13. Acts of Service
Acts of Service
“Papi?” I called out, shaking off my coat and hanging it on the polished oak rack in the foyer. When I was met with only silence, I sauntered along the corridor, checking the living room, the kitchen, and finally slowing when I heard deep Italian voices from behind his office door.
“No! I will not stand for it. I want to know who is responsible for this mess. This has cost us our only leverage! Who the hell authorised Simone’s protection to be moved to Naples when he was in a perfectly secure safe house here in Rome? Get his lawyer on the line. Now.”
I hesitated, lowering my hand from knocking on the door. It took a lot for my papi to lose his temper like that, so this must have been serious. Instead of making the sensible choice to leave and come back later, I pressed myself against the door, listening in.
A calmer voice tried to reason with him. “As I’ve said, Mayor Caruso, I’ve already spoken to his lawyer. He claimed that the case had to be reassigned to a judge in Naples, who demanded that Simone be placed under witness protection in their city. It was meant to be an extra layer of safety.”
A dark laugh echoed through the room from a third man. “Safety? Is that why our only reliable witness is lying in a coma at a Naples hospital?”
I shifted just enough to peer through the narrow crack in the door to see the side profile of Callum.
He was glaring at the police commissioner, who was sitting stiffly beside him.
My father was standing behind his desk with one hand on his hip, the other scrubbing frustrated circles around his jaw.
All three men looked as if they’d aged ten years in the last few minutes.
“Naples authorities are investigating the crash,” the commissioner continued. “They’ll determine if foul play was involved or if it was merely a terrible accident. But since it happened outside our jurisdiction, there is nothing my office can—”
My father scoffed. “Of course, there was foul play! This whole thing was orchestrated, can’t you see?
I bet it was the lawyer. Somehow, they got to him and forced him to request that the case be reassigned to Naples, giving them a window to strike.
As soon as Simone crossed into another city, they knew we’d lose control. ”
“Mayor Caruso, Simone’s lawyer’s identity was known only by me, Simone, Judge Rindilio, and your office. It’s doubtful that anyone could have found that information in such a short time. Unless there is substantial evidence linking Signor Buccini to this—”
“We just lost our only evidence!” my father roared, slamming his fist on his desk. I leapt back from the door at his sudden rage because I’d rarely ever seen him this upset. He was normally so composed.
Simone… witness… Buccinis. My mind scrambled to piece it together. Simone must have been the crucial witness willing to testify against the Buccinis about the shipment raids.
The commissioner rose from his chair, his face tight. “I understand your frustration, Mayor Caruso. I’ll keep you informed on the investigation into the crash from Naples.”
Sensing I was about to be caught eavesdropping, I hurried to the dining room and ducked inside until I heard heavy footsteps pass by.
I had come here with every intention of confessing everything that had happened between me and Santino Buccini over the past week (well, most of it), but clearly, the universe had decided today was not the day for revealing my darkest sins.
The office door burst open, and both men strode out, forcing me back into the dining room like a naughty child hiding past her bedtime.
Just walk out there and behave normally, Aria.
“Don’t stress,” Callum murmured as they walked down the corridor. “Let’s focus on what we can control. Putting pressure where it matters. Once the injunction is approved, we can freeze their accounts.”
“I am stressed. You said this would be enough. I went public and put my own and my daughter’s life at risk for this, and he’s still walking free. Until Santino Buccini is dealt with, my daughter isn’t safe. You promised me nothing would happen to her.”
“And nothing will. It’s under control.”
“He showed up at the hospital after the fundraiser. He’s been driving that damn motorcycle past her apartment block every morning! Don’t tell me it’s under control.”
I’m sorry… what? He’s been doing what?
“He’s trying to provoke you, Piero,” Callum said. “Ignore him. He won’t touch her. It’s all a bluff to weaken you.”
I swallowed, twisting my hands together and stepping back, straight into my father’s drinks cabinet. The glass bottles rattled, and in a miraculous reflex, I caught one before it toppled over.
“Aria?”
I turned slowly to find both men in the doorway staring at me with deep frowns.
“What are you doing in here?”
My mouth dropped open as my brain searched through random survival options. I grabbed the nearest bottle and lifted it. “Oh, I wanted to know if I could borrow this?”
My papi’s eyebrows tightened. “My whiskey?”
“Yes. I–uh… drank all mine, and I remembered you said you had a new brand that was really good, so I thought I’d try it.”
“I didn’t know you were a whiskey drinker?” Callum smirked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.
I wasn’t. I hated the stuff. It tasted of burnt forests and ash. “Just acquired the taste recently.”
He nodded. “You should have said. I have an entire cellar of the finest whiskey at my place. Maybe on our next date, I can show you.”
“Hmmm.” My head was bobbing uncontrollably. “Amazing. It’s a date.”
Why? Why was I like this? I needed a life coach.
“Are you working tomorrow night?”
“I–um.” I glanced at my papi, who raised one eyebrow—the universal Italian gesture for I’m judging you right now, but carry on. “No, I’m not.”
“Bravo. I would suggest we go out for dinner, but it might be safer to stay indoors at the moment. So, come round at seven?” I nodded, and he flashed me his perfectly white smile. “See you then, Arianna.”
My father shook Callum’s hand and then walked him to the front door as I sank into a dining room chair and lowered my head onto the table. Great. I had a whiskey date with my potential husband, and I’d have to pretend I enjoyed drinking liquid oak for the rest of my life.
When my father reappeared, I sat up straight and watched as he grabbed two tumblers and placed them on the table in front of me. He poured us both a whiskey with an amused smile playing on his lips.
“There you go, luce mia. Enjoy,” he said, clinking his glass against mine and taking a sip. I tentatively lifted mine and did my best not to wince as the burn hit the back of my throat. I failed horrifically.
Papi chuckled, sitting down beside me as I shook my head and flapped my hands.
“You don’t fool me, piccolina. So if you’re not here to steal my whiskey, what’s the real reason?”
Placing my hands on the table, I looked at him, chewing my bottom lip. “I just wanted to… talk to you.”
He nodded. “About?”
“Santino Buccini.”
His smile dropped immediately. “What’s wrong? Has something happened? Has he threatened you?”
I shook my head, my heart pounding as I looked down at the table.
I wasn’t lying. Santino hadn’t threatened me outright.
But… wasn’t that a na?ve view? His mere presence in my life was a threat.
He was just doing it in a way that would make me seem insane if I told anyone.
And frustratingly, every encounter I’d ever had with him had left me feeling…
confused. As ridiculous as it sounded, he didn’t scare me.
And I couldn’t reconcile the man my father was so fearful of with the same man who was sending me flowers every day or checking if I’d eaten at work.
“Is he really as bad as you say he is? How sure are you that those illegal shipments belonged to him?”
My father’s entire posture tensed, and I realised I’d asked the wrong question. But I had to ask. Wasn’t there a possibility he had got this all wrong?
“Arianna,” my father said in the same voice he used when he was furious but trying to contain it. He reached for my hands, holding them in his. “You need to tell me right now if Santino has been in contact with you.”
I held his gaze, my breathing unsteady as I crumbled under his scrutiny. “A little.”
His jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared. He tilted his head slightly, trying to maintain his composure. “A little? What do you mean, Aria?”
“He’s… been sending me flowers.” That was just the tip of the iceberg, but my father still launched himself out of his chair.
“Flowers? How?”
“At work. Every day.”
“And you’re only telling me this now?” he shouted, pulling his phone out of his pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“Firing Damiano. Why hadn’t he told me about this? What am I paying him for?”
“Papi!” I leapt up and grabbed the phone. I didn’t want anyone to lose their job over this. “It’s not his fault. I…I lied to him. I told him it was a subscription service.”
My father blinked at me. “Why would you do that?”
“Because…” Shit. There really was no way of explaining myself here without looking like I’d lost the complete plot. “I was embarrassed.”
“Embarrassed? No, this isn’t about you, luce mia. That man is trying to intimidate you to make me leave him alone.”
I frowned. “With flowers?”
“It’s not the flowers. It’s what they represent. He’s trying to send a message.”
I understood that. I just wasn’t convinced I knew what the message was.
He shook his head, running his hand through his silver hair. “You should have told me immediately.”
“I know,” I mumbled. “I’m sorry, Papi. I haven’t been keeping the flowers. I give them away to the patients.”
He rubbed his hands down his face, and I felt so guilty seeing how much stress he was under. I hadn’t even told him half of it. I wasn’t sure he’d survive if I did.
“Is he really someone I should fear?”