Chapter 5 Maddie #2
“You owe me money. Do you think I wouldn’t do a background check?”
I take another sip of wine. “I guess that’s reasonable. What would the terms be?"
"You would live here while working off the debt. Room and board provided, plus a small salary to cover personal expenses."
"Live here?" My voice comes out higher than intended. “At your villa?”
"My business requires discretion. It would be more convenient to have you nearby."
"For how long?"
"Until the debt is satisfied."
"Which would be how long?"
"That would depend on the value of your services."
The way he says "services" makes me wonder exactly what kind of work he has in mind. "And if I refuse both options?"
"Then we would need to explore other arrangements."
"Such as?"
"I'm sure together we could think of something."
The threat is subtle but unmistakable. I don't really have a choice here, and we both know it.
"I need time to think about it,” I tell him.
"Of course. You can think about it while you’re here tonight."
"Tonight?"
"You'll be staying here tonight. Your house has no electricity, no heat, and questionable security. It wouldn't be safe for you to return there alone."
And there it is.
The moment where he shows his true colors. Typical arrogant asshole thinks I’ll sleep with him to pay off a debt.
"Absolutely not." I stand up so fast my chair scrapes against the floor. "I'm going back to my house. Right now."
"Maddie—"
"No. And it’s Madison to you. Only my friends call me Maddie.
This whole evening has been lovely, truly, but I'm not staying here overnight with a complete stranger who sabotaged my car and is trying to collect a debt I never agreed to. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find someone, some official, some lawyer who can untangle this mess. There has to be a way.”
His expression doesn't change. “I'm afraid that's not possible."
"Watch me make it possible." I head toward what I think is the front door. "You can have your scary driver take me back, or I can walk back on my own. Either way, I'm leaving."
"The roads are dangerous at night. Wild boar, steep drops off the edge of the road."
"I'll take my chances with the wildlife, thanks. Have you ever heard the saying about American women choosing the bear over men? Well, I’m choosing the wild boar in this case."
He moves to block my path, not aggressively, but suddenly he's standing between me and the exit. "Madison, calm down and be reasonable."
"Calm down?" I laugh, but there's no humor in it.
"Did you really just say that? Do you have any idea what it does to a woman when you suggest she should calm down?
And you want to talk about reasonable? Let's start with not stranding people by cutting their brake lines or whatever the fuck your goons did to my rental car.
Let's talk about not springing imaginary debts on unsuspecting house buyers.
Let's discuss not kidnapping women for candlelight dinners then demanding they spend the night! "
"No one is kidnapping anyone."
"Then I'm free to leave?"
"Yes, but I would prefer if you stayed."
"Tough shit, Enzo. And I would prefer to go home. Guess which one of us gets to make that choice."
We stare at each other for a long moment. I can see him calculating, weighing options, deciding how far he's willing to push this.
"Very well," he says finally, and steps aside. "I'll have Antonio drive you back."
"Don't bother. I'll walk back alone."
"Madison, it's five kilometers down a mountain road with no streetlights."
"Then I guess I'll get my exercise in for the day."
I march toward the front door before he can argue further, my heels clicking against the marble floors with more confidence than I actually feel. The sound echoes through his perfect house like gunshots.
"This is foolish," he calls after me. “You’re being ridiculous.”
"Maybe. But it's my choice."
I walk out his front door and don't look back, even though I can feel him watching from the doorway. The circular driveway crunches under my heels, and then I'm through the gates and onto the dark mountain road.
It's immediately obvious that this was a terrible idea.
The road is narrow, winding, and completely unlit except for the weak glow from my phone's flashlight. My dress shoes weren't designed for hiking down mountains, and every step on the uneven asphalt threatens to send me tumbling into whatever lies beyond the edges of the road.
But I keep walking because the alternative is going back and admitting he was right.
And there is no fucking way I’m doing that.
After about ten minutes, my feet are killing me and I'm starting to question my life choices. The confident clicking of my heels has deteriorated into an uneven stumble-clack as I try to navigate around potholes and loose stones.
Something rustles in the bushes to my left, and I freeze completely.
Wild boar. He mentioned wild boar.
I stand perfectly still and shine my phone light toward the sound, but all I can see are dark shapes that might be dangerous animals or might just be bushes moving in the wind.
"This is fine," I whisper to myself. "Just a pleasant evening stroll down a mountain in the dark. People do this all the time. He was probably lying about the wild boar to scare me."
I take another step and my ankle wobbles dangerously on a loose stone. These heels are going to be the death of me, literally. I consider taking them off and walking barefoot.
That's when I hear a car engine behind me.
Headlights sweep around the curve, and I move to the side of the road, hoping it's just someone from the village heading home late. But the car slows as it approaches, and I recognize the sleek black sedan.
The passenger window rolls down, and Antonio leans over from the driver's seat.
"Signorina," he says in his heavily accented English. "Please. Get in the car."
"I'm fine walking, thanks."
"Is not safe. Please."
Another rustling sound from the bushes, closer this time, makes my decision for me. Pride is one thing, but becoming dinner for whatever lives in these mountains is another.
"Fine," I say, yanking open the passenger door. "But this doesn't mean I'm going back to his house."
"Yes, yes. Your house. I take you to your house."
I collapse into the passenger seat and immediately want to cry with relief. My feet are throbbing, my ankle feels like it might be sprained, and I'm pretty sure I have gravel embedded in my palm from catching myself when I stumbled.
"Thank you," I say as Antonio pulls back onto the road.
"Is nothing. The boss, he was worried."
"The boss can worry all he wants. I'm not his responsibility."
He doesn't respond to that, but I catch him glancing at me in the rearview mirror with something that might be amusement.
The rest of the ride passes in blessed silence.
When we pull up to my disaster house, it looks even more depressing than usual in the darkness. No lights, no warmth, just a pile of old stones that may or may not be structurally sound.
"Signorina," he says as I get out of the car. "You have my number if you need anything." He hands me a business card through the window.
"Thanks," I say, though I'm not sure what kind of help he's offering or whether I'd want it.
After the car disappears down the mountain road, I stand in front of my house and realize I may have just made a terrible mistake. It is completely dark, probably freezing inside, and I can hear things rustling in the bushes that might be wild boar for all I know.
But it's my terrible mistake to make in my own house.
I unlock the front door and step into the darkness, using my phone's flashlight to navigate to the camping supplies I left upstairs. I have a battery-powered lantern, a sleeping bag rated for cold weather, and enough energy bars to last a few days.
It's not luxury, but it's independence.
I set up the lantern and arrange my sleeping bag on the old mattress, then sit in the circle of light and try to process what just happened.
Enzo Benedetti is either the most successful businessman in Sicily or something much more dangerous. His house screams money and power, but there's something underneath all that sophistication that makes me very nervous.
And yet.
The way he looked at me across that candlelit table. The way he said my name like he was tasting it. The way the air seemed to crackle whenever we got too close to each other.
I'm attracted to him. Dangerously, stupidly attracted to a man who's holding a massive debt over my head and sabotaged my car to keep me from leaving.
This is exactly the kind of situation my mother warned me about. Well, not exactly. I don't think Mom ever imagined I'd end up owing money to a potentially criminal Italian businessman. But the general principle applies: when something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
I pull my sleeping bag up to my chin and listen to the old house settling around me. Somewhere in the distance, an owl calls, and the wind rattles the loose shutters.
It's not comfortable, but it's honest. No hidden agendas, no subtle threats wrapped in expensive wine and candlelight. Just me, my disaster house, and a debt problem I need to solve.
Tomorrow, I'll figure out my next move. Tonight, I'm sleeping in my own house, making my own choices.
Even if those choices involve sharing space with mice and possibly bats.
At least the mice don't want anything from me except maybe some crumbs.