prison cut, huh?”
He used to have long hair.
He runs a hand over his cropped hair. “Yeah. No fuss this way.” He steps back. “Let me look at you.” His gaze finds my pregnant belly. “Knocked up by the billionaire, huh?”
Nodding, I blush as his raw words.
“Is he treating you well?”
Always looking out for me. “Yes, he is. What’ve you been up to?”
“Nothing much. Gonna see about this Order business. They want me in and wearing a suit.”
“And?”
Gordon shrugs. “Maybe. You hungry?”
“Starved. You?” We walk toward the table, our conversation picking up where we left off as if we haven’t been apart these many years, as if he hadn’t suffered in prison, and as if I didn’t cry myself to sleep when I thought of him.
Something cold and wet touches my hand. I look down to see that it’s Paulina’s dog, the brown female Doberman Corrado rescued along with his male. She’s super friendly, and I kneel to pet her cute face. But she likes to be petted on her chest, so she sits on her haunches and lifts her head.
I pet her with one hand and notice a little golden box hanging from her collar. Corrado gifts me jewelry daily. It’s insane, and insanely attractive, that he thinks about me all the time.
I pluck off the box and open it.
There’s nothing in it. Psyche! My husband enjoys his evil tricks, you know.
Polished leather shoes appear in my line of view. Corrado nudges my knee. I stand at the same time that he kneels and holds out an engagement ring. A massive diamond reflects the sun’s rays. His family and Gordon approach, and it occurs to me that Corrado is proposing to me. He’s never proposed. He arranged our marriage, and we fell in love despite the odds against it.
It must be the hormones, because now I’m crying again. Slobbering almost. Severio was right. I’m a hot mess.
“Michela,” Corrado says, his expression determined and also genuine. “You are my angel. My damned soul burns only for you. With this ring, I promise I’ll spoil you and love you till the end of time.”
My hand trembles as I extend it and nod vehemently. Corrado’s gestures slay me. When I first met him, when he pinned me against the door with a gun at my temple, I begged him to let me go. Had I known the kind of man Corrado would be toward me, the way he loves me, I’d have begged him to let me stay.
But if I had begged him to stay, he wouldn’t have taken me, because nothing worth having comes easy.
As he slips the ring on my finger and rises, he cups my face. His hazel eyes twinkle with joy. “I will enjoy spending my life with you. What do you say?”
I smile when he wipes my tears away and tastes them. They turn him on, and the evidence of his arousal pokes my pregnant belly. “I say yes, my dear husband.”