The dining room looked like something pulled out of a royal magazine.

The long polished oak table gleamed under the golden chandelier, and silverware sparkled like it had never known dust. Every plate was placed perfectly, every napkin folded neatly so that using them felt like a sin, and the scent that filled the air made my stomach growl before I could even act ladylike.

Lunch had been announced, and we were all seated, me beside Santino’s mother, with Santino across from me and his ...