Chapter 9 Marco
Marco
Sunlight streams through every window in the apartment. I made sure of that this morning—opened every blind, pulled back every curtain. Let the bright afternoon sun flood the space.
Call it petty revenge for last night's performance.
I've been up since six working through calls and delegating tasks I normally handle in person. Being stuck in this apartment means everything takes twice as long, but I can't leave Elena alone. Not when she's clearly planning something.
It's been eight days since I moved in and she hasn't met with anyone. No secret phone calls. No mysterious trips to seedy bars. Which means either Vito was wrong about her activities—unlikely—or she's getting restless and will make a move soon.
There's no doubt she's hiding something significant.
Rafa confirmed her father is indeed off the grid, but the question remains: why is she going to such lengths to find him?
From what I've heard Rina mention over the years, Elio pops up periodically to check in with Elena. So why is this absence different?
I'm delegating what I can but some things require my personal attention. Tomorrow I'll take Elena with me to see Vito. Get an update on our Irish situation—someone has to be running things now that Kieran is dead but we haven't identified the new leadership yet.
From what I can determine, Elena doesn't have traditional employment. She had that brief stint at RRE but nothing since. Her bills get paid from a trust fund her mother set up when she was born. Bianca added portions of Elio's salary to it over the years. Elena is the sole beneficiary.
When Bianca passed away, Vito was appointed trustee per her wishes. He and Bianca had been friends since childhood—long before she met Elio. That friendship is actually how Elio got his position in the Rosso organization in the first place. Bianca vouched for his skills and intelligence.
Those same skills ultimately led to his exile. Elio's deception ran deep, but Vito could never bring himself to kill the man. He cared too much for Bianca's memory and for Elena's wellbeing. Killing her father would have left Elena completely orphaned. Exile became the compromise.
Vito never told Elena he's the trustee of her trust fund. Bianca specifically requested that Elio never have access to those funds because of his gambling problems. All Elena knows is that her bills get paid monthly. As far as I know, she's never questioned the arrangement.
Movement from the bedroom catches my attention. Elena finally emerges holding her head and groaning dramatically. She's squinting like the daylight is personally offensive to her.
Which it probably is.
I smile to myself. I knew she'd be hungover after last night.
"Afternoon, sunshine," I say with obvious amusement.
She groans again and shuffles to the kitchen for water. Then she collapses onto the couch next to me, resting her head back and covering her eyes with her arm.
"What time is it?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.
"Almost one."
"The room is too loud." She doesn't move the arm from her face.
I actually laugh. "That's what happens when you drink too much. Did you take the aspirin I left on your bedside table?"
She removes her arm and looks at me with surprise. "I didn't see any when I woke up so I must have. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
We sit in silence for a moment. She seems to be gathering the energy to move or speak or exist. Then she sits up and turns toward me, crossing her legs on the couch.
"Can I ask you something?"
I nod for her to continue.
"Why did you come to the bar when you already had one of your guys following me? He would have reported everything to you."
She's looking at me with genuine curiosity. I realize I don't know how to answer this question honestly.
I'm supposed to protect her—it's my job. But that's not really why I went to the bar last night.
The truth is I wanted to watch her outside of this apartment. We've been cooped up together for over a week with tension building between us. She needed a night out and I was happy to observe her in her natural element.
She was so genuinely happy and carefree with her friend.
Her smile could light up an entire room—a shame since most of the smiles I see are teasing smirks designed to provoke me.
The way her hips moved to the music. The slight sheen of sweat that made her skin glow. I wanted to taste every inch of her.
At least until that asshole showed up and ruined my fantasy.
I still haven't answered her question. She's looking at me with a slight frown now. I decide my actual thoughts should stay private. She doesn't need to know why I was really there.
"Only I can do the job correctly," I say flatly.
She closes her eyes and sighs. I wonder if she was expecting a different answer. But this is the safest response if I want to continue doing my job effectively. Feelings cause mistakes and I can't afford to make mistakes. Vito and the family depend on me to be the best at what I do.
She finally opens her eyes and stands. Turns to face me with an expression I can't quite read.
"So I'm just a job then?"
"Yes." I answer without hesitation and watch something shift in her eyes. Sadness maybe. Or perhaps the realization that whatever this tension is between us can never lead anywhere.
She walks away without another word. I hear her bedroom door close.
The sound echoes through the apartment and I'm left wondering why telling her the truth feels so much like lying.