Chapter Six
ART
The next day, I wake up in the afternoon. The place beside me is empty, and my hand is free from the chains. When I enter the living room, there’s no one there, but I’m sure one of Luca’s men is outside the door.
The natural light coming through the windows invigorates me.
Apricity. That’s what is called the uplifting, calming feeling of the sun warming one’s skin on a cold day.
But it’s more than that; it’s comfort and reassurance to the spirit during bleak, sorrowful times.
That feeling of warmth seeping into me, I’ve never experienced that with people. Tragic, really, but true.
I concentrate on the view from the window.
It’s magnificent. We are so high up, I can see half of Manhattan.
They blindfolded me again on my way here, so I didn’t know I was in a high-rise condo when we arrived last night.
I enjoy the sight for a little while, then I go to the bathroom, and after washing my face and brushing my teeth, I check my phone.
Shit! The battery is low; it’s already a miracle it lasted this long.
Me:
Hey, lovebird, I need a phone charger.
Fly:
Who’s this?
Me:
Your bestie
Fly:
Art? Did you escape?
Me:
No. I think I better stay put for now
Until I’m sure Mario is not out there waiting for me. Rami is checking for me. I’m going to owe him a kidney if it keeps going like this.
Fly: What kind of charger?
I tell him the brand.
But how can I disguise the charger so that the wacko doesn’t see it? Got it! I exchange a few more texts with Fly and then turn off the phone and slide it in its usual place.
When I come out, the living room is still deserted.
My stomach is rumbling, so I move to the kitchen and open the fridge.
I wish I could order food or just go for a bite.
I can’t cook for shit. There’re only the Chinese leftovers from yesterday and a carton of orange juice.
I take everything out and leave it on the counter.
I need a coffee first. There’s no coffee machine, though.
I open the white cupboards, but I don’t see one—there’s all my favorite junk food brands though.
Is Luca Nero getting soft on me? I look down at the yellow bruise around my wrist and huff. The fuck he is.
I’m about to go ask whoever is outside the front door about the coffee machine when it opens on its own, and in comes the wacko with two takeaway cups. Is one boba?
“I hope one of those is for me,” I tell him with a groggy voice as he strides toward me.
He just puts the boba cup in front of me on the kitchen island and then drops a paper bag next to it. I look inside. There’s a slice of apple pie and a chocolate donut. How does the saying go? The easiest way to a man’s ass is through his stomach…or something like that.
“I could hug you right now, sweetums.” I wink at his blank face while taking a long suck from the straw.
Earl Grey milk tea, no ice, a little syrup, pearl boba and aloe—perfection, just how I like it.
I pull the donut out of the bag and give it a huge bite.
The sweet flavor of apple jam explodes on my tongue, making me moan.
I lick it off my lips, and while still chewing, I take another bite.
“Like watching a python eat a mouse,” he declares, glancing at me with the usual cold anger, before moving with one of his cigars near the window.
I bite my tongue as a sassy reply tries to leave my lips.
He brought me food and boba tea, and I want him to do it again, even if the price to pay is to shut my trap.
The earthy, sweet smell of tobacco soon reaches me, but I strangely find myself used to it.
Or maybe I’m so taken by the best apple pie I’ve ever eaten that I don’t care right now.
He waits for me to lick every little crumb off each finger before saying, “Send Mario a text.”
All the heavenly sweets turn to ash in my stomach as knots start to form. Luca doesn’t seem to notice my deep discomfort or just ignores it, handing me my phone.
“Now!” he hisses.
I grab it. Better do what he wants. I need to know where my half-brother is too. “What do you want me to say?”
“I’m not sure about this wedding. Can you help?”
I sniff derisively. “No.”
He growls angrily. But before he can voice that cold fury, I add, “I’d never ask for his help, not in a million years. He’d know it wasn’t me if I sent that.”
His jaw ticks as he keeps staring at me. “Then what would you text him?”
Fucking nothing! The idea of contacting him would be possible only in fiction. But this is the only way to know where that psycho is—Rami hasn’t texted me back yet.
“I’m not sure about the wedding. What should I do?”
“If you are fucking with me, I’ll personally cut that tongue of yours out.”
I huff. “Another threat, shocking.” Ungrateful asshole.
Message sent. He yanks the cell back as soon as I show him. I quickly grab my boba cup and take a shower, leaving Luca to his phone calls. From the bits and pieces I hear, he’s trying very hard to find out who’s behind the shooting. Of course, my family is enemy number one.
Two hours later, I’m in the kitchen again, munching on some nuts. No answer from Mario yet. I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing. I’m trying not to think about it. That’s why I keep listing out loud more lame Mafia nicknames for Luca. His annoyed groans are spurring me on.
“Luca ‘Slasher’ Nero, ‘Steel-made,’ ‘Swordfish,’ ‘Shark.’”
I hear a racket on the other side of the front door just as his phone starts ringing. My heart beats faster as I’m reminded of last night’s events, and my body automatically moves toward him.
“Jesus Christ!” He swears with exasperation on the phone, stopping my advance. “Let him in!”
The door opens, and I see Fly looking frantically around the living room until his eyes find me.
“I’ll give you five minutes with him, no more.” Luca’s absurd words catch my attention.
“I’m not making instant noodles here,” I tsk.
“Five minutes, Fly,” he tells him as well.
But my friend dismisses him with a wave of his hand before his body crushes into me.
Ah, it has been so long since I saw him.
Almost two months. The feel of his arms around me and his familiar fresh-rain smell make me smile on his shoulder.
Warmth. If only I could keep it with me.
“Art, is it really you?” His voice breaks a little. I bet those sweet gray eyes are watery. “Are you okay?”
Fly doesn’t seem to have any intention of letting me go. What’s with the sappy moment? I’m going to add to it if I don’t lighten the mood.
“Of course! There’s only one of me, I’m a limited edition, buddy,” I chuckle.
“More endangered species,” Luca grunts.
“I heard what happened. Why didn’t you tell me?” Fly sounds worried and irked. He grabs me by the shoulders to look at my face. His blond hair’s gotten longer, past his shoulders. I forgot how ethereally beautiful he is.
“What is this Little House on the Prairie moment? Let’s barf some rainbows, and piss melted caramel, then.” I give him a little smirk.
“Are you serious? I almost fainted when I found out about the shooting. Instead of telling me, you asked for a dildo—” I cut off his high-pitched voice—which has reached alien frequencies—before he reveals to Luca that I contacted him using the phone hidden inside my panties.
“You are blowing out my ears. Gosh, Fly, use your inside voice,” I whine, pushing him off a little. “Now let me see that engagement ring.”
He glares at me, but then can’t resist and shows me his hand where a princess-cut diamond is sitting all pretty.
“What a beau-ty.” Marco does have taste.
“Luca looks angry,” Fly states, looking behind me.
“Your instincts are spot on,” Luca confirms.
“When aren’t you angry?” My rhetorical question is completely ignored.
“How did you know he wanted a dildo, Fly?” Luca’s question seems to short-circuit my friend’s brain. How did he keep his shared past hidden from Marco for weeks before he was found out?
Fuck, I need to find a reasonable explanation quickly. “Carlo!” I blurt out without thinking.
“Yes!” Fly seems to regain some brain cells. “I heard him talking to Marco about Art wanting a sex toy and other…stuff.”
I’m dead.
Luca snarls all his fury, turning his eyes toward the door. But then his body freezes, and he narrows his eyes at me, “How did you know Fly heard it from Carlo?”
I’m dead and buried under a thick layer of soil.
“What’s with all the questions? Do you think I’m lying?” Fly’s surprised tone makes me pause. I’d have bought his hurt expression if I didn’t know he was lying his custom-made panties off.
Luca opens his mouth and then closes it again. His eyes dart from me to Fly before he finally lets it go. Wow. Okay, I’m learning a new side to my friend and I’m a little intimidated.
“I brought everything! Ta-da,” Fly exclaims, ending his performance to raise the bag he dropped on the floor when he hugged me.
I smile at him, maybe too brightly since I feel Luca’s suspicious glare on me.
I’m dead, buried, and half-eaten by worms at this point.
“Butterfly, why didn’t you wait for me?” Marco Moretti makes his way into the condo, looking all dark and commanding. Are those attributes required to become a Leone boss? Since they all seem to possess them. He’s shorter than Luca, less brawny, more beardy, but equally daunting.
Fly almost runs to him and kisses his cheek. “I couldn’t wait. I needed to be sure Art was fine. Santo was with me.” He points to his bodyguard standing near Carlo.
“What are you doing here?” Luca asks Marco.
“I tried calling, but your fucking phone is always busy.” Marco sniffs, tapping his pack of cigarettes until one slides out. He lights it and moves toward the open window, followed by Luca.
As they start confabulating, I turn to Fly. “Did you bring it?”
“Yes.” He’s still fidgeting. “It’s in here.” He pats his enormous shoulder bag. “I didn’t have time to hide it among the other things.”
“So what’s in the plastic bag?” I point at the one in his hand as I go back to the nuts.