Chapter Sixteen #3
Valerio and Ravenna walked together in silence down Via dei Tribunali.
Valerio was moved by the awkward teenager and her dead boyfriend.
Natale exhibited the same type of reckless bravado that Gaetano had shown: a childish aggressiveness that must be a sort of barometer for the everyday terror they lived with.
As if to convince themselves that they could survive a world where they were so out of their depth.
Their desperate powerlessness felt horribly akin to his own, and he understood the need to lash out, to insist that he could solve this, that he could survive it.
Ravenna broke the silence: “What the hell kind of parties were they?”
—
They stopped at a café to duck out of the rain that had started during the interview.
Taking an empty table by the window, they ordered espressos and Valerio went to the toilet. On his way back, he stopped by the counter to buy a sfogliatella.
At the table, Ravenna was looking at her phone.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ve found Alta Visione Talenti. Address in Rome.”
She passed over her phone and Valerio flicked through the various pictures of beautiful young women, displayed like items on a menu.
Each had smooth skin and parted lips, eyes seducing the camera.
He was reminded, uncomfortably, of a photo some shithead had taken of his teenage daughter a few months ago.
One picture made him pause. He zoomed in, and examined the features before deciding he was right.
“I know her,” he said slowly.
It was Maria. Raw vegan Maria.
“How do you know her?”
He opened his mouth to say—but was suddenly reluctant to talk about it.
“I went on a date with her,” he admitted.
Ravenna’s eyebrows raised. She took the phone back and examined the picture.
“She’s very beautiful.”
“She wasn’t what I thought,” he said. “She was looking for…a sugar daddy.”
“Oh dear,” said Ravenna. “And you didn’t want a sugar baby?”
Valerio blew out through his teeth. The coffees arrived, granting a brief reprieve. He bit into the crunchy sfogliatella, scattering pastry flakes across the table.
“I wonder if she’s still modeling for Alta Visione Talenti,” Ravenna continued. “Maybe she knows about the parties. Do you think we could talk with her?”
Valerio shook his head. “I’m the last person she wants to hear from.”
“Why?”
He described the dinner with Maria and the way it had ended. Ravenna laughed, her eyes sparkling with sudden merriment.
“You called her a prostitute?”
“She was asking for money!”
“Well,” she said, “you’re right. She won’t want to talk to you again. Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Maybe she hasn’t been able to find another sponsor. She might want to talk to you if she thinks she has another shot at getting you to pay. Send her a text.”
“I can’t,” Valerio protested.
“Sure you can,” said Ravenna. “Unless she’s already blocked you. What’s the worst that can happen?”
Valerio thought for a moment and then messaged Maria: We need to meet.
“Not blocked,” he said.
“What did you write?” Ravenna asked. Valerio showed her his screen. She smiled.
“You really don’t know women, do you?” she said gently. “May I try?”
Valerio surrendered his phone, waiting with a strange anxiety while Ravenna wrote.
She showed him the result: I’ve been an idiot. I met someone beautiful…perfect. A goddess. I should have worshipped her, but instead I judged her, and let her slip away.
At his nod, she pressed Send.
To Valerio’s amazement, only a few seconds passed, and a text bubble appeared.
I’ve been very angry with you, Maria wrote.
Ravenna typed, Punish me. Please. I deserve it.
I should, Maria said. You were a very naughty boy.
What would you do to punish me? To let me prove myself to you? Ravenna wrote.
Another text bubble appeared, then vanished—then appeared again.
Tomorrow night. 7PM. I’ll punish you until you beg.
“There,” said Ravenna, handing back the phone. “You have a date.”
—
Several hours later, Valerio was smiling as he unlocked the door to his building.
He’d taken the kids for dinner before Giorgia picked them up.
Despite his intention to part ways with Ravenna, he’d somehow never gotten around to it, and she’d joined them for dinner.
Gemma and Davide had seemed unexpectedly comfortable with the arrangement, and laughed at her jokes.
He hadn’t wanted to say goodbye. He briefly considered asking her to come home with him before thinking better of it.
Ravenna excused herself, saying she needed an early night for work tomorrow.
—
The attack came without warning: a sudden blow to the back of his head. Valerio staggered, stunned and temporarily sightless, flashes of light and color. Time stalled, and he fought to stay conscious. Battling the encroaching darkness, he scrabbled in his waistband for his weapon.
Then someone was choking him. A face close to his, features distorted, and the pungent stink of cigarettes and garlic.
“You stupid fuck,” growled the man.
Valerio’s fingers reached his gun. Struggling for air, he jammed the barrel into the man’s gut, but his grip wasn’t firm—he hunted for the trigger. The man suddenly released and stepped back.
Valerio saw the heavy black weapon aimed at him.
“Put your gun down,” said the man.
“You first,” wheezed Valerio. “I will blow your fucking head off.”
He considered shooting anyway but he was too shaky and he couldn’t see properly. His head was ringing from the blow, heart racing so hard it hurt his chest. He wasn’t confident he could kill the man before he was killed first.
He took several panting breaths and, in that time, recognized the white hair and intense expression of Luca’s thug Ivan.
“What the fuck do you want?” Valerio demanded.
“You work for us,” said Ivan. “We call. You answer. You do as you’re told.”
“I did what Errichiello wanted,” said Valerio. “We’re finished.”
Ivan’s eyes lit with a manic glare. “You stupid fuck. We’re a long way from finished.”