22. Etta
22
Etta
‘In The Air Tonight’ - Phil Collins
I taly is hot.
Or maybe it’s because I’m hot. Everywhere. Flushed and sweating and needing release.
The journey here was arduous and long. Nine hours in the air. Two hours in the international airport in Casablanca, Morocco. Another three-hour flight landing in Rome and a forty-minute drive to our hotel.
I shouldn’t complain. I’m flying around the world for free, via private jet, with anything I want at my fingertips.
Still… I’m fucking exhausted.
My lower back and ass have turned to stone, and my neck has a dozen different knots forming between my shoulder blades. I’m in need of a shower or a bath. A huge bowl of fresh spaghetti, too, and five glasses of Aperol spritz chilled to perfection would be wonderful. I relay this all to Odin as we enter the elevator.
Dom and Ford have already been to our room to leave our bags and check the security. It’s terrible to let them do all that knowing they are just as tired as I am. But if I even tried to help, Ford would throw me off the balcony into the nearest pool.
“Are you staying with me?” I ask as the doors open, revealing a marble floor and a hallway decorated with tall black vases, as large as a small child, with sprigs of greenery. Knowing the cost of this place, I’m sure they’re real. Everywhere I turn is a smattering of dove gray-streaked white marble, gold trim, and rich wooden furniture.
Odin glances my way. “Yes, your highness, I’m staying with you.”
Ford has hired more security to be looking after us over the next week and the wedding festivities. It’s unsettling seeing so many men in casual attire stationed randomly around the lobby and on the level of our room. I stupidly wish that Ford could have just cloned himself. Dom seemed happy about it, though. Less pressure on his husband. Less stress knowing, he is the only one to look after all of us.
Odin takes out the key to our room from his pocket. The black roman numerals tattoo at the bottom of his left wrist catches my eye. I’ve seen them often enough now that I know what they are.
IX. X. MMX.
09. 10. 2010.
A date of importance.
The penthouse room we are sharing is the only room on the sixth floor, and when Odin swings the door open, my jaw drops all the way down to the carpet.
An opulent room with cream lounges, glass coffee tables, and a wall completely covered in artwork greets us first. Separated by another glass and gold standing display, is a small dining room with a vase full of fresh roses resting atop of a rounded mahogany table. An impressive private bar stocked with various liquors and cocktail glasses is behind it.
The view is phenomenal. Large square windows reveal a panoramic view of Rome and its sea of red and rusty-colored roof tops.
Odin walks up to my side, his presence a wonderful familiarity in another city I have never been to before.
“You have a fitting for a dress tomorrow morning,” he says.
I swallow away the tightness in my throat. “Oh.”
“I hope you have something in mind.”
“I do, actually.” I keep my eyes trained on the horizon, unable to look at him for such a delicate topic. “Do you have a suit?”
Odin shrugs and leans his hands on the windowsill. “I have a few to pick from.”
“You’re not going to wear something special? It’s a big day.”
“It’s not that big.” I take my gaze off the rooftops and admire him. He looks somber as he says, “The special days are the ones that seem small the moment you’re in them.”
I stare at him for several heavy seconds before a knock comes at the door. Odin leaves me to get it.
Dom enters with a young woman with creamy skin, burnt blonde hair and a light brown leather jacket. Her hair is cut like she just came from a 1970s Woodstock festival—blow waves and a thick fringe, her entire face covered in light brown freckles that match the color of her chocolate eyes. A septum piercing shines between her nostrils.
She doesn’t necessarily look like a wedding planner. She doesn’t look like she likes weddings at all. She seems out of place in Rome, but in this room, she understands. She takes in the two of us like she knows who we are already. Like she’s been around this type of situation before and is just ticking items off the list.
I don’t know what it is, but I like her instantly.
“Etta, Odin, this is Gwen, and she will be helping us to make sure this wedding runs smoothly and without hiccups.”
Gwen steps forward and shakes both our hands. She’s slightly taller than me in her heeled boots, but she bends herself to make sure our eyes meet on the same level. She does the same with Odin, lifting her chin so that it gives the illusion they are a similar height.
“Nice to meet you,” she says with a deep American accent.
Dom encourages us all to take a seat. Odin places a hand behind my back as we sit on the same couch together. I glance sideways to find he is already looking at me.
Dom continues despite our lack of attention. “Etta, you have a fitting tomorrow morning—”
There’s a commotion beyond the door to our room. The sound of a grunt and someone hitting the wall. I jump, my composure hanging by a thread since finding the note in our room.
Odin squeezes my knee. “It’s just Ford.”
I take a steady breath. The door to our room opens, Ford stumbles in. Something comes rushing at me. Something golden and furry and panting.
“Juniper!” I yell as she leaps onto my lap, her paws seeking purchase on my chest. Laughing, I run my hands through her fur and squeeze her face as she licks me. “Oh my God, I’ve missed you.”
“She’s all yours,” Ford calls, wiping his hands on his shirt. “She pooped twice on the way up here.”
Martise waltzes in after him, holding Juniper’s collar in the air. “She also knows how to slip out of this. Cheeky girl. ”
I try to settle Juniper quickly, since it seems like Dom has a few important things to cover. She lies down on my feet, panting hard from exertion. I’m blanketed by her fur, the familiar sight a balm on my weary heart. I’m so relieved knowing she’s here, providing me the best type of comfort.
Dom clears his throat. Martise takes a seat beside him, while Ford stands with his arms crossed, leaning against the door. “We have a late dinner with the Lombardos tonight, and I think we should all be on the same page.”
“Tonight?” I say, stunned by the need to do everything so soon. Can’t we all just take a break? Breathe for a second? I don’t know. Fucking sightsee?
“Correct,” Dom answers.
Odin’s leg shifts closer to mine. Knee against knee. If I broke down and asked him to not go through with it, would he? How far has our relationship evolved?
My head beats painfully. My energy is wavering. I need a fucking nap before I’m introduced to my extended family.
My fingers curl into Juniper, my body purposely leaning toward Odin. I try my best to listen, but all I can think about is fucking this all up.
I’m not an actress, far from it.
I know I’m going to say something stupid, maybe something rude, especially if I’m this tired and wound up. This debrief is imperative if I’m going to maintain this ruse and make it out of it alive.
“What do I need to do?”
“Don’t drink anything they hand you, don’t take any drugs they offer you, and don’t find yourself alone with any of them,” Dom says. “Stick close to Martise. She knows how to handle these types of people. ”
I glance at Odin and read a message in his eye.
And hate me. Hate me throughout it all.
That might be the hardest part.
The seriousness of the situation crystallizes. These people are dangerous. The law doesn’t bow down to them. And if I’m not careful and clever, they could hurt me, or someone in this room.
Swallowing, I nod. My skin is cold and clammy, but I try to show Odin that I’m strong.
In a situation where I’ve never had a choice. I have one now. And I know that I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure I play my part and play it well, even if it means throwing myself as chum into an ocean full of starving sharks.