Chapter 26
Aida returned from London with a heavy heart, not just from the weight of their unfulfilled mission but also from the impending
sense of isolation as the second lockdown began. The streets of Rome quieted once more, a somber silence punctuated only by
the sound of sirens as more and more people were rushed to the hospital with the virus.
With the rise in cases, the Italian government announced a series of measures that would once again restrict movement and
shutter businesses deemed nonessential. International travel was still banned, and flights were restricted, but the second
lockdown was thankfully slightly less limiting on a local level.
People were allowed to go for walks, and there were provisions for congiunti, or cells of no more than six relatives. You were still required to be masked and remain at least two meters apart. But the
terminology of congiunti caused a stir among the Italian people, who were frustrated by the idea that they could not include friends in their cells.
The government quickly clarified that relatives meant spouses, live-in partners, civil union partners, anyone sharing a stable
emotional bond, and blood relatives up to the sixth degree and kin up to the fourth degree.
I would consider what we have a stable emotional bond, Aida told Luciano with a wink emoji.
Anch’io, he said. Me too.
As far as MODA was concerned, this stable emotional bond consisted of Felix, Yumi, and members of the palazzo household, but when they could, Luciano was regularly looped into their more private gatherings.
There was a curfew in place, so most of their meetings took place during the day, outside, properly distanced, with Luciano spoofing his location to be his apartment.
I read a lot of books, he said he told Dolores.
The rains of November didn’t help the situation. The days grew shorter and the nights longer. A new puzzle appeared on the
massive dining room table in the salon, this time one with 42,000 pieces. Dante informed them that it would go all the way
to the table’s edges. Ilario was elated until Pippa began crying. The idea of the world closing up again was beyond stifling.
But, on occasion, Aida would sleep over at Yumi’s new apartment off the Via Margutta, a stylish street not far from the Spanish
Steps, in an area traditionally known as the “foreigners’ quarter.” The best part about Yumi’s apartment—at least in Aida’s
mind—was that she lived only a stone’s throw from Luciano.
One night at the end of November, Aida made a bold decision during one of their sleepovers. When the time was approaching
midnight, she sent Luciano a text, then gave Yumi a hug and headed out.
“Be careful.” She gave Aida a sock in the arm. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“That gives me a lot of leeway.” Aida grinned before letting herself out the door where Luciano was waiting so she wouldn’t
be walking alone in the dark.
“I hope this isn’t a bad idea,” she said as they hurried down the street, hoping to avoid detection by the polizia who were on the lookout for anyone ignoring curfew.
“Of course it’s a bad idea,” he told her. “Doesn’t that make it more exciting?”
“I think you’re exciting enough without the extra dose of danger.”
“If there is any one thing I’ve learned in the last few months, it’s that life is short,” he told her as he opened the door to his apartment.
And then Luciano’s mouth was on hers, his hands roaming across her cheeks, entwining in her hair. She was just as needy, her
body heat rising, the tingle between her thighs building with every kiss. Aida pressed herself against him, running her fingers
hungrily through his hair to bring his lips even harder onto hers, banishing any last thought she had about the gods. There
was only this—the delirious feeling of Luciano, her longing and desperation for him to fill her.
They never made it to the bedroom. Instead, Luciano bent her over the low back of the living room’s mid-century couch. When
he thrust into her, Aida arched in pleasure. Then she was lost, her body merging with his in an intense, pounding beat. It
took every last bit of restraint she had not to scream her pleasure.
Afterward, they found their way to the bedroom, where they dozed, woke, made love, dozed, woke, and made love again. For the
first time in months, Aida didn’t think about anything except how grateful she was for the beautiful man in whose arms she
slept.
But then she was being jostled awake, the last vestiges of a happy dream abruptly slipping from her mind. “Aida, get up, get
up. Get your clothes on now!”
Aida blinked, confused, then realized where she was. She scrambled from the bed and rushed to the living room, where her clothes
were still all over the floor near the door. “What’s going on?” she asked, dread filling her as she pulled on her panties
and socks.
Luciano handed Aida her pants. “Yumi’s been texting over and over, but I’m just now seeing it. She says your MODA phone has
been buzzing for the last hour. She’s getting really worried. We should have set an alarm. It’s already ten.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Aida looked at her personal phone and saw all of Yumi’s messages, missed because her ringer was off. She
dressed faster than she ever had in her life. “How on earth did I forget my MODA phone? I must have left it on the counter
after I texted you. Damn it.
“I love you,” she said, giving Luciano a hasty kiss as he opened the door for her.
She was only a few steps away and ready to break into a sprint when she heard Luciano call after her.
“Aida, did you mean that?”
She turned around. “Mean what?”
He waved his hand at her. “Go, go, you can tell me again later. Go!”
Aida didn’t hesitate. She made it the block and a half to Yumi’s in record time and banged on the door, falling into her friend’s
arms when she opened it.
Yumi shoved Aida’s phone into her hands. “It’s Trista, and she’s starting to sound pissed.”
Panting from the run, Aida opened her messaging app to see at least fifteen messages from her aide. The last one was ominous.
CALL ME NOW.
After taking a second to calm herself, she dialed the phone with a shaky finger.
“Where have you been?”
Yumi had been right, Trista was pissed.
Aida tried to sound like she had just woken up. “I’m so sorry, Trista. We overslept and I had my phone in the bottom of my
bag with the sound low. What’s wrong?”
“I arranged for you to be at Castel Sant’Angelo this morning. I texted you but you haven’t been responding. You were due there
over an hour ago. They opened the site just for you, and you aren’t there.”
This was beyond unusual. Trista hadn’t given her any early indication she was supposed to be at Castel Sant’Angelo. She never
did things last minute. Was this a test to make sure she had her phone on?
“This is not acceptable. I’ll have to report your lack of responsiveness to Fran.”
In moments like this, Aida thought of Trista as a version of Mussolini reincarnate. She wanted all trains to run on time, and she would not take no for an answer, or heads would roll. “Trista, you don’t need to report this. It was an accident. I just overslept. I’ll head there now.”
“Don’t dally, Aida.” She hung up.
Yumi put a comforting hand on her shoulder. “That didn’t sound good.”
“It wasn’t.” She started stripping down on her way to the bathroom. “Can you call me a cab? I’ll be out of the shower before
they get here.”
“You got it.”
Seven minutes later, she hugged Yumi goodbye just as a heavy calm descended over her. Gritting her teeth, she opened the door
to find both the cab waiting and a black car, the latter of which Fran was leaning against, her arms crossed, her face impassive.
She was dressed head to toe in sapphire, her red hair a stunning contrast.
Aida dismissed the cab driver with a five-euro bill and went to the waiting car. Fran held the door open for her, then went
around to the other side and climbed in.
“I didn’t know you were in town,” Aida said as she buckled her seat belt, a good excuse not to look at Fran until she had
to.
“I thought I would be seeing you at the palazzo. But I understand you missed the alarm on your clock.” Fran didn’t sound angry
or frustrated, but Aida wasn’t sure that was any better.
“We were up late talking and watching bad TV and I failed to set one. I’m very sorry. It won’t happen again.” Aida hoped beyond
hope that Fran believed her, but the very fact that the goddess had come in person did not bode well for her.
“You’ve been a good employee, Aida, and if it weren’t for that, we’d be having a different conversation. But you need to work
with your aide. Tell me, do you appreciate this job?”
“Yes . . . very . . . very much,” she replied, her voice faltering as a deep sense of dread crept in.
The thought of losing the job was terrifying enough, but the idea that they might literally silence her chilled her to the bone.
Even the aegis couldn’t steady her; the mere possibility of such an outcome made her stumble over her words.
“It’s the best job I’ve ever had.” This, at least, wasn’t a lie.
Fran nodded as though expecting the answer. “MODA believes in taking care of their employees. Not many employers would be
so generous to support your work as an author. We’ve helped you find an agent and a publicist. And I dare say you wouldn’t
have won the National Book Award without that help.”
“I owe a lot to you, I do,” Aida agreed. “Please believe me, I don’t take it for granted.”
Fran looked out the window, clicking her red nails against the armrest. Aida desperately wanted to fill the silence, but she
didn’t dare. They drove in silence for a few minutes, until Castel Sant’Angelo could be seen in the distance.
“I believe you, Aida,” Fran said. “But the next time Trista sends a report showing a disregard for the rules we set forth . . .”
She paused, allowing the unspoken consequence to linger, though not as sharply. “Let’s just say it will reflect poorly on