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But more impressive than the food and champagne is the stunning bouquet of red roses lying on the seat next to me.
“Are these for me?” I ask the driver as he settles into his seat.
“Yes, Miss. The Mr. Costases ordered them for you,” he smiles before starting up the engine. We pull smoothly onto the street as the cityscape rolls by.
Hesitantly, I pick up the roses and inhale their sweet perfume. I smile as I set them just as gently back on the seat.
“Please, make yourself comfortable, Miss Sutton. We’ve be driving for an hour and a half before we reach the Costas manor. Please don’t hesitate to let me know if I can be of service in any way. Just press the button on the console, and I’ll be happy to meet your needs.”
With that, the driver presses another button and a privacy screen rises. Suddenly, I find myself in my own luxurious bubble with delicious snacks and champagne to occupy my mind on the drive.
As we make our way through the city, I munch on some kettle chips and reflect on my life. How will it change, now that I’ve attracted the interest of two powerful men? I have no idea, and my stomach clenches even as my insides tingle.
I pause to observe the scenery unfolding outside the car windows. It quickly becomes apparent that we’re leaving Manhattan, passing through industrial Queens, and heading into the lush landscape of Long Island.
I settle back in my chair. I’ve never been to this part of New York before. Known for its impressive mansions and affluent residents, I was certain that someone like me, with my humble roots, would be out of place here. We drive by stately townhouses with shutters and small front stoops. Each house boasts a well-kept lawn and lush, early summer flowers.
I feel a twinge of jealousy that this is how some people live. I sigh as I think about my moldy apartment with its second-hand furniture and ratty couch pillows. It seems almost gross now by comparison.
Within minutes, the scenery changes again. Only this time, I am truly in awe of this strange little island.
Whereas moments ago I’d seen pretty homes crammed close together, I now find myself staring at jaw-dropping mansions. No, more than mansions.
Castles.
The massive, extravagant homes all seem to sit on acres of land, each one bigger than the next. A few homes are hidden behind dense thickets of trees, while others refuse to shield their opulence from the eager eyes of tourists and spectators. And yet we still keep driving, further into this enchanted and extraordinary island. Soon, there are no other houses around, and I find myself craning my neck to spot a neighbor. Trees fill the windows, and I wonder if we’re going to end up at a castle fit for a king at the end of the enchanted forest.
Finally, I see a sign that says Costas Way. Hmm, Tom and Gabriel even have a street named after their family. I press my nose eagerly against the window, curious to see what their manor looks like. We trundle along in the Rolls, down a long drive with more trees on both sides. We really are in the forest. Then, a forbidding iron fence appears, with more trees behind it. The driver enters a code at the gate and we’re buzzed through the entryway.
The drive continues, and I wonder just how far into the forest the Costases live. Suddenly, the car takes a left, and a clearing appears. We continue driving, and soon the road becomes a long, impeccably groomed driveway.
This cannot be real, I think as I shake my head in disbelief. How much privacy do they need?
After what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, the Costas residence finally comes into view. I can’t help but stare at the magnificent home, again pressing my nose against the cool glass of the car window because unfolding before me is the most gargantuan yet beautiful manor I have ever seen. The dozens of lovely mansions we just passed pale in comparison to this.
Solid, stately brick is the main foundation, accented by white, ionic columns. Ivy climbs the mansion’s solid walls, while dozens of species of flowers spew from the ground all around the front entry. Well-groomed trees offer speckled shade throughout the front yard, while I catch a glimpse of a several extra buildings scattered beyond the main house.
The chauffeur pulls around the half-circle driveway until the Rolls is parked in the exact middle and aligned perfectly with the front door.
He lowers the privacy screen. “We’ve arrived, Miss Sutton.”
As the driver steps out of the car, I take a deep, steadying breath. This is insane, this is insane, I repeat to myself, suddenly feeling the full weight of my decision to follow through with this wild endeavor. The driver opens my door, and I have no choice to accept his proffered hand and step out of the car. I feel a bit like Cinderella arriving at the palace, to be honest.
