4. Vito
4
VITO
That evening
I genuinely thought that when I moved to London to expand my mafia empire that my main problem would be my two identical triplet brothers who are already kingpins here.
But no. Not at all. It’s my pocket-sized ball of sunshine employee.
Miss Cassie Meadows.
I stare at the message.
Amore mio dolce
Hi
My phone doesn’t sound for anyone. Not my brothers, Sev and Rafe, not anyone from Milan where I’ve lived most of my adult life. No one interrupts me.
Except for Miss Meadows.
I turned on alerts for her, because I have to know whenever she contacts me. Whenever she’s thinking of me, I want to relish that, even if it’s only because she’s responding to messages about work.
She’s never initiated a conversation.
Until now.
One word, on a Friday night she insisted on having off and I agreed against my every instinct. I grip my phone as though it might run away. I somehow fear if I stop looking at her one precious word, it will disappear.
“What is it?” Sev asks from the other white leather sofa. We’ve spent the evening together discussing London mafia politics, and he’s been trying to convince me to join the London Mafia Syndicate. I invited him over at the last minute, and he’s been a good sport about my bad mood.
I ignore him, and try to figure out what to reply.
“Are you even listening to me?”
“No,” I reply, and type out a reply on my phone.
Vito
Hello.
For a second, that’s all I can think to say. She says hi, I respond. I will be at the end of the phone anytime she needs. The typing dots appear, then stop. Then start again.
She’s talking to me outside of work. Why?
“Fuck’s sake, Vito,” Sev grumbles, half annoyed, half amused, which is his natural state. All of the Blackwood brothers’, to be honest. “You’ve been away for twenty years and now you’re back, and we’ve hardly seen you in a month. You invite me over for the evening, barely talk, and now you’re on your phone.”
“Vaffanculo.”
“You can swear at me, but you know I’m right.” Sev shrugs.
And the infuriating thing is, that’s probably true.
Amore mio dolce
Soz
I mean, sorry.
No, I don’t. You always message me in the evenings. Not sorry.
Vito
Is everything alright, Miss Meadows?
“Who are you messaging so secretively?” Sev swirls whisky in his glass. Disgusting smoky paint stripper. Wine or beer are so much better.
“It’s just work.” And I’m not sure whether that’s a lie. But I know I wish it were.
Amore mio dolce
Yeeaaahhhsssss ish
“Work?” Sev’s voice comes from behind me, and I jolt. “But you message her on a Friday night, name her ‘amore mio dolce’ in your phone, and address her as Miss Meadows. Your sweet love. What is she? Your dungeon mistress?”
“Something like that,” I mutter, and Sev barks out a laugh. “And get her name out of your mouth, stronzo.”
Unease is snaking through my veins. This doesn’t feel like the cautious, shy Miss Meadows I’m familiar with. Something has lowered her inhibitions dangerously.
Vito
Are you drunk?
Amore mio dolce
It’s a FRIDAY. I’m trying to live a little.
Having shots. Why not?
My blood turns to ice. Who is there with her? I know she isn’t close to her family since she let slip that she only phones her mother once a week. She mentioned a house share, and her nose wrinkled as she did. Does she have someone to take care of her while she’s drunk?
Fuck. That someone is me. It must be me, because no one else will take care of her as well as I will.
Vito
Where are you?
Amore mio dolce
Sorry, this was a mistake. Worst evening ever.
Vito
Where are you?
Desperation pounds in my head.
I don’t even know whether she’s in my territory. What if she’s in Essex or someplace?
“Vito, don’t worry,” Sev says soothingly, still looking over my shoulder. “I’ve got software you can put on her phone so you can keep track of her. It’s reliable. And I can probably find her current position if you give me her phone number.”
“What? No.” I’m distracted, attention split between what my crazy brother is saying and waiting as the notification dots bounce. What is my brother saying? “That’s stalking… No.”
“Nothing wrong with keeping an eye on people,” Sev mutters.
Amore mio dolce
To go with the worst boss, ever.
I’m hit from all sides by fucking terrible thoughts and realisations. My heart is pounding and there’s a tightness in my chest. No, a pain. My hand shakes as I put the phone down, so Sev can’t see anything else she says.
Is this some joke? She thinks I’m a bad boss? I don’t understand. I’ve tried to take care of her. A huge salary, proper food so she’s healthy, ensuring she doesn’t slouch and damage her back, the prestigious office right next to mine. Alright, there’s some self interest in that I want her close to me.
My brother is saying whatever the fuck he says in that goddamn drawl that’s exactly like mine except without an Italian accent. I can’t hear him over the ringing in my ears.
Worst boss ever?
Whatever she thinks, there is one person I’m not listening to. “Shut up, Sev.”
Vito
Location. Now.
Amore mio dolce
At a bar.
Vito
Which bar?
Amore mio dolce
Dunno
Vito
Which bar, Miss Meadows? Tell me now.
Amore mio dolce
Keep your hair on
Vito
I am. You’re turning it grey.
Amore mio dolce
You’d think they’d have a “you are here” sign for drunk people.
I’ll ask the barman.
Vito
No.
Amore mio dolce
Why not?
Because she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, and she’ll have men swarming around her. They’ll be trying to get into her knickers. Maybe the barman, or anyone in the bar. Panic surges. I can’t let her be taken advantage of if she’s drunk in a bar. She sounds drunk. She’s around drunk people . Anything could happen to her.
Vito
Send me a pin of your location.
I hold my breath. Part of me is convinced she will ignore me, or refuse. One minute ticks by, then two. I have to inhale. I force myself to.
“I use it to keep tabs on… Someone important,” Sev is wittering on, trying to show me some app or another. I give him a death look and he rolls his eyes. “What is the point of being a mafia boss if you’re not going to use shady techniques?”
“Because…” I can’t express why I have to play it straight with Miss Meadows. Cassie . God, I really shouldn’t allow myself to think of her like that. After all, how did I discover it? By having HR send me her file, and reading it over and over again.
I like to think I’m more moral than Sev, which admittedly doesn’t take much. But equally, I don’t have a spotless record, especially if you go back to my early years in Milan. Or last month with Mr Hathaway.
If she knew… Miss Meadows wouldn’t tell me where she was if she didn’t trust me. There’s nothing to keep me hoping, not dots indicating an update on the screen as I watch the static background and re-read our exchange while Sev says unhelpful younger brother things, like, “We could put a tracker on her handbag.”
But then it appears, popping up with no text. Just a map with a precise location in London.
“Good girl,” I breathe, my chest relaxing like I’ve recovered from a heart attack.
Sev quirks an eyebrow and smirks. “Like that, is it?”
I’m on my feet. “I’m going out. You stay here.”
“This is your house.” Sev looks at me like I’m crazy.
“Don’t trash it. You can drink yourself stupid, if you want.” I shove my suit jacket on, but don’t bother looking in a mirror, or putting on a tie. I stride down the long, white corridor at a pace that is only just not a run.
“Where are you going?” Sev keeps up with me.
“To a bar.”
“Sounds fun. I’ll come with you.”
“No.” But I don’t do more than mutter, “Fuckwit” when he gets into the passenger side of the car. It’s nice to not be totally on my own. I guess. Even if he isn’t the person I really want to be with: Cassie.