Page 12 of The Hidden Heir

"Mama, look!" Michael draws my focus back into the present. "Rosies!"

He's transfixed by a rose bush—one of many adorning the front garden. They're beautiful flowers, with rich, yellow petals, surrounded by lush green leaves. It's a thornless variety, and my son loves the texture of the petals against his fingers.

"They're wonderful, baby. I completely agree," I say with a soft smile.

The staff is keeping me out of the loop on everything, though. I don't expect to hear any news about the Mancuso or the Petrucci crime families from the TV news, and I haven't had much luck through any internet searches either. There's no email or social media access—Luca had all of those features blocked while I "settle in," according to Eddie.

I don't know what's happening beyond the mansion's tall fence. And it bugs the hell out of me.

"Miss Peroni." A young woman walks toward me from the main driveway.

My thoughts have been consuming me, and I didn't notice her when she parked her car outside the front steps.

"Yes?" I ask, but I don't get up, keeping an eye on Michael, who's busy admiring the yellow roses with wide, warm eyes.

"I'm Raquel, Mr. Petrucci's PA," the young woman says.

"Okay," I reply.

Upon reaching me, she exhales sharply and joins me on the bench, looking like she was close to caving in. "I hate this part," she mutters, then measures me from head to toe. "Mr. Petrucci sent me."

"What for?"

Perhaps I should be nicer, but something about Raquel doesn't sit well with me. A muted aggression comes off her in waves. She looks at me as if I'm not supposed to be here. I feel the same way, albeit I'm sure for different reasons.

"You need to go over this and pick out a model," Raquel says.

She takes a bridal dress catalogue out of her purse and drops it in my lap. I stare at it for what must seem like an eternity because Raquel feels the need to clear her throat in order to capture my attention again.

"Say what?" I manage.

"You'll need to pick out a model. I'd like to place the order by Wednesday, so it can be delivered by Thursday, which will give us Friday and Saturday to have the tailor adjust it where needed."

A wedding dress. For the wedding I agreed to at gunpoint, more or less. Somehow the catalogue makes it real in a way his ultimatum didn't.

Raquel chuckles softly at whatever she sees on my face. "I get it. It came as a surprise to me, too, given that I was supposed to accompany Miss Mancuso to the bridal shop next week for her wedding dress fitting, but I guess that whole thing just got canceled. She won't be happy about it, I'll bet."

I sit up straight and lean back a little just so I can get a better look at Raquel, who speaks as if I know precisely what this whole thing is supposed to be about.

"Forgive me, Raquel, I haven't gotten all the updates from your boss just yet. You mentioned Miss Mancuso. Do you mean Caroline?"

She gives me a curious glance. "Yes."

"What does my stepsister have to do with whatever the hell this is?"

"Oh, shoot." Raquel finally realizes, and her cheeks go almost as red as her lips. "Oh, I made a mess, a huge mess."

I catch a glimpse of Luca's black Lexus pulling into the driveway.

"What is Caroline Mancuso's involvement?" I ask her.

"I thought you already knew."

"Clearly, I do not," I snap.

"Mr. Petrucci and Caroline Mancuso were negotiating a marriage agreement. It was supposed to establish peace between the families after decades of bloodshed and violence. Miss Mancuso proposed a peace accord through marriage. But then you came along and⁠—"

"Ruined everything," I grumble. Luca never mentioned any of this. I wonder why. And why does the thought of him marrying my stepsister make my blood simmer?