Ruthless Prince (Dark Syndicate 1)

My eyes bulge. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t realize the time.” There’s no way I would have thought it was so late. I’m not the kind of person to have a lie-in. When I lived at home, I’d be up early to paint.

“You will eat this, and we’ll be back in ten minutes,” she answers.

“Massimo arranged something nice for you today,” Candace beams.

I can’t imagine what that might be. “What is it?”

“Something you’ll like, dear,” Pricilla answers. The corners of her eyes crinkle as she smiles.

I bite the inside of my lip and try to look happy. It’s probably more wedding stuff. I know they both liked helping me pick out dresses the other day, and when the seamstress came back, we did everything else together as well. Other people to do with the wedding have come by, and as far as I know, there isn’t much left to worry about because it’s all being taken care of.

“Eat, and we’ll be back to show you.” Candace looks pleased. That heightens my curiosity.

“Okay,” I agree.

I’m curious to know what this could be. What has Massimo arranged? In my heart I pray it’s not something that will remind me why I’m here and spoil last night.

They leave. I eat all the food in a similar fashion to how I devoured the food two weeks back after I hadn’t eaten for a couple of days.

Ten minutes later, Candace returns. The suspicion in her eyes makes me think she came back alone to question me.

“You ready?” she asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’re going to a different part of the house.”

“Are we? What part?”

“It’s on the left wing,” she answers. “You look better than when I left you last night,” she notes.

“Do I?” I ask, feigning innocence. I know full well what she means. Earlier, when I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, my skin was glowing like a lightbulb.

“Yeah, in a good way. Are you okay?”

When I nod, she gives my arm a gentle squeeze. That’s all she does. She doesn’t ask me anything more.

We walk across the atrium and then head down the wide marble steps leading down to the hall where I tried on my wedding dress. We get to the hall and continue down the path to another set of stairs. These are stone and lead to a large set of oak wood doors that have always been locked. Whenever I’ve seen them, I’ve thought they led outside. Apparently not. And the doors aren’t locked today. Candace opens the door wide, revealing a hall. What I see inside steals my breath away.

Art.

That’s the best word I can use to describe the scene before me. Art.

Art in abundance. There are oil paintings all along the walls. We walk in, immersing ourselves in the glorious artwork that makes my nerves spike and tingle.

The paintings are a mixture of landscapes and people. Because I love landscapes so much, I’m drawn to those more. I recognize some of the places. They’re in Italy. Florence, Verona, and Sicily. All so beautiful.

“Oh my God,” I mutter and turn back to face Candace. “These are amazing.”

“Yeah. Massimo’s mother was quite the artist.”

Surprise rushes over me. “His mother painted all of these?”

“Yeah, she was incredible. That over there is me when I was little, playing with the boys,” she says, pointing to one of the larger paintings to our left.

On it are five small children running through the meadow. A little girl, four boys, and a Golden Retriever.

We move closer to it, and she points to the boy nearest the dog. “That’s Massimo. He must have been eight there. Maybe seven.”