In the past week, I had to make numerous visits to the Commission members. They became aware of our drugs being stolen and the men who lost their lives. Franco has appeared quite tense lately, and I’ve taken on his responsibilities to ease his burden.
After all, this is my game to play. The true identity of the killer is known only to me, which is precisely how I want it.
Last night, I was assaulted by the Red Sisters in my apartment. Luckily, Rosa was at our father’s house, as she missed Angelina. Engaging in a skirmish with them, I enjoyed scratching them, and through our discussions, they seemed to yield slightly to my will. I dug and discovered that Salvatore was holding their children captive to maintain control. I proposed rescuing the children and, in return, they would owe me a favor. Once freed, they could regain their liberty.
Tonight, we will convene and see what choices they make. If they refuse, I can resort to coercion, kidnapping their children just as Salvatore did. However, I refuse to stoop to that level, so they had better choose wisely.
Today, the brisk wind reminds me that August is over, and September is ushering in autumn. I zip up my jacket and lock the car. I find myself in front of the building where Paolo manages the loan company. If you’re wondering why I’m here, it’s no secret that Amara has started working here since the ceremony.
It’s almost lunchtime, and though I planned to have lunch with her, I can’t take her somewhere private. I decide to join their lunch instead – good enough. Since that night we locked eyes, she has been avoiding me, and my attempts to communicate via text have been met with vagueness. Something must be amiss, and today, I am determined to find out.
Paolo spots me and pulls me into his office. I glance at Amara, who is engrossed in conversation with a client on the couches. She is dressed more elegantly, and I assume Paolo is behind the change.
While I appreciated her leather attire, this classic style suits her just fine. Unfortunately, a male client under 40 repeatedly glances at her chest as she bends over to retrieve papers, two buttons on her blouse left open, creating a V neckline, with her cleavage visible from above. Damn him!
Apart the open space with two couches, I spot two offices with large windows. Paolo opens the door to the left one. “Good to see you, Damiano,” he says as he takes a seat, with his desk between us.
“Same here,” I respond, glancing around his office. He inquires about my unexpected visit with all that’s been happening. I look at him and abandon my survey.
“Things are settling; the commission gave me time to catch the culprits. Might as well relax for once in a week,” I explain, leaning back in my chair.
“You could have rested at home. Tell me the real reason,” he challenges, crossing his arms and looking at me suspiciously.
“Sharp senses, as always. Good. “I continue , “I have to oversee the recruits, see if they fit in well. So I can reward or punish Nicholas and Fiero,” I smirk, and he laughs briefly.
Though not my primary reason, it is still true. Franco asked me about their progress, and I have to visit the recruits to avoid being labeled a liar by other capos if he were to inquire.
“Well, I have good news. Terry and Amara excel with clients, and Emilio is effective in tracking down those who don’t repay. I am satisfied with their performances,” Paolo informs me, glancing through the glass window at Amara, who is escorting the client out.
“That’s great. How are the numbers?” I ask, looking at the papers on his desk.
“What do you think? We almost doubled it up. Told you the two of them are pretty valuable,” he smirks, handing me some papers.
“Marco came today too. He was excited about the results so far,” Paolo adds, giving me a brief summary of the day.
Irritation replaces my earlier relaxed state. How dare he come where Amara is? I’m sure that old hag didn’t just come to Paolo; I wonder what else he did.
“Did he have work related to you?” I ask, my eyes fixed on Marco.
Paolo thinks for a moment. “He came for no apparent reason. I thought you did the same. And you know me, I don’t want to be interrupted when I work. Work is work; visits are visits,” he frowns.
“So he just came by and left?” I frown a little, observing the man in front of me. “He talked to Amara in the other office; I couldn’t hear what about. Though it seemed that Amara was affected by it. Marco should stop recruiting my men. Damn him,” Paolo complains, again narrating how Marco took some of his good men.
I know the story too well, but this time, I think he is mistaken. Marco doesn’t only want to recruit Amara; he wants to seduce her, which annoys me and makes me want to eliminate him.
If Amara doesn’t plan to kill him, I will do it for her sake and mine. I don’t know how much restraint I will have when it comes to him. “Amara will stay here. I will have a talk with him,” I declare, and Paolo smirks, pleased with my decision.
“Aren’t you a great boss? Sometimes I wonder how Marco made you… Excuse me a second,” he says, glancing at me as he answers a phone call.
“No problem,” I reply, turning on my chair and looking at Amara, who is interacting with a client on the couches. She seems so gentle, talking and patting the old woman. It’s a far cry from her killer side. Although I prefer her real self, this softer side is just as pleasant to watch.
Sometimes I sense that she might not be entirely faking all her facets. Given that she came to seek revenge for her father, not necessarily because she enjoyed killing like most of our men, she might still retain some humanity.This fact both intrigues me and deepens my yearning to shield that last flicker of her white core.
Paolo ends the call and strides in front of me. “Are you leaving?”
“No. I plan to buy lunch. Order or restaurant?” I pull out my phone, and he quickly responds, “Restaurant.” I chuckle briefly, knowing he would choose this option.
“I will go ask the others ,” I say, leaving the office. My steps pause in front of the couches. Terry and Amara are looking at me, and I pose the same question I asked Paolo.
“Order.” “Restaurant.” they reply in the same time.
I mentally chuckle as the two exchange glances, frowning. Amara nudges Terry, and I hear her whisper that she doesn’t want to go to a restaurant.
“Terry, you can go with Paolo and the lady,” I glance at the woman working in the other office. “I will order for me and Amara.”
Amara looks to Terry for help, but he is too excited about eating sushi to notice her silent plea for assistance. Paolo takes the two and leaves the building with one of my credit cards.
I sit on the same couch as Amara and hand her my phone. She looks confused. “Choose what you want.” I watch as she opens my phone.
With an absent look, she glances at me. “You don’t know how to order.” I sigh, taking the phone from her hands as she nods, a small frown forming on her forehead.
“Stop frowning. I will teach you.” She glances at my face, then looks at the phone in my hands.
“You don’t have to.”
“You don’t want to?” I ask, and she holds eye contact with me.
“Maybe I don’t.” Her eyes narrow, and I sense that she is starting to get angry. The reason? I have no idea. I was literally trying to teach her something.
“Why are you getting mad?” I gaze at her with a frown, not intending to look angry; I am just confused. I really want to know why.
“I am not. Order what you want. I will eat it.” She breaks eye contact, and I feel my blood boiling. That was not the plan; I want her to eat what she wants.
“Yes, you are. Now tell me what’s wrong with you.” I turn more towards her, and she crosses her arms, her eyes briefly glancing at me. “I am fine.”
“No, you’re not.” I prop my arm over the couch backrest and hold my head with my hand.
I think this is the first time she is talking with me for real. Her more authentic attitude seems to be slipping through the cracks of her mask more easily. I wonder if she realizes that. Before, I would never have dreamed of arguing with her. But I have to admit; this is fun.
She nibbles on her lips, a dead giveaway that she’s realized she’s deviated from the expected script.Well, no turning back now. I sense she’s a bit on edge today. Let’s add a gentle push.
“Tell me… think of it as a report to your boss,” I smirk, and she gazes at me with an even deeper frown.
I figure I might’ve nudged her a bit too hard with that remark. I’m mindful that she doesn’t really see me, or anyone else, as a boss, except for the front she puts on to roll with the gang.
Caught off guard, I feel pushed to the edge by her serious remark, which touched on a sensitive topic. I wish she knew it, though I sense she does. It’s silly, though, considering I never showed signs of my resentment towards Father. “Marco will be my boss.”
Her eyes are on me, and I can’t quite muster the anger I thought I would. Those lips of hers are pulling my focus, and I’m tempted to give them a little bite as a sign of my disapproval. But, it’s a good thing she spilled the beans.
I can swear on it — a boss named Marco is not something she’ll ever have. “He won’t. Let me tell you something: stay away from him.” My voice lets slip the anger my face is trying to conceal.
She bites her lips and adds, “Why?”
Why is she looking so good doing that …Stop tempting me !
“Because I said so.” I dot the “i,” unable to conjure a better excuse. Her face and neckline are distracting me.
I can’t just blurt out that she’s in danger of getting hurt. Damn, it’s like my brain is on the verge of frying. I get it might seem a bit off from her perspective, but trust needs to be a two-way street.
Amara doesn’t say anything, and I know it’s not because she trusts me – of course, not. I let out a sigh, running my fingers through my hair.
“Damn… Tell me what you want to eat.” I open the phone and scroll through the app, waiting for her to speak up. My voice significantly gentle.
“Pizza…” Her voice, void of emotions, reaches my ears. I despise that tone. I’d prefer her yelling or screaming or whatever. Just not that hollow sound. It feels like it’s eating away at my soul.
I sneak a look at her, and I notice she pulled herself together pretty fast. I couldn’t figure out why she seemed upset. Now that she’s all composed, I can forget about getting under her skin again. That was my shot, and I blew it. Well, I’ll give it another shot tomorrow and the day after.
Sigh… For now, let’s just grab a bite in peace.
We sit in silence, stealing glances at each other every now and then. Her body is tense, and I can tell she’s kicking herself for that earlier outburst, even though, in my eyes, it was far from a full-blown explosion. She was just keeping it a bit more real.
I sense she was particularly frustrated with something related to me. Was it because of that night when I kissed her forehead? Or is she upset about me pushing her to the ground when I jumped on her? She seemed to be in pain after I took that man off her.
Questions about that are doing a marathon in my mind, and damn, finding answers is like trying to catch smoke.
I need her answers, but revisiting that night will only make her feel more exposed. I know she doesn’t like that. Maybe she doesn’t even know I figured out it was her. Do you think she’ll answer if I force my way through uncovering everything?
No. I’ll have to grind my thoughts to death, playing the waiting game until she’s ready to open up.
Guess now I get the bitter part of her.
I can handle it.
