Alessia Mancini
Signora Vitale sat at the head of the table, a vision of elegance in a deep emerald suit that accentuated her regal bearing. Her silver-streaked hair was swept up in an intricate chignon, not a strand out of place. As I approached, she lifted a crystal tumbler of amber liquid to her lips, taking a measured sip. The ice clinked softly against the glass, the only sound in the hushed room.
Her dark eyes met mine, and I felt a shiver run through me. They were sharp, assessing, missing nothing. I straightened my spine, desperately trying to channel the poise and confidence Giovanni believed I possessed.
"Ah, the young Signorina Mancini," Signora Vitale's cultured voice broke the silence. "How kind of you to join me. Please, have a seat."
I moved towards the chair she indicat
