The plane touched down in Florence at exactly 11:06 a.m. The sky was cloudless and soft blue. It looked too beautiful but Mia felt a chill sensation crawling on her skin.
She climbed down the stairs of the plane and inhaled. The air was different in a rich, earthy and old way.
Marco handed her sunglasses. "You'll want to keep your face low for now. There are… eyes everywhere."
Mia put them on and followed him toward a matte black Bentley parked not far from the plane.
"Where are we going?"
He opened the door for her. "Home."
She didn't think she had a home anymore. The word had lost its weight.
The was an hour drive to the estate. The passed by olive trees and golden fields as Marco explained security protocols she was meant to follow. She can't answer unknown calls, or go on social media or wander outside the compound without a bodyguard or ask questions that has no answers.
"Sounds like prison," she muttered.
He chuckled. "Then you'll fit in just fine."
Eventually, they pulled up to a massive iron gate, guarded by two men with rifles.
Mia swallowed hard.
Welcome To The House of De Luca.
---
The place was literally a freaking palace carved into the Tuscan hills looking old, regal, and terrifyingly beautiful. Vines crawled on stone walls, and black clad staff stood at attention as Marco led Mia inside.
Silence followed her footsteps.
The first face she saw was a handsome man with a sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and a cold black eyes that look like they could read secrets. His dark, wavy hair fell on his forehead. He had broad shoulder and was lean, with a confident, walking in like he owns every living and non living soul.
"Leonardo," Marco said.
Her older brother. The resemblance was strong as hell.
He didn't move. Just stared at her like she was a puzzle with no answer.
"So," he said finally. "The prodigal daughter returns."
Mia didn't react. "I was never told I left."
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"You look like her," he said.
She knew he was talking about her mother, Bianca.
Leonardo stepped forward, scanning her like she was a threat. But he doesn't need to know that yet.
"You don't speak our language?"
"I speak truth. Does that answer your question?"
A pause.
To her surprise, he smirked. "Maybe. I hope your not spoilt brat."
Before she could respond, a second figure entered.
He looked younger, less harsh appearance with golden brown curls and softer eyes. Still dangerous but better at hiding it. Though he did look a little bit like a playboy. But the cool and gentle kind.
"Luciano," Marco introduced. "Your younger brother."
He extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, sorella."
(Sister)
Mia hesitated, then shook it.
His grip was warm and oddly reassuring.
"Don't let Leo scare you," he said quietly. "He hates everyone."
Leonardo snorted. "Especially liabilities."
"Enough," a new voice cut through the air deep, slow, and coated in command.
Mia turned to face him.
A tall and dangerously handsome man with ink-black hair and olive skin. He wore black-on-black tailored suit. His face was too cold to be pretty and too perfect to forget.
Dante Moretti.
Her father's right-hand man and her brother's best friend.
She didn't know how she knew it was him. She just knew. And he looked a little bit familiar.
He looked at her with unreadable eyes.
Then said, "Follow me."
---
He led her down a quiet hall, lined with portraits of men who had ruled, killed, and died with the De Luca name attached to their legacy.
At the end of the hallway was a large double door.
He opened it for her, then shut it after she stepped inside.
It was her father's office.
Books were stacked neatly on the wall shelf. A massive desk stood before a window overlooking the hills.
But Santino wasn't there.
Just her and Dante.
She turned to him. "You're not going to say anything?"
He slowly stepped closer like a wolf about to attack its prey.
"You shouldn't be here yet," he said.
"What do you mean?."
"Do you know why you're here?" He asked ignoring her question.
She looked him straight in the eye. "To know about who I am."
He smirked.
"You're dangerous."
"Why?"
"Because you don't know who you are yet."
A tense and heavy silence stretched between them.
Then the door creaked open.
Dante's eyes shifted, hardening instantly.
And then he was gone like he'd never been there.
Mia stood still as the man who entered filled the room with his presence.
Santino De Luca.
Her father.
A little older than she expected. Grey hair taking all the space on his head. Eyes like hers, only colder. He was Dressed in black and had a blank expression.
"Celeste."
She blinked. "It's Mia."
He stepped forward. "To them, maybe. But to us, you're Celeste De Luca. And this…" He gestured around the room. "This is your inheritance."
Mia's stomach twisted.
"I didn't come here to inherit anything," she said.
"You came for answers."
He walked past her, poured a glass of vodka, and handed it to her.
"Start drinking, figlia mia. You'll need it."
(My daughter)
She hesitated, then took the glass.
Downed it.
It burned her throat and tasted bitter.
Like truth.
And then she understood why he gave it to her.
The truth was going to be bitter and there was no going back.
---