15. Are you the Lord?
FIFTEEN
ARE YOU THE LORD?
Lake
Yesterday’s lunch with Alessio and Leo went better than I hoped, mainly because people kept visiting our table. Watching Alessio interact with hotel staff, friends, and even random strangers reminded me of how formal and cold he is with people.
After the conversation where he told me we should keep a respectable distance, I understand him better. Still, his personality is off-putting and even downright scary. At the same time, he draws people to him. It’s like being around a lion. You can’t look away from him, even though you should.
When interacting with others, he doesn’t smile except for a forced curve of his lips once in a while. When we speak, he smiles sincerely, as if he decided he’d share a secret with me. I’m unsure why he chose me that night, but he did, and now neither of us can go back.
It’s only a matter of time before I fall into bed with him.
It’s only a matter of time before he discovers I’m spying on him.
But if I think about that, I’ll start plotting my escape routes, one of which keeps looping in my head. I could go to the US embassy and tell them everything. The embassy staff would make sure I was protected from the moment I left here to the second I landed at home, and the authorities there could protect my little brother and my aunt and uncle. Couldn’t they?
That one shred of doubt has me complying with everything. I can’t risk my little brother’s life. I just can’t do it. And then the question becomes, who will kill me? Alessio or the sadist?
My money is on Alessio.
This morning, he entered the gym around seven instead of four. It’s a Sunday, so maybe not working out until seven is his version of sleeping in. Regardless, he exercised longer than usual, showered, and since then hasn’t left his office.
Since I must meet the sadist or his wife today and deliver any relevant information, I hoped he’d take Leo somewhere so I could have the house to myself. But he planted his fine ass on the office chair, and he’s not moving.
I need to get into that office. Hence why I hoped he’d let me stay at the house alone. The staff comes back to work tomorrow, so the house will be busy, which would make sneaking into his office much more complicated. And doing it at night isn’t an option because the outside cameras will record me walking across the courtyard. There’s no reason for me to be in the main house that late.
I have everything I need in my guest house. Lucky me.
Since I can’t snoop around in his office before I leave, I leave the guest house and cross the courtyard, heading for the main house.
Since I don’t have money because I was robbed, and my paycheck won’t come until the end of the month, I plan to stroll along the beach. Thankfully, I don’t need a phone while I’m on the island, and the sadists made me call my family so as not to raise alarms. My little brother made me promise I’d come for Thanksgiving.
I’ll do everything in my power to keep that promise.
With that in mind, the sadist needs a way to approach me. Finally, I have some information he might find useful.
At the door to the main house, I wave goodbye to Alessio, who’s working behind his desk with the door open. I swear he’s exactly like a lion, causally lounging on a hill watching his pride roll in the grass, making sure everyone is where they’re supposed to be.
I twist the knob and pull, expecting the door to open. Nope. I slam my forehead into the wood. Ouch. I rub my forehead, feeling for a bump, before giving Alessio a side-eye. He’s on the phone and taking notes, so at least he didn’t see me whack my head.
I try to open the door again.
Definitely locked.
This must be Alessio’s thing, because Val never locked anything. I knock on the open door of his office.
Alessio gestures for me to come in. Since someone’s on the speaker of his phone placed on the dark mahogany desk, he’s not paying attention to me. I take the opportunity to walk deeper into his space, toward the minibar cart near the other end of the library. Above it, at least a hundred color-coded pins hold up a large world map.
Tiny tags hang from a thread tied around the head of each pin. I read a tag hanging from a large blue pin that’s stabbed into the heart of Isola di Monteverro. It’s a date and time.
Rows of color-coded sticky notes frame the map. I look for a blue note with the date and time marked at the top and find the one matching the tag. It reads:
Plane landed in Paris.
Holy crap.
I read the note under it.
Val’s tracking signal recorded.
Alessio tracks his sister’s whereabouts.
I read the other notes. They’re all about Val’s movements, and they’re dating back at least three years. Holy crap, Alessio’s been tracking his sister for years. Does she know?
It’s clear that the map is usually hidden behind a sliding panel. Does Val know about this?
I recall her saying how it’s not the first time she’s taken his plane and how her baby daddy and Alessio are enemies. Want a way to piss off your controlling brother? Sleep with his enemy.
Alessio will hate it. But also, Val’s no pushover. She does what she wants. I admire that.
Gaping at Alessio, I point at the map, accusing him of tracking his sister.
Alessio mouths, What?
“Stalking your own sister is next level,” I whisper because he’s on the phone.
Alessio chuckles and extends a hand toward me. I take it, and he yanks me forward so I tumble into his lap. He holds me down by my hip when I try to get up. There’s no escape. I throw up my hands.
Clearly suppressing a smile, Alessio pinches his lips. When I try to get up again, he digs his fingers into my hip and growls while also shaking his head.
I’m stuck on his lap.
My shoulders slump, and I sigh dramatically but don’t fight him. It’s a losing battle. If he’s the lion, I’m a gazelle. I just want to graze the grass, mind my business, and not get spotted by a lion.
Yeah, well, I should’ve run when I saw him in the bar. He threw up so many barriers, telling me, quietly and politely, that he didn’t want to be approached by a woman. But I couldn’t walk away.
“My emotional support pet arrived,” Alessio says, no doubt describing me to the man on the other line.
“I had no idea you had one,” the man says.
“I do. She’s very cute. Say hi to Mr. Bono.”
“Hi,” I say.
Mr. Bono doesn’t utter a word, probably because he expected an actual pet, and pets don’t speak.
Alessio gives my hip a squeeze. “You look lovely,” he murmurs.
“Thank you.”
Alessio plays in the big leagues, and I’m sure he knows that the quickest way to a woman’s heart is through compliments.
He refreshes something on the screen. “It’s outdated,” he says.
“I updated it this morning,” the man replies.
“It’s almost noon,” Alessio says in a tone that makes me think he’s convinced it’s midnight and the entire day is over.
I giggle, but when Alessio cuts me a look that tells me he’s serious, I hide my smile under my palm. Apparently, emotional support pets can’t talk unless he wants them to. That’s fine.
Since he’s discussing business, and I’m actually in his office, I snoop around his desk. Casually, I lift papers, folders, the stapler. The screen flashes, and I look up to see a spreadsheet with many random numbers matched with a row of numbers with many zeros. Are those dollars? Wait, what?
I point at the screen. “Are these bank accounts?”
Alessio mutes the phone line. “Try to contain yourself. You and money turn me on. You getting excited about money is dangerous.”
My cheeks feel hot, and I look away.
He opens the phone line again.
Since Alessio doesn’t mind me looking, I memorize the names of corporations and banks, and deposits with at least six zeros. Under the desk, a small drawer with a key hanging from the lock catches my eye. I turn the key and pull out the drawer.
Alessio stills, but I ignore him, pretending I didn’t sense a shift in his mood. Mr. Bono is still speaking, yet Alessio’s attention is on me. I’m the thirsty gazelle the lion is allowing to drink from the river that flows through his territory.
In the drawer, I find two handguns. A golden one with an initial F instead of an A for Alessio and a silver one that looks standard. There’s also a black leather wallet, a stack of passports, and an old plastic flip phone. Burner phone, I believe they call them.
I grab the passports.
Alessio’s chatting again, more relaxed as I go through his passport. There are four of them, and two are diplomatic. Unless they’re fake, it means he has multiple citizenships, and he’s a diplomat.
Wait, this man owns an island, which is a sovereign territory, so how did he get diplomatic access from other places? I guess nowadays, with how often people travel, he could be a citizen of five or more places if he wanted to. Some only require that he buy property.
I return the passports and pick up the burner phone.
Alessio snatches it from me and puts it back, gently closing the drawer but not locking it.
“Mr. Bono, I’m surprised you’re giving me excuses… Yes, I’m aware of days of the week, but Sunday is a working day for me and therefore for you as well.”
“Sunday is the Lord’s day,” Mr. Bono counters.
Alessio leans in. “Are you the Lord?”
Inwardly, I cringe, because Alessio picks up the phone and brings it to his mouth.
“There is only one Lord, and you’re not him, so you’re working today, and since you’re working for me, you must work like Noah did when the Lord told him to build an ark so he could survive the Lord’s wrath. You know Noah’s story, don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And you know why he survived?”
“Yes, sir. He built an ark.”
“That’s right. He was the man who worked relentlessly, tirelessly, while everyone laughed at him. That man survived while all the others drowned. Mercifully, because I bet God made it quick, but still, they did not survive. The point of me bringing up this story is that if you’re on my team, you have an admission ticket to my ark, but you have to keep delivering what I ask when I ask for it so that the ark I’m building can float on the water and not sink. Do you understand?”
“Mr. Angelini, my wife is in labor. That’s why I can’t update the data.”
“Awww,” I say. “Congratulations.”
Alessio frowns. “Your wife is in labor? Where are you right now?”
“In the hospital waiting room.”
“Doing what?”
“Waiting, sir.”
Alessio shuts his eyes tightly, and I get the impression he’s trying to contain himself.
“Listen,” he barks. “Your wife being in labor has nothing to do with your work. In fact, while your wife is working to expel a baby from her body, you’re sitting on the chair arguing with your boss when you could use this time to deliver the numbers the boss asked for so that he won’t fire you just when you need a paycheck the most. In twenty-five minutes, the table will get updated either by me or you. If by me, then I don’t need your services, and I’ll bill you for the time I took to deliver this pep talk.”
Before he hangs up, I place a gentle hand on his forearm.
Alessio lifts an eyebrow. “Hold on, Lake has something to say.”
I whisper in Alessio’s ear, “Ask him where you can send flowers for his wife.”
Alessio nods. “Leave the hospital address with Val.” He tsks. “No. Wait. Not with Val…just…” He looks around.
I grab the pen and paper and jot down an address in France. France. I’ve never been, but it’s on my bucket list.
When the man hangs up, Alessio squeezes my hip and pulls me up on his lap. My bottom presses against his erection, and he smiles when my cheeks heat up.
“Emotional support pet?” I ask.
“You fit on my lap,” he explains.
I shrug. “Works in my favor, actually, because emotional support pets didn’t work on the ark. You can be the modern Noah all you like while I take my day off. Let me know when the ark is done so I can walk in and plop onto whichever cot you built for me.”
Alessio throws back his head and laughs. He lifts me up by my bottom, then rises and starts removing his cuff links.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“For a stroll on the beach.”
“Take Leo with you.”
Oh no.