I found Mariano outside at his little breakfast nook by the pool.
“Hungry?” he asked, not looking up from his phone.
“Yeah, I am.” I took a seat and helped myself to a scone. He pointed to the espresso machine while he typed away on the screen. Carefully, I poured myself a cup.
“Are you feeling better from last night?”
“Yes, I think the wine went right to my head.”
“It’ll do that.” He finally set his phone on the table, but when he went to speak, it rang again, and he held up a finger, stepping away from the table.
Turning away from him, I sipped my espresso as I admired the grounds. My eyes went up to the grand house on the hill where the party was held. It was all very private. There were a few homes around, scattered in a circle pattern. I wondered who owned them all and why they
