Rosa jolted, clutching the plush towel tightly against her chest as she spun around. Her heart, already battered from the trauma at the airport, did a violent flip in her ribs.

The woman who had just walked into the room stopped short, holding a massive, gleaming silver tray. She didn't look like a typical servant; there was a sharp, military-like precision to her posture, and her eyes scanned the room in a single, practiced sweep before settling on Rosa.

"I am so sorry for startling you," she said, her voice smooth and entirely composed. She set the heavy tray down on the mahogany coffee table. "I'm Vivienne, Giovanni's right hand....