IZABELLA
After hours of flying, the plane finally touched down in Italy.
I alighted the plane with a breath of relief as the warm Sicilian breeze brushed against my skin. If I had to spend one more second in that plane with its suffocating silence, I might have keeled over.
As expected, there was a car and a fleet of guards waiting for us at the other end of the tarmac. Airport staff helped with our bags while Ignazio and I walked over to the car and slipped inside. With the guards trailing behind us, we were driven to what would be our residence for the duration of our stay here.
I expected the usual five-star hotel, so colour me surprised when the car pulled up at an expensive-looking villa.
At first, I didn’t move, thinking the driver had gotten the wrong place, but when the doors
