Chapter 8
We land in London just as the sun is setting.
The air hits my face as soon as I get off the jet, and I feel melancholy.
I thought I would be happier to finally make this city my home, but I felt nothing.
I see a limousine pull up in front of us, and I look at my brothers for an answer; they both just shrug their shoulders, not knowing what it’s about.
“Don Henrico sent it so that we could travel with you, but we have orders not to leave you alone!” Francesco says, making me roll my eyes.
“I don’t understand what all the fuss is about; it’s just going to attract more attention!”
“Just in case,” Paolo says with a tone of voice that seems to beg me not to argue. I just nod and get into the limousine accompanied by the four men.
Francesco and Paolo look about thirty, relatively young, but definitely experienced in their field, of which I have no doubt.
I can see from the expression on their faces that they are both constantly on alert as if someone who poses a danger to me could appear at any moment, and the scariest thing is that it might.
“How will this work when school starts?” I ask, pointing at myself and my new security guards. “I don’t want you constantly behind me like a shadow!”
“We were both enrolled at your college, so it doesn’t seem so strange; let’s say we belong to the same circle of friends,” says Francesco, causing Vincenzo to laugh.
“Are you enrolled in the fashion course?” I ask, still a little dumbfounded.
“Yes, the initial idea was for one to sign up on your course and the other on some other course and pretend to be your boyfriend, but Luca didn’t approve!
” I look at them, not knowing what to say, and think that I clearly owe Luca a thank you.
It would be incredibly embarrassing to pretend to be dating my security guard, a security guard I met the last ten hours.
“Where are you staying?”
“In the apartment opposite to yours, so we have access to the whole floor!” Paolo says as if it were nothing.
“If I remember correctly, there was a couple living there just last week!” I mutter quietly, feeling a little confused.
“They moved out this afternoon after it was decided that you needed security.”
“How?” I ask, slightly frightened.
“The Camorra has its own way of dealing with things!” says Francesco before getting out of the car and holding out his hand for me to leave.
When I get out of the car, I feel my phone beep with a message.
I ignore it and get into the elevator, watching Francesco put the access card to our floor into the reader, and I can’t stop thinking about how they managed all this so quickly.
I think about asking Luca, but honestly, I’m afraid of the answer; I don’t know if I’m ready to hear it.
Paolo asks me to wait in the elevator with my brothers while they check the room and take my house key to check the apartment.
Once they’ve checked that we’re safe, I head for my apartment, listening vaguely as they explain to my brothers how they intend to increase the security of the floor so that it’s more difficult to gain access.
I go into my room and immediately take off my shoes, throwing them in the corner, start to undress, and see the gun Luca gave me stuck in my jacket pocket.
I pick it up and feel its weight in my hands, the responsibility of having it; I think of Luca’s words, never to leave it far from me.
With those words, I head to the bathroom, undressing to get into the bath and leaving the gun in the sink, where I can see it and have easy access to it.
I let the hot water wash away my worries and relieve the tension that insists on remaining in my body. I feel a solitary tear run down my cheek, and at this very moment, I feel alone, sad, inadequate…
I awake from my thoughts with the sound of a message, quickly get out of the shower, and put on my pajamas, picking up the gun again and putting it down on my bedside table.
I look at my phone, and there’s a message from my mother asking me to call her when I arrive.
As soon as I hang up the call, I see another unread message; when I read the sender’s name, my body shakes, and I feel anxious. Luca is asking how the trip went.
Of course, he knows I’ve arrived; my new security guards don’t work for me after all. I quickly reply that it went well, and about two minutes later, it starts ringing, and his name flashes on the screen. I think about whether or not I should answer it, even though I have no reason to run away.
“Hello!” I say quietly and a little insecurely.
“Are you home yet?” he asks in that rough voice that I would recognize anywhere. His voice sounds a little more tired than usual but still easily recognizable. I sit on my reading chair and look at London through the huge glass wall of my room.
“I thought you’d be more original; we both know you already know the answer to that question,” I say jokingly, laughing.
“It’s true, Francesco and Paolo told me, but I still want to know if you’re safe from you!”
“I’m safe, Luca; there’s no evidence to suggest otherwise; maybe you should worry more about yourself and less about me; after all, you’re the one in the eye of the hurricane.”
“I told you, I’m completely capable of protecting myself!”
“How did you manage to get both of them into my college class?” I ask, hearing his rough laugh in the background.
“It wasn’t that complicated; we have our own methods.”
“Easier than making one of them my fake boyfriend?” I tease him.
“Much easier! Chiara, I have to go; I have abusiness to attend to. Don’t forget you can call me anytime if you feel you’re in danger, and don’t leave the gun out of reach.”
“I won’t… Good night, Luca!” I hear him take a deep breath on the other end of the line.
“Good night, Chiara!”
I look at the night lights of London and sigh before leaving the room to find the four men chilling on the sofa in the living room, watching soccer.
“Would you like to order some dinner?” I ask, sitting down on the sofa in the middle of my two brothers, and they shrug their shoulders, making me look at them in a clear question mark as to what we should have for dinner.
“I would go for some sushi!” says Vincenzo, making Lorenzo shrug in agreement. I look at the two security guards at the other end of the sofa, and they seem oblivious to our conversation.
“Is sushi okay for you too?” They both look at me with a puzzled and surprised expression, and I raise my eyebrow as a clear gesture of questioning.
“Yes, sushi is great!” says Paolo quietly, making Francesco agree with him.
“What do you say we order some wine and sake? After today, I feel like we all need a little alcohol!” My brothers immediately nod.
I go to the kitchen counter, where the menus of different restaurants are kept.
I pick up the menu of my favorite sushi restaurant and glance at the room.
I see that the television is now on a news channel; I approach it slowly and see that it is reporting a shooting in the suburbs of Rome; the anchor says that the incident must be linked to this afternoon’s attack; a shiver runs through my body, and I decide to double the amount of alcohol I was going to order.
Two hours later, I find myself completely drunk, with my head in Lorenzo’s lap, laughing hysterically at something Francesco has said; he and Paolo are the only ones who are even remotely sober, perhaps because of their work.
“Are you telling me that your little sister knocked you out before?” I ask, laughing loudly and making everyone in the room laugh with me.
“She’s been boxing since she learned how to walk, and I was drunk that day!”
“That’s no excuse for a Camorra soldier,” says Paolo while laughing.
“I’m telling you, the girl can fight!” says bitterly, making me laugh even more.
“What’s the most dangerous or worst thing you’ve done for the Camorra?” I ask, stopping their laugh and making them stare at me. I wave my hand for them to speak.
“For me, I think it was a mission; I entered enemy territory to eliminate someone. There were more Russian soldiers there than we had planned, and it was a real bloodbath; I was shot twice, once in the abdomen and once in the arm, but what matters is that we managed to accomplish the mission,” Francesco reveals without really thinking about it.
“What do you mean what matters is completing the mission? You were injured!” I get up from my brother’s lap and sit down on the sofa, facing him.
“My family has been part of the Camorra since my great-grandfather. They saved his life, andhe swore loyalty to his capo, just as my grandfather and father did after him. When I was fourteen, I had no doubt that I would be as loyal a soldier as they were; I was born in their blood, Chiara; this is the life I know and chose; I will die in the same blood for the Camorra.” He says, a little disconcerted by his confession.
I take a big sip of my wine, then I look at Paolo and gesture to him that it’s his turn.
“My father is the Camorra’s chief executor, and they work like royalty.
The ranks pass from father to son. When I was fifteen, my father decided it was time to prepare me for this position; even though I had been working for the Camorra for a year, I had never tortured anyone.
That day, my father called me into the torture warehouse and told me that the man was a traitor; it was the first time I tortured someone.
I threw up when I finished, but from that day on, I never stopped, and just like my father, I became an executioner. ”
“If you’re an executioner, why have you been assigned to my security?” I ask, really confused, and drink more wine, which is clearly going to make me even more confused.