Chapter 14
Daisy Peonia Mary Parker
Silver River, South Mississippi, USA
It was one o'clock in the afternoon when Oliver left to pick up my Aunt Lizzie, leaving me alone to close up.
Slowly, feeling trapped like a fly caught in a spider's web, I looked to my left and cursed inwardly.
Oliver was so nervous about being Aunt Lizzie's date that when he left, he didn't even notice that the stranger from that morning was still in the diner.
To make matters worse, Mr. Arnold had already left too, which meant it was just the two of us.
The menacing guy and I.
With wobbly legs and my insides turned into water, I took a deep breath, pushed my nerves aside, and forced myself to smile. I walked over to him, who had been facing me for the last half hour, inspecting me without any restraint.
“Hello again, sugar! I’m sorry, but we're closing early today. If you could—”
“Is it customary to call all the men who come here ‘sugar’?” My eyebrows rose at the sound of that question. Damn foreigners. “It means sweetie, right?”
I cleared my throat, forcing a new smile, this time a nervous one.
“Yes, but it's just a southern term of endearment! Everyone uses it.” I explained, crossing my arms behind my back so I wouldn't flip him off and tell him to fuck off.
He laughed with obvious contempt.
“I guess what they say about American women is true.”
I made no further effort to keep smiling. In fact, I let the bitterness show completely on my face. “And that is?” I demanded to know.
“Dumb and... easy.”
Oh, hell no!
Before common sense and Oliver's lessons could advise me, my hand collided with the man's face, knocking off his trendy sunglasses and revealing his wide, stunned eyes.
“Get out.” I ordered, watching him turn his face to me very slowly and bring a hand to his cheek, to the spot where I just hit him. “Get the fuck out of the restaurant.”
The man didn't respond, and I felt the courage slowly drain from my chest, leaving room for common sense to tell me that I made a big mistake. Since it was too late for regrets, I swallowed hard and straightened, tilting my chin up.
“I said get out!” I yelled.
When he stood up and the difference in height became extremely obvious, fear made me back away until I bumped my butt against the nearest table. The man advanced toward me, slow as any predator, and only stopped when he was close enough for me to smell his sweet, alcoholic scent.
If he didn’t look like a demon at that moment, I might have admitted that he smelled extremely good.
“What's your name?”
The question surprised me, and I had to lift my head high to face him. His light green eyes were fixed on me, alert like those of a cat staring at a helpless mouse.
I swallowed hard.
“D-Daisy.” I stammered.
“I know that.” He grunted. “I mean the rest of your name.”
I filled my lungs with air. Something told me I wasn't going to survive this.
“Daisy Peonia Mary Parker.” I blurted out, feeling my cheeks burn and realizing I had the courage of a cockroach.
“Very well, Signorina Parker.” He took another step forward and his body pressed against mine, forcing me to flatten my hands on the table behind me.
Was he going to wring my neck? He seemed capable of doing such a thing.
“My name is Camillo Vicari, and I need you to understand something very simple...” He purred, lowering his face until his breath brushed my ear, making me shiver.
“If you raise your hand, you have to be prepared to take the other.” I swallowed hard.
“Don't think just because you're a woman, I wouldn't hurt you.
Believe me, I have no problem destroying that pretty little face of yours.
But there's something you can give me to remedy this situation...”
Again, hell, no!
I shoved him with all my strength, managing to push him back a little more than a step.
“I'll rip that micro dick off before you can lay a finger on me, you pig!” I spat, poking his chest with my index finger.
For some reason, he looked offended.
“As if I want anything to do with a skinny American girl!”
I opened my mouth to complain, still with my index finger pointed in front of his chest, but then arched my brows, realizing the twists and turns life takes. I had been the fat girl in high school, they even called me piggy, but now here I was. At twenty-nine, being offended for being ‘skinny’.
“Is that supposed to be an insult?” I asked with an inappropriate pang of vanity, momentarily forgetting the situation I had gotten myself into.
The man snorted.
“Bones are for vultures,” he spat. I wanted to tell him to go to hell. In fact, I prepared to do so, but he didn't give me time. “What I want from you, Daisy, is information.”
I blinked, lowering my index finger.
“I want you to tell me what kind of relationship you have with Senator Jones,” he continued.
I studied the man's face for a moment. Light green eyes, frightening, hungry, like a wolf on the hunt, yet as magnificent as any jewel.
Angular lines accentuating his masculine features, molding a sharp jaw covered with dark stubble.
And an upturned nose giving him an undeniable, almost boyish, charm.
Damn, he was attractive. His black, wavy hair was neatly combed back, his clothes seemed to fit his broad body perfectly …
That's when my brain finally processed it.
His appearance. His clothes. Those glasses. The secrecy. The posture. The request for information...
“Oh my God... You're an FBI agent, aren't you?”
The man backed away, an unreadable expression on his face, and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Answer my question, Signorina Parker. What is your relationship with Senator Jones?”
I took a deep breath and straightened up.
As far as I could see, the man was not pleased at all to have been discovered.
Now that I thought about it, him being an agent explained the conversation he had with Oliver.
I knew that my boss's past was, so to speak, on the fringes of the law, often involving the feds, although he had never gone into much detail.
No wonder he had been able to identify the stranger.
I decided to cooperate. I didn't feel like spending the rest of my miserable life in jail.
No, sir.
“Senator Jones is my boyfriend's mother,” I explained timidly, suddenly ashamed for thinking that a federal agent wanted to blackmail me in exchange for sex.
The man, Camillo, frowned. “I wasn't informed that the senator had a second child.”
I shook my head. “She doesn't. I was her son's girlfriend... before he died.”
“Hmm...” I looked up at the sound of that grunt, realizing he was watching me closely. “That was twelve years ago.” My God, the man really did some digging. “Why is Senator Jones still after you?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but had to swallow the lump that appeared in my throat whenever I was asked questions like that.
I forced a smile. “Because he died because of me.”
I tried hard not to let the smile slip, because if I did, the tears that now clouded my vision would end up rolling down my cheeks.
Camillo stared at me with an expression I didn't understand, shifting uncomfortably.
He took his hands out of his pockets and crossed his arms over the chest. It was as if he was analyzing the information I had given him, probably comparing it to something he already knew.
“And how did it happen?”
“We had an accident on the train tracks.” Smile, Daisy. Smile. “I couldn't get out in time. He went back to help me. I got out, but he didn't.”
The man's light green eyes changed for a fraction of a second. They softened, becoming almost gentle. I crossed my arms behind my back and clenched my teeth, smiling as best I could.
The past was a place I hated to revisit, but one I was thrown back to on a daily basis.
“It was a tragic accident.” The man purred, and my breathing became shaky, yet I remained in control. The sinister look was back in his eyes. “This conversation never happened, Signorina Parker. Understood?”
“Of course, of course! Classified information!” I managed to say despite how much my chest hurt. “But, if I may ask, Mr. Agent, why is Senator Jones being investigated?”
The man looked at me, his eyes wide open.
“As I said, classified information,” he replied, turning his back and leaving the restaurant as quickly as someone who had seen a ghost.
Finally alone, I rubbed my face with my hands and whimpered. If Oliver knew what I had said and done, he would wring my neck. He repeated to me over the years not to get too involved with clients, not to ask questions, not to take unnecessary risks. But what did I do? I slapped an FBI agent.
Way to go, Daisy. Nice work.