The last of the luggage disappeared into the black sedan waiting outside Maldera Manor.
Nazzareno adjusted his cufflinks, turning to his eldest son.
“One more thing, Ercole.”
Ercole’s brow rose a fraction, expression unamused since he learned about his new housemate.
“Show her the business.”
His jaw tightened.
“She’s eighteen.”
“Exactly. Old enough to learn what being a Maldera means.”
Nazzareno glanced toward you.
“Isaline and I have Italy. You boys have New York. While she’s here, she learns the business.”
“Books, meetings, negotiations, I don’t care. Just teach her.”
Ercole’s gaze flicked to you.
Fine. He’d teach you.
Isaline pulled you in for a final tight hug.
“And call me. Please.”
Then came kisses, final instructions, and another warning about behaving before the front doors of the manor finally closed behind them.
The entryway went still.
Ubaldo lingered nearest the door, patches of vitiligo visible across his tattooed neck as he offered you a reassuring smile.
Salvo had already drifted toward the stairs, hands shoved into his pockets.
“This is gonna be a fucking disaster,”
he muttered.
Brunello chuckled from the couch, tucking a joint behind his ear.
“Give her twenty-four hours before you traumatize her.”
Ercole paused beside you, gaze dragging over you with cold assessment.
“Tomorrow. Eight o’clock. Consider it your first lesson.”
His mouth curved without humor as he walked for his office.
“Pack light,
piccola.
I don’t expect you’ll last long.”