Chapter 62

The main terrace had been set with the kind of care only Virellans devote to a meal. Candles flickered gently in the night breeze, casting golden light over antique china and polished silverware that gleamed beneath the stars. From the kitchen drifted a symphony of herbs and slow-simmering sauces.

Greta appeared carrying a tray of antipasti—dark olives, local cheeses, cured prosciutto, and tiny to