14. Santino
SANTINO
It’s been an entire week of silence from my Ms. Smith.
An. Entire. Fucking. Week.
I’m furious.
There have been no flower deliveries, no messages, nothing, and my mind is racing with possibilities that have the same end result.
Kill whoever was behind those messages. Clearly my instincts were correct when I first got the flowers. Men don’t receive bouquets and I fell all too easily for the game.
I’m wondering who was behind it. What was the point of getting photos and videos of me fucking my own fist? If it got out to the public, all it shows is that I love pleasure and I have nothing to be ashamed about.
If anything, the images, and videos going public would only have my enemies hate me more.
I’m not sure what I’m most upset about. That I won’t get to talk to the person who made me look forward to every notification on my phone or hope I felt when flowers would arrive, or getting the chance to pretend that the one behind the messages was Jovie.
Talking to this person helped me control my want for my son’s ex-girlfriend.
Now, there’s nothing holding me back for going to the flower shop myself and convincing Jovie to be mine—minus the loyalty I have to Luca.
I was patient with the person when it came to their privacy but now that’s all over. I’m done being nice. I’m done being patient. I want to know the person who let me down and betrayed me.
Standing, I walk to the bay windows that overlook my garden, taking in the beauty to try to relax my trigger finger. The familiar buzz can’t be ignored. I’m ready to kill and I’ve killed for a lot less.
The gardener begins to trim roses that I planted in my late wife’s honor.
She loved all flowers, but roses were always one of her favorites.
They’re beautiful this year. The roses are abundant on the bush.
So many have bloomed. My favorite will always be the red ones, a seductive, fierce, powerful color.
A small pang aches my heart when I think of my late wife. She died when the boys were so young, it’s almost as if it was another lifetime ago. A different life. A time where I was a different man—a better man. Not one that is full of bitterness like I am now.
Whoever sent me flowers has a rude awakening coming to them. I’m not usually a man that falls in love easily, yet somehow, these flowers, a gesture so sweet and thoughtful managed to worm its way into my heart along with the texts between me and my unknown friend or foe?
I want more.
This person revived the part of me I thought was dead a long time ago and I want to know who is responsible.
“The hell with it,” I say, pressing the call button for the first time since she stopped messaging me.
I tried to ignore the entire situation and move on, to not waste my time on someone I hadn’t ever met, but a week without anything? No warning, no goodbye, no flowers telling me she was done.
I’m not a man someone can sweep under the rug.
“The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected?—”
I hang up before the automated message can finish. I tighten my grip on the phone, the plastic creaking from the applied force.
I call again.
“The number you are trying to reach has been disconnected?—”
“Fuck!” I roar, throwing my phone across the room.
It smashes against the wall. The screen shatters into a thousand pieces, falling useless and unusable on the floor.
It’s fine.
I open up my drawer and pull out a new phone with the same number. I always have backup devices.
There are too many ways to track down who the person behind the flowers is.
The door slams open, Lorenzo has his gun drawn, aiming it left and right to clear the space only to see me standing behind the desk.
“Mr. Salvati, is everything okay? I heard a noise.”
“It’s fine, Lorezon. I threw my phone against the wall.”
He steps forward, his booted foot landing on the broken pieces and the plastic crunches again. “I see,” he states, stepping to the side. “Is there anything I can help you with, Sir?”
I stroll towards Lorenzo with determination, stopping in front of him. “Yes. I want to find the person who delivered the flowers. You still have the facial recognition software, right?”
“Of course. I’d never get rid of that.” He seems offended I’d even ask.
“I want you to find him. I need to ask him who sent him to deliver the flowers.”
Lorenzo remains silent, a particle of confusion twitching his usual not animated eyebrows. “What for, Sir?”
“I don’t want to share that,” I explain. “I want you to find him.”
“Very well, Sir. May I use your computer? I can find out his identity in five minutes if I can do it from here.”
I stretch an arm out to my desk to lead his way. “Please.”
He is quiet as he walks, his shoes barely making a sound. His fingers don’t touch my desk when he walks around it, unlike myself, I always drag my fingers around the corner. He sits, clicking the keyboard at a higher speed than I thought he could type.
Picking up my broken phone, I place it on the desk. “This phone needs to be wiped and disposed of.” Luckily, I have a cloud that backs up all my photos. I don’t have to lose any pictures of my mystery woman.
“I will do that when I’m done with this, Sir,” he states. “Here is the security feed from when the flowers were delivered. This kid is young. Can’t be more than twenty years old.”
“I don’t care. Find him.”
He nods, running the facial recognition software. “Now, we just wait.”
“I hate waiting.”
He chuckles. “Good things come to those who wait, Mr. Salvati.”
“Biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. I didn’t get to where I am by waiting.”
“I can’t argue that logic.”
“No one can,” I say, the computer beeping every few seconds as tries to find the only connection I have left.
The computer dings and I push Lorenzo out of the way. He rolls a few feet away, the wall stopping him from going any further.
“Anthony Marquet. Twenty-one years old.” I smile when I see his current job. “He has his own business to make anonymous deliveries. His address is right downtown. Call Sam. Get the car ready.”
Lorenzo pushes out of the chair, dialing Sam’s number immediately. “The car will be ready in five minutes.”
Sliding another drawer out from the desk, I pick up my gun and tuck it in the waistband of my pants, taking one last look at the red roses before turning my back on the past to try to figure out my future.
Not waiting for Lorenzo, I hurry out of my office, down the hallway, and out the front door where Sam is already waiting with the door open.
The sun is bright and warm against my face, a beautiful day to threaten someone’s life.
I send Sam a text and his phone dings immediately. “The text you received has the address I want you to take me too.”
“Right away, Mr. Salvati.”
I slide into the back of the car and Lorenzo is somehow already inside, waiting for me.
How did he get in here so quick?
My leg bounces while my thoughts turn, taking over my mind. Fury is making all the decisions from here on out. I’ve given this person too much leeway and now I’ve been walked all over because I had a moment of fucking weakness.
Never again.
The ride to downtown is going by in a blur since my mind is convoluted. We pass Morgan’s Flower Shop and the sign on the door says it’s open. Maybe after my meeting with Anthony, I’ll say hello to Jovie.
She’ll make my day better just by saying hello to me.
People walking on the sidewalks side-eye the car parking in a spot that isn’t meant for parked cars.
But I’m Santino fucking Salvati, and I can park wherever the fuck I want.
Climbing out of the car, a few bystanders gasp and hurry away when they see it’s me.
No one says hi to me. They keep their heads down and they mind their business just like they should.
The apartment building used to be rundown with a slumlord. I bought out all the landlords in the city, renovated every building, brought them to code, lowered the cost of rent, and included utilities in the price.
I wish I could say I only did it out of the kindness of my heart.
The everyday worker nearly kills themselves to get by and I don’t like that.
People deserve a good life. The world isn’t an easy place especially when men like me exist. The renovations worked well in my favor.
Every building I own is full and there are waiting lists that will last years.
Unless Anthony doesn’t cooperate.
Then, I might have another opening soon.
I press the universal key fob for all my building against the scanner and the door unlocks. I toss Sam the keys and he catches them with one hand.
“If anyone asks you, you’re waiting on me.”
“Yes, Mr. Salvati.” He stands tall with his chest out, head up, hands folded in front of me as if he is a soldier following a direct order.
I suppose he is in a way.
I don’t need to double check the apartment number. I have it memorized. He’s on the first floor too.
Apartment three.
I don’t knock.
I kick his door down, the wood splintering off the hinges. I draw my gun, cocking it and find Anthony sitting on his couch, a gaming controller in hand.
He shouts, raising his hands in the air as multiple gunshots sound from the TV.
“What the fuck? Mr. Salvati? Holy shit, I swear to God, I didn’t do it. I haven’t done anything. I promise. I?—”
I press the gun against his temple, his body trembling with fear.
“Your life depends on the information you’re going to give me.”
“I’ll tell you anything. Name it. You won’t get a fight from me.” He swallows, his body frozen where he sits.
“Who paid you to deliver the flowers to me? And don’t bullshit me about not knowing what I’m talking about. I don’t give a fuck to put a bullet in your skull.”
He shakes his head. “Aw man, I knew it. I knew this would come back to me. I told her. I warned her not to do it, but she wouldn’t listen to me.”
I grit my teeth together, applying more pressure to his temple, the barrel leaving an imprint on his skin. “I don’t have time for your rambling. Who the fuck was it?”
“Jovie! Jovie Morgan! She owns the Flower Shop down the street. That’s it. That’s all I know. I don’t know why she sent them.”
I drop the gun, stunned by what he just said. “You’re sure? There’s no fucking way it was her.”
“It was her! She paid me every time. I have invoices to prove it.”
I’m angry at myself for not listening to my instincts sooner. I knew deep down that it was Jovie. She’s a good liar. I’ll give her that. I never thought she would do something like this or be interested in someone older. Was I joke to her?
I hate being played and I hate playing childish games.
“Let your landlord know about your door. I’d hate to fine you again.” I tuck my weapon in my waistband and march out of the apartment.
If Jovie thinks she can get away from me, she clearly has no idea how far I’ll go.
She’ll never be free of me.