The car glided through the wrought-iron gates, its tires crunching softly on the gravel drive before coming to a smooth, silent halt before the manor.
Evening had settled in full, the lanterns along the path casting soft, golden halos against the ancient stone façade.
Matteo exited first, offering his hand without a word. Felix took it, allowing himself to be guided from the car's plush interior into the husk of the house.
But the moment the heavy oak doors swung inward, both men paused.
The house felt different. Lived-in. The faint echo of footsteps and the murmur of hushed voices drifted from deeper within.
The grand salon glowed with a warm, inviting light, the long dining table set with impeccable precision—crisp white linen, polished silver, and bone china gleaming beneath the crystal chandelier.
The rich, savory scent of roasted meat, herbs, and freshly baked bread hung in the air.
Felix's eyes widened slightly, as if he'd stumbled into a prepared celebration.
