Chapter 16 Sophia
Sophia
Even the slight chill in the air before the sun’s warmth heats the day doesn’t make me regret the decision to get up early and come out on the balcony.
I stretch my legs out atop the cushioned wrought iron chair next to mine and stretch the long camel-colored sweater over me, to cover my body to just below my knees.
The sound of the French doors causes my attention to shift. Massimo walks out in a pair of nicely fitting denims and a dark grey sweater with gold chains that showcase his family crest.
He hits a button that I had not previously noticed and points above us. “The balcony will warm up shortly. I didn’t realize you would be out here so early, or I would have turned them on already.”
My eyebrows arch, trying hard to look at him and keep my gaze from wandering to the package he’s carrying around in those snug fitting jeans. But it’s hard, damn hard.
Massimo folds himself into the seat beside me and reaches for the carafe in the middle of the table and a cup that I’ve left upside down for him. “Did you make this?” he asks.
“I did. There’s a coffee pot in the kitchenette; don’t you have one?
” I ask, sipping the cream- filled imported coffee from Italy.
“I love this brand. We always have it on hand at home. Who knows how it arrives, in a plane full of drugs, on some of the trucks we deliver supply with, or any number of ways our fathers and their ancestors have devised for getting us what we want.”
He stops pouring mid-stream and gives me a smirk. “My, you are in good spirits today. There’s no fear of getting bored with you around, no?”
I shrug. “It’s a trained technique to keep you guessing and not focused on what it is that I’m really trying to do. Now, did you have second thoughts about my call today or are you a man of your word, Massimo Roselli?”
Massimo settles back in his seat, folding a powerful long leg across the other. “You’ll get your call, Sophia, but there’s something you should know before you phone your family.”
I swallow past a lump that immediately forms. Fear, real fear of what he may tell me.
My father is dead, my sister is dead, my whole family is dead, the soldiers coming to rescue me have been defeated and our deal is off.
All of the scenarios playing quickly through my mind as alternative after alternative of destruction play out.
“Tell me,” I whisper, holding my hands around the warmth of the mug.
“I have it on good authority that your father is not going to give the money back. He is denying involvement in the hijacking of the trucks, refusing to reconcile with repayment, and leaving no option but war between the families.”
My chest tightens and my blood begins to race. “No, my father would never leave me here, no matter what.”
“I’m not lying to you, or telling you this to hurt you, Sophia, only to prepare you for the conversation that you want to have.”
I pin him with a stare, suddenly doubting why I thought trusting the enemy was even possible.
We are always going to be on different sides, no matter what history writes, our families will always take opposite sides, just to remain the steadfast enemies they’ve always been. I extend a hand. “Your phone?”
His eyebrows arch. “Please?”
I exhale a breath, determined not to give him the satisfaction of thinking he has me scared. “Please, Massimo. You and I, we honor our deals. If you want me to honor mine, you will honor yours. The call is to my father and as we agreed, you may listen.”
He drags a phone from his pocket and enters a number before placing it on the table between us with the speaker on.
My eyes narrow. “How do you know the number I was planning to call?”
He shrugs. “You wouldn’t call a personal and non-published number on the enemy’s line, now would you, Sophia? You will call him on the office line he uses, capische? It will be recorded in a number of ways, by multiple people, no doubt including the FBI as well, so keep this in mind.”
The devil need say no more. All my life the same narrative has been drilled into me day after day, about what to say in public, what not to say on a phone line, in writing, and the list goes on ad nauseam.
“Sometimes it’s hard to believe with all the rules I was even permitted to go to college,” I huff.
“You were permitted but have many, many eyes on you at all times, Sophia.”
I listen to the line ringing, while pinning Massimo with my stare. “And you would know this how? Stalker much?”
He grins. “Just intelligence gathering, but…”
My father’s deep voice comes onto the line. “Papa?”
“Sophia, baby, I can’t believe it’s you. How are you?”
How am I? I’ve been kidnapped by the fucking enemies, and while they’re treating me fine, it’s not like I’m on a fucking vacation.
Yet, I know the drill. No one, especially not the police, or the FBI is to know that I’ve been taken.
No, that would just bring questions to Papa’s door, and to Massimo’s family too.
No, the families will settle it without the help of the organized polizia thank you very much. “I’m fine, but anxious to come home.”
“I’m so glad to hear that.” Yeah, like it’s my fucking choice and the only way it’s going to happen is if he sends his soldiers to bust through the gate around this perimeter. Either way, he’s going to have to give the order, yet Massimo swears that he won’t.
“Are the plans all made?” I ask innocently, knowing it’s putting my father on the spot, glancing at Massimo whose eyes darken with warning. I put up one pointer finger, a gesture for just one more minute. I won’t give anything away, but I need to know. And Massimo should want to know.
“Not yet, princess. Papa is still working on the remodeling. Everything is in shambles here right now. The demo crew has left nothing untouched, everything sacred has been damaged by the storm, except of course us. Me and Anna are okay, and you.”
The recent storm. Anyone listening will assume that’s exactly what he’s talking about, unless they’re smart enough to dig into it, but of course there’s so many lines tapped each day, who has time to follow up and confirm every single strand of information on a call?
“I see, well I hope the remodeling team gets things put back together soon. Papa, the damage, it wasn’t our fault?”
He sighs. “This storm had been brewing for a long time, building strength, there was nothing that we could have done to prevent it, princess. We just have to let the aftereffects ride out. We did nothing, but must clean up the mess and move on once it blows over. Capische?”
I hold back the tears. “Capische,” I tell him before ending the call.
I expect to see a gloating Massimo when I look up, but the look in his eyes almost makes it worse.
Pity. He was right. My father is not going to own up to one damn thing, and he’s not planning to come for me, but instead thinks he can wait it out while it blows over.
All while his daughter is stuck in the fucking enemy camp trying to do anything and everything to get the fucker’s debt absolved and to get free.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” I ask, wiping my eyes.
He takes a sip of his coffee and puts his mug down before topping my cup off with warm coffee and a little drizzle of fresh cream. “I am sorry. I hate to see you upset.”
“Looks like you’ll be seeing a lot of me unless you want to kill me or send me to the warehouse, because that did not sound like a man who planned to send in the enemies to get his baby girl back.
It sounded a lot like someone who doesn’t give a fuck about anything except people believing his word.
Our ancestors, they are really fucking stubborn, aren’t they? ”
Massimo laughs. “I see a lot of that in you too, Sophia. Do not condemn what you do not fully understand. I have to remind myself of the same thing, time after time with my father when he pushes my buttons. And that man pushes them all the fucking time.”
I grin. “Well, that I would pay to see. The famous Massimo Roselli getting pissed off at this old man and having to hold his tongue.”
He smirks. “Finish your coffee. We’ll go down to the main dining room for breakfast, and then I’ll take you for a drive. If you promise not to try and get away.”
“Would you make that promise if you were me?”
He grins. “If you try to get away, then the deal we made is off. If you want to win the deal, at least try to play along with it all, not just the parts you like.”
My eyes raise to the sky as the sun peeks through the clouds. “I like no parts of your sordid deal, Massimo Roselli, but I do plan to win.”
“The fact that you think you will makes it that much more pleasurable to me. Now hurry along, and grab some sensible shoes and a swimsuit.
I try hard to keep the balance of emotions from toppling from one side to another or falling completely down the hill altogether.
Because I have no doubt in hell that I won’t be able to get up.
I should be running far away from Massimo, but whatever this connection is, whatever that inner chemistry that makes my blood thrum, my heart race and moisture gather at my center when he’s near, it is very hard to deter.
But that’s what I have to do if I’m going to win this deal, and I have to win the deal if I’m going to get our family out of a debt that my father says is not ours to pay. No matter what I do, which side I take, what line I draw, I will be at war with someone.
The unfortunate part is I don’t know who will be left standing after the families tear each other apart and I’m not likely to get the information from either Massimo or my father, especially not on a public line.
No, I’m going to need to get to the truth a different way, and for that, I’m going to need a little leeway, and for that, I need to continue to play the game…
While never conceding or so much as screaming his name…