6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Donna
Alessio shifts in his chair and looks down at his hands for a moment before answering.
“I went with my cousins.”
“All of them?”
“My brother, Edoardo, and my cousins, Matteo, Tomasso, and Dante.”
I write the names down.
“Was it planned?”
“We go there often.”
“That tells me it was regular, but was it planned?”
“No, we decided on the spur of the moment.”
“Who suggested it?”
His jaw clenches slightly.
“I don’t remember.”
“Think about it.”
He looks toward Lorenzo, then Julian, as though one of them might suddenly remember.
Alessio leans back and stares toward the ceiling.
“We were all at the house. Someone said we should go out.”
“Who?”
“Tomasso, maybe. It could have been Matteo.”
“You’re guessing.”
“Yes.”
“That’s fine. Just tell me when you’re guessing.”
He gives me a short nod.
“Did anyone outside the house know where you were going?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you post anything?”
“No.”
“Did any of your cousins?”
“I didn’t check.”
I glance at Lorenzo. “I’ll need to know.”
“I’ll find out,” he says.
His tone is even, but there is something behind it that makes me believe every cousin in that house will be answering questions before the day is over.
I return my attention to Alessio.
“What time did you arrive?”
He sighs. “I’m not sure.”
Lorenzo looks at him. “You arrived at the hotel shortly after 10:00.”
“The club was before that,” Alessio says.
I stop writing.
“Think. What time did you get to the club?”
“Around 8:30. Maybe closer to 9:00.”
“And how long were you there before you met Genevieve?”
“Not long.” He realizes he's being vague again and says, “Twenty minutes. Half an hour?”
“Where was she?”
“At the bar.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you notice her first, or did she notice you?”
His gaze drops to the legal pad in my hand.
“She noticed me.”
I feel Lorenzo’s attention sharpen.
I keep my voice neutral. “How do you know?”
“She was looking at me.”
“That happen often?”
One corner of his mouth lifts, though it disappears quickly.
“Yes.”
At least he is honest.
“What happened next?”
“I went over.”
“So you approached her.”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“I don’t remember exactly.”
“Try.”
He rubs a hand over his jaw. “I asked if she was waiting for someone.”
“And? Was she?”
“She said she wasn’t anymore.”
“That’s what she said? Anymore?” I clarify.
“Yes.”
“How did she say it?”
Alessio frowns. “What do you mean?”
“Was she flirtatious? Nervous? Shy?”
“She was flirting.”
I make a couple of notes, but I don't take my eyes off him.
“How much had you had to drink by then?”
“One drink.”
“All night, including before you got there.”
He leans back. “I had a whiskey at the club and a Negroni before we left.”
“What about the rest of the night?”
“I ordered another whiskey when I started talking to her because I ordered her another martini as well.” He anticipates my next question. “I don't know how much she had before that. She had a martini when I walked up, but she didn’t seem drunk.”
He looks at his father. “I wouldn't have taken some stranger home if she was falling all over drunk.”
His father simply nods. I'm inclined to believe him as well. He seems earnest.
Then again, I can't forget who it is I'm speaking to here.
“What did you talk about?” I ask. “Before you left, I mean. At the club.”
“Nothing important.”
“That is usually where important things hide.”
His fingers tap once against his knee.
“She asked about Chicago. The club. What I did.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That I worked for my family.”
“Did she ask about your family?”
“Only when I said that I worked with them.”
I look up. “Did she know your last name?”
“I told her my name when I sat down,” he says. “You really think she targeted me? She died.”
“Someone targeted you,” I say. “I'm trying to figure out whether she was a part of it or not.”
His expression tells me he’s going to defend her.
“She could have been used too,” I continue before he can. “She could have approached you for one reason and ended up dead for another. Or she could have known exactly who you were and still had no idea what someone else intended to do.”
Alessio looks down at his hands.
“So you think she was bait.”
“I think it is one possibility.”
Lorenzo’s attention stays on me. “And the others?”
“That she chose him for reasons of her own, and someone took advantage of it.”
Alessio’s jaw clenches. “She was a person.”
“I know.”
“You’re talking about her like she was part of a plan.”
“She was.” I keep my voice steady and even in contrast to his emotions. “Whether she knew it or not, she was part of a plan.”
Alessio studies me for a moment and then nods.
“When you told her your name, how did she react?”
“She smiled.”
“Surprised?”
“No.”
“Interested?”
He hesitates. “Not in my name specifically, but in me.”
“Did she give any indication that she recognized it?”
“No.”
Write a few notes down and then shift the conversation a little bit.
“When she asked about your work, what did you tell her specifically?”
He looks at his father for a moment and waits for a nod before speaking. “I told her I work security for my family's company. I figured she wouldn't ask too many questions.”
“Did she?” I ask.
“Not really.” His expression changes like he just remembered something. “She asked if I was working in the morning.”
“What did you say?”
“That I had to be up early.”
“Did you give any specifics?”
“No. I just told her I had work.”
“Did you tell her what time?”
He hesitates. “Yes. I told her I worked at 8:00.”
I jot it down. Alessio watches me do it.
“It came up,” he says, a bit defensively. “She was just asking if I could stay with her.”
“Was she?”
He leans forward. “You weren’t there.”
“No. Which is why I’m asking.”
Julian shifts behind his desk but says nothing.
Lorenzo’s gaze remains on his son.
“What else did she ask?” I say.
“Nothing unusual.”
“That question was unusual. You didn’t recognize it because you liked her.”
His face hardens. “I did like her.”
“I know.”
“You don’t sound like it.”
I press my pen against the notepad in my lap and look up at him.
“Your father hired me because he needed someone on your side. Someone who can look at this the way the police will be looking at it. If it sounds like I'm being cold, it's because I have to remain objective.”
“You’re implying that Genevieve targeted me.”
I can feel that Lorenzo wants to speak, but I do before he can. “I'm trying to get the facts here. One of those facts is that you are young, and handsome, and rich. That makes you a prime target for women.
“Some of them will want you for yourself. Some will want access to your family, your money, or your name. Pretending otherwise would make me bad at my job.”
Alessio’s expression tightens, but he does not interrupt.
“That does not mean Genevieve was using you,” I continue. “It means I have to consider the possibility.”
He looks away for a moment, then back at me.
“She didn’t ask me for anything.”
“People rarely start by asking.”
Lorenzo shifts in his chair. “Donna.”
I give him a look.
He doesn’t continue.
Alessio exhales through his nose. “Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Whether she showed more interest in you after she learned who you were.”
“She was interested before that.”
“Did anything change?”
He thinks about it.
“No.”
“Did she ask where you lived?”
“No.”
“Who you lived with?”
“No.”
“Whether you had security?”
His gaze sharpens.
“No.”
“Did she ask how early you had to leave?”
“Yes.”
“Was anyone paying too much attention to you guys?”
He leans back and thinks.
“My security would have noticed that.”
“It was a busy club,” I point out.
“Yeah. And loud,” he says. “We could barely hear each other.”
I ask a few more questions about their time at the bar and jot down his answers.
“What time did you guys leave?”
“I'm not sure exactly.” He looks at his father.
Lorenzo responds. “I'll get you a list of all the times from security. When they left the house, when they got to the club, when everyone left and got back home.”
I nod and turn back to Alessio. “Whose idea was it to leave?”
“Both of ours.”
His voice is firm now.
No embarrassment. No apology. He is not trying to make himself look better than he was.
That helps.
“Whose idea was the hotel?”
“Hers.”
Lorenzo leans forward slightly.
“You never said that.”
Alessio looks at him. “You didn’t ask.”
I ignore the shift between them.
I already know the answer to this, but I ask anyway. “Did she already have a room?”
“No.”
“Who rented the room?”
“I did.”
“Under your real name?”
He hesitates again. “Yes.”
His father curses in Italian.
“She already knew my name, Pop. What was I supposed to do? She would ask questions if I used a fake one.”
I continue before their argument escalates.
“Did you tell your cousins?”
“I told Edoardo.”
“What did he say?”
“That I had duty in the morning,” he says deadpan.
Lorenzo closes his eyes briefly.
I almost smile, but this is not the moment.
I walk him through more questions from the ride to the hotel, to checking in, all the way up to the room. The questions are exhaustive, and I know they are, but they're also necessary. I need every single detail.
“What happened after?”
He looks at me, then Julian, then his father.
“We had sex.”
“More than once?”
His brows lift.
Lorenzo’s expression does not change, though I suspect he would prefer to be anywhere else.
“Yes.”
“How long were you in the room?”
“Maybe two hours.”
“Maybe?” I lift my brows.
“Like I said, we were there shortly after 10:00, and I left shortly after midnight,” he says.
“What did she say when you told her you had to go?”
“She wanted me to stay.”
“How did she react when you refused?”
He looks at his father again before answering. “She tried to… persuade me to stay.”
“How?”
He looks up at the ceiling.
“Dio mio,” he mutters under his breath.
Lorenzo shifts in his chair, and Alessio drags a hand over his face before answering.
“She tried to seduce me back into bed.” He clears his throat. “Kissed me, pressed her body against me…”
“Was she upset or angry when you said no?”
“No. Disappointed, maybe, but not angry.”
“Did she try to stop you physically?”
“Only…,” he gestures with his hand to his previous words. “She let go when I told her we could meet up the next day.”
I set my pen down again and look at him for this next set of questions.
“Was Genevieve alive when you left?”
His face closes immediately.
“Yes,” he says tightly.
“What was she doing?”
“She was standing by the bed. She was putting her dress back on.”
“What color was her dress?”
“Red,” he answers automatically.
Red is usually a color people wear to be noticed. I keep that to myself for now.
“Was she injured?”
“No.”
“Upset?”
“No.”
“Afraid?”
“No.”
“Did you help her zip her dress back up?”
He looks thrown by my question.
“Umm, no, actually. I didn’t.” He furrows his brows.
Interesting. According to the report I got my hands on, her dress was zipped up when they found her.
I walk him through the rest of the night, from the time he left the room, down to the lobby, and all the way back to his house, up until the moment the police came knocking at the door.
When I'm done, I gather my notes and slide them into the folder.
“What's the next step?” Lorenzo asks.
“I would like to speak to the cousins who were there that night,” I say. “I want to know what they saw, if anything.”
His gaze meets mine.
“They’ll cooperate.”
I nod and turn to Julian. “You have your part of it, but I'm going to do a deep dive on this Genevieve Sorel and see what I can find.”
Alessio was looking down at his hands. This is a man who has grown up in a very dangerous family, and though he is very young, I don't let that fool me. I know exactly who he is and where he comes from.
But right now, sitting here looking dejected, I can't help but feel for him. He went out for a night of fun, and his whole world changed.
“I thought she liked me,” he says quietly.
The words are quieter than anything he has said since I began.
Lorenzo’s posture changes, though he does not move toward him.
I keep my voice level. “She may have.”
Alessio looks at me. “People can want more than one thing at the same time.”
“I might be wrong.”
I'm not, and I think everyone in this room knows it, but he seems to need a little more time to take that fact in.