7. Two weeks later
SEVEN
TWO WEEKS LATER
Lake
After the day of my interview in Alessio’s office, I never gained access to it again. With Alessio gone, I haven’t informed the extortionists of anything they find useful. Hence, I’m sporting another bruise under my ribs from the bitch who keeps treating me like her damn punching bag.
If I thought I could take her down, I would, but she’s about six feet tall, thick, and has a hell of a right hook she uses indiscriminately. I’m five foot five and dislike violence second only to confrontation. I’m the type of person who would pick up Leo’s crayon and draw a peace sign on her forehead so every time she looks in the mirror, it serves as a reminder to restrain herself and stop slapping me around.
I’ve never hated anyone in my life (not even my ex), but she might be my first.
I’m trying not to hate her, though.
I make excuses for her based on my understanding of her motivations, and I can’t help but wonder if I could do what she’s done to me if I believed someone had hurt my baby brother. The sadist and the woman claim that Alessio ordered the execution of more than a dozen men, and she wants Alessio and the killer to pay for it.
They claim Alessio operates one of the most powerful criminal intelligence organizations in the world. His business structure is unlike the traditional criminal organizations normally formed in various parts of the world, which is why nobody can pin him down.
The sadist tried to explain Alessio’s organization structure and reach, but I didn’t understand much of what he said because the extent of my criminal activity goes as far as speeding on a highway. The cop busted me, and I paid a stiff fine.
I couldn’t even get away with a free pass on a highway. How does a man busted for multiple murders he turned himself in for vanish, never to be found again?
I must admit that the extortionists have a case. It’s just that they’re hurting innocent people trying to prove that case, and they might hurt Val, who is pregnant with twins. And they might hurt the little boy who reminds me so much of my little brother (who they are following daily). I have no choice but to do whatever they ask of me.
I put my life on the line. If Alessio is who they say he is, he’ll kill me if he ever finds out I’ve infiltrated his house for the purpose of sharing information about him or his family. I know this like I know how to spell lasagna. Leo explained why there’s a g in the word lasagna and told me the g is not silent after all, but a part of a sound Italians make that’s spelled as a gn .
“The caterpillar story is better,” Leo says, blue eyes droopy. He’s almost asleep, and I’m mentally preparing for my long soak in the tub.
When I first asked for a live-in position when Val hadn’t expected to hire a live-in governess, I thought she’d put me in a spare guest bedroom. Val offered me an entire guest house and the use of the pool in the courtyard between the mansion and the guest house.
The Angelinis have their own cosmetics and beauty lines, so I also get to sample different products Val asked me to test. If it wasn’t for all the hazards and life-threatening stuff, this might be the best job I’ve ever had. And that includes the awesome travel gig I landed with my New York magazine, which paid for my trip here.
Alas, they fired me when I didn’t return. Didn’t even grant me a leave of absence when I finally contacted them a week after not showing up for work with the articles I promised about the island. They asked for them, but I couldn’t finish them.
I had planned to finish writing about the island on the flight back, and now I’m unable to write because of how stressed I am about spying on the Angelinis.
Leo nudges me with his foot.
He’s in bed, and I’m in the rocking chair. I assume someone (hopefully his mother) used to rock him to sleep. I want to ask about Giulia Angelini, but I never summon enough courage to pry into Val’s private business, and I won’t ask Leo. What I don’t know can’t hurt them.
“Sorry, what were you saying?” I ask.
The boy smiles. “I said nothing.”
I tap my chin, trying to recall what he’d said. Ah, I know. “You said that the caterpillar story is better.”
“That was before I talked about Star Cruisers.”
I chuckle. “Fair enough.” The clock reads 9:30. “It’s past your bedtime, Leo. You should sleep.” I can’t leave him until he’s asleep. Val never asked me to put him to bed, but three nights ago, Leo asked for me, and the first night I sat here, he made me promise I’d stay. So I stay till he falls asleep.
“I don’t want to sleep,” he says. “I’m staying awake.”
“Why?”
“Because my uncle is coming.”
My heart drums faster. “He’ll be here in the morning.”
Leo shakes his head. “That’s what he says to my aunt. But he comes at night, and we sit in his big office and eat ice cream from the container like grown-ups.”
The boy is intelligent and is becoming fluent in English within a week. He also speaks Italian and French. While his accent is thick, his fluency and extensive vocabulary are impressive.
“That sounds fun.”
Leo nods. “He likes vanilla.”
I clear my throat. “What kind of ice cream do you like?”
“Pistachio. You?”
“Chocolate. Rocky road.”
“Never had rocky road.”
“It’s a big one in the States. I’ll look for it at the store. Would you like that?”
Leo answers by nodding.
For the next hour, we don’t speak, and Leo’s breathing evens out, his eyes closing. He’s sleepy now, and I feel bad. He’s so small and tired, and he’s not going to make it through the next hour when he was looking forward to his uncle’s return and the ice cream he’ll eat with him in the middle of the night.
It doesn’t sound like something a calculating man like Alessio would do, but I’ve seen the playful side of him, and let me tell you, it’s as comforting as it is addictive.
If he hadn’t restrained me, I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off him for over six hours straight. Maybe that’s why he restrained me. Did I mention Alessio’s stamina? Better not to think about it.
Leo’s eyelids close.
I rise from the rocking chair and turn off the lamp, then head outside, open the door, and scream at the top of my lungs. I skid back and away from the man at the door who scared the crap out of me. I keep my hand pressed over my heart so it doesn’t jump out.
“Oh my God,” I whisper-hiss.
“Uncle!” Leo’s scream is second in volume only to mine as he springs out of bed and rushes at Alessio, who picks him up immediately and kisses him on the cheeks.
The boy clings to him like a little monkey, even lays a cheek on Alessio’s shoulder. Kids do this all the time. But boys his age? Not so much. My heart breaks for this kid who lost his mother and obviously has no father around. My heart also breaks for my little brother, who’s got no parents to raise him. I want to go home to my little brother and hold him the way Alessio holds Leo.
Other than a brief nod at me, Alessio says nothing, but turns on his polished leather shoe and leaves. Even though it’s dark in Leo’s room, and he couldn’t see my face clearly, the fact he didn’t recognize me stings a bit. But it also means he might not recognize me tomorrow, or even for days after tomorrow, and I could just go on about my spying in his house without him getting suspicious.
Fat chance of that.
I remain in the boy’s room for about half an hour before going downstairs. After I finally summon the courage to exit, I duck right back into Leo’s bedroom because I catch sight of Val’s robe fluttering over the top of the stairs. I hear the family chatting in the kitchen.
The way to the guest house at the back of the property is through the mud room in the kitchen, and there’s no way I’m going to disrupt the family reunion. I want Leo to eat ice cream out of the container the way he tried so hard to stay awake for.
This means I must wait.
I sit back down in the chair, leaving the bedroom door open so I can hear when they leave the kitchen area.
* * *
I open my eyes and gasp at the numbers on the white neon clock. It’s four minutes past midnight, and I fell asleep in the rocking chair. Shit. I get up and rub my eyes as I descend the steps, hearing voices coming from the direction of Alessio’s office, which is opposite the kitchen.
At the bottom of the step, I stare at the large, luxurious foyer, knowing I should take a right toward the kitchen and the mud room. Instead, I pause at the bottom of the steps and tip-toe toward the entrance, where I turn and face the office.
Leo sits on Alessio’s desk eating ice cream from a little green container while Alessio leans all the way back in his chair with his legs on the desk beside Leo, his feet crossed at the ankles. The unbuttoned, crisp white shirt reveals his tanned chest as he scoops ice cream from a beige container. They’re chatting quietly in French.
Leo leans toward Alessio even as he eats, and Alessio is turned toward the boy. Their seating arrangement as well as their body language tells me they’re comfortable with each other. It makes me wish I could take a picture.
But I can’t, because I no longer own a phone.
Even if I had one, I doubt I would violate their privacy in such a way, but nevertheless, the moment they share should be documented.
Alessio’s eyes snap up.
I freeze. I’m not breathing. If I could stop my heart from beating so loudly, I would.
It’s the middle of the night, and I doubt he can see my face from that distance. But I’m intruding on him. Spying on his private moment with his nephew. And I can’t leave because Alessio is pinning me with those striking blue eyes.
I’m afraid to move. I’m afraid that if I walk, my knees might buckle, and I’ll stumble and slide down onto the foyer floor like a newborn calf that hasn’t learned to walk yet.
Alessio licks his spoon. “Good night, Ms. Wilder.”
A dismissal if ever I heard one. Thank God.