I S A B E L L A
Angelo doesn't let go of my hand once as he leads us through the house. The aroma of sweet, sweet breakfast foods fills my nostrils, immediately making my mouth water and encouraging me to keep up with Angelo's walking pace. Soon, we peer through the hallways and make our way to the dining and kitchen. Breakfast is already set up by the time we arrive, and I can now make out the scents, a blend of freshly brewed coffee and warm pastries. My eyes land on Frederic and his assistants as they move around, setting dishes in place, each of them pausing momentarily to greet us before going about their business. I can’t help but appreciate how homey it feels, and, at the same time, how strange this all is.
Angelo leads me to the dining room, where he pulls out a seat for me, and
