Page 25 of Princess's Revenge

In a perfect world it wouldn’t even be called illegal. In fact, the only reason why itisillegal, is because the government chooses to call it that.

The government is just a really big gang with more rules to follow.

I mean, sure, we need to be organized. Roads need to be built, airports need to function, but when you really get down to the brass tacks, the government is window dressing.

Corporations and independent businesses make everything happen.

The governmenttriesto regulate things, but the way Anthony explains it, you could reduce their workforce by three quarters and you’d still achieve the same result.

People who work for the government are the laziest of all!

I stop thinking and enjoy my shower.

When I’m done, I dress much the same as I did yesterday and decide to do some exploring and fill my stomach.

Definitely food first! I haven’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast. I officially have the run of the place, so there’s no point hiding in my room forever. There must be tons to do around here!

I go out of my room and follow the path that Francis showed me yesterday—down the hall, down the smaller staircase on the side for the servants and all the way to the ground floor.

A few twists and turns leads me to the kitchen.

I find Carlo there and he greets me with a smile, “Miss Andrea! Good morning. Would you like some breakfast sent up?”

“Morning, Carlo. I was actually hoping to get the lay of the land today, so I’ll eat down here with you. Let me give you a hand.”

I move towards the stove and the elderly Italian chef gives me a confused look.

I add, “If you don’t mind of course, I wouldn’t want to be a bother.”

“No bother at all,” he smiles and gives me a hearty laugh, “these men, it’s always Carlo this, Carlo that! Nobody ever comes to help Carlo!”

I laugh.

“I think I like you, Miss Andrea!”

“You know, I used to be a waitress, so I know my way around a kitchen. Why don’t you have a seat, I’ll take the helm and you can tell me all about how you came to work here.”

I set about familiarizing myself with the kitchen while Carlo regales me with a tale beginning in Italy.

By the time I am done making myself an omelet with chorizo, peppers, onions, cheese and mushrooms, the story ends in this very kitchen.

It included a marriage, impressing my father on a vacation he took to the old country and coming here on a standing invitation that my father had given him—only to find my father had long since passed.

With Carlo’s wife having passed as well, his children in different parts of the world and nothing to keep him occupied, he decided to stay and cook for a man who valued his talents.

That man ended up being Vincenzo Bertinelli, because Vincenzo pledged to keep every promise that my father ever made—except the most important ones apparently.

After breakfast I wandered through the house—if you can call it that.It was more like a fortress.

There was a library, a billiards room, several fancy living rooms and yet more rooms—the purposes of which I can’t even guess at.

Every so often I came across a guard holding an assault rifle glaring at me till I smiled, at which point I’d get a nod in response.

Tough crowd.

I don’t see Anthony, Christopher, Francis or Vincenzo anywhere. I walk in the garden for a bit and when I was warned for the third time that a certain area was off-limits, I go upstairs to setup my laptop, tablet and phone.

Vincenzo said I’d have the run of the place.I guess he didn’t meanoutside.

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