Elio led me through a maze of hallways that looked like something out of an art museum. I almost forgot how to breathe. Everything inside the La Rosa mansion looked like it belonged in one of those glossy magazines — marble floors so shiny they reflected the chandeliers, walls lined with gold-framed paintings, and a grand staircase that curled upward like something out of a fairy tale.
My boots squeaked against the floor, and I wished they didn't. Every sound felt too loud in the silence. Elio and Nico walked slightly ahead of me — apparently, they'd been assigned as my guides. Lorenzo and Ms. Harper had gone off toward an office to handle "documentation," whatever that meant. Elio, the louder twin, kept talking — or maybe it was just nervous energy spilling out of him.
He pointed out rooms as we passed — an office, a music room, a gym that looked bigger than the one Matt owned, and a glass hallway that opened into a garden filled with roses. Everywhere I looked, there was something beautiful, expensive, or both. When we finally stopped at the end of the stairs,
"So, uh, welcome to Casa La Rosa — home of way too many rules, way too many bodyguards, and the best lasagna in all of Milan." Nico sighed, quiet but audible.
"You're overselling." "I'm underselling," Elio shot back, grinning at me. "Wait till you try it. You'll understand."
I couldn't help but smile a little at their banter. It was strange, standing there — these two strangers talking to me like I was just a new friend instead of someone who'd dropped into their lives from nowhere.
We started up the staircase, our footsteps echoing. Elio pointed out doors as we went. "Alright, quick orientation: third floor's off-limits unless you're Dad, Alessandro, or Emilio. That's where all the serious business happens." He made air quotes with his fingers.
Nico added, "Other side of that floor has guest rooms. You'll see them if you get lost — they all look the same." When we reached the second floor, I noticed that every door had a small gold plate with initials engraved on it — A.L.R., E.L.R., L.L.R., E.L.R., and N.L.R.
"The rooms are arranged oldest to youngest," Nico explained.
"Alessandro's at the far end, then Emilio, Leo, then us — the twins. Yours is between Leo's and mine." Between Leo — the one who glared at me like I was a ghost — and Nico, who looked like he'd stepped out of a painting but somehow felt... safe.
Great.
Elio opened the door with the A.L.R. engraving my new room with a proud flourish. "And here's yours, principessa." I froze in the doorway.
The room was... breathtaking. Soft cream walls, pale wooden floors, a huge window draped with white curtains, and a bed that looked way too soft to actually sleep in. There was a small desk in the corner with neatly stacked notebooks, a lamp shaped like a rose, and a vase of white flowers — real ones.
I took a hesitant step inside. Everything smelled faintly like vanilla and something floral — familiar yet new. There was even a bookshelf filled with novels, some in English, some in Italian. Someone had thought this through. I traced my fingers along the edge of the desk, the smooth wood cool under my skin. For the first time in a long while, something inside me loosened.
"You like it?" Elio asked, leaning against the doorframe with a grin.
I turned to him and nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.
"She does," Nico said quietly, answering for me when I didn't pick up the whiteboard fast enough. "She's just... processing."
Elio hummed in agreement. "Well, I'd say this beats New York, huh?"
I tilted my head in mock offense and scribbled on the board:
"I'll let you know after I find the kitchen." He read it, blinked — then burst out laughing.
"Oh, she's got jokes! Nico, she's officially my favorite sister."
"You only have one," Nico said flatly, but his lips curved just slightly.
Elio rolled his eyes. "Details."
They started bickering lightly, and I sat on the bed, watching them. Their energy filled the room in a way that made it feel less empty — Elio's bright chatter and Nico's quiet steadiness balancing each other. After a few minutes, Elio checked his watch.
"We should let you rest. It's been a long trip." Nico nodded and gestured toward the window seat.
"If you need anything, our rooms are right next door. You'll hear Elio before you see him." Elio threw a pillow at him, which Nico dodged effortlessly. I laughed — softly, barely a sound — but they both caught it.
Elio's grin widened, while Nico's eyes softened with something warm and protective. When they finally left, closing the door behind them, the silence didn't feel heavy anymore. I walked over to the window, pushing the curtain aside.
The garden below glowed faintly under the evening lights — white roses climbing the fences, winding up the walls like living lace. I sat there, tracing one finger along the glass, and thought of how strange it all was — this house, these people, this family I never knew I had. Maybe I didn't belong here yet.
Maybe I never fully would. But for the first time in years, I wasn't completely alone.
And for now, that was enough.