ARYA’S POV
I stared at the disaster zone that had once been a pristine Italian kitchen and groaned in frustration.
Chocolate was everywhere. Somehow, and I honestly wasn't sure how, I’d managed to get it on the countertops, the stovetop, the cabinet doors, and even a few spots on the ceiling.
The marshmallows I’d been attempting to make had turned into a gooey mess that refused to cooperate, clinging to the spoon like cement.
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, digging through drawers in search of something that might help salvage my midnight snack attempt. "How hard can it be to make chocolate marshmallows? People do this all the time. Children do this."
I’d woken up hungry an hour ago, my stomach growling loud enough to echo through the quiet villa.
After exploring the kitchen and
