Page 25 of Always

“Are you tired of me yet?” Marco said. “Because I do have some apartments to see. I’d love it if you came with me.”

“Alright,” Anika said.

They spent the afternoon touring the three apartments Marco was considering. They were all lovely of course—clean and modern with exceptional views of the city.

The first was a bit too far from the Bennet Knight studio for Marco’s taste.

“I want to be there bright and early in the morning,” he said. “I take my responsibilities there very seriously. I don’t want to be a figurehead. I want to expand on what my father has already done, to take Bennet Knight to the next level.”

“I’m sure you’ll make Dominic proud,” Anika said.

Marco’s face was set with resolve.

“For a long time, I didn’t care if he was proud of me,” he admitted. “I lived with my mother in Rome. They married when she was very young. She was a little spoiled, a little wild. My father wanted to come to America for the opportunity; she didn’t want to leave her friends and family in Italy. They separated. My father asked me if I would come with him, but I didn’t want to. I had friends as well. My mother and I lived like free birds, doing whatever we wanted whenever we wanted. But after a time, I found the meals and the parties and the boats and the islands weren’t as satisfying any more.

“I started to look for something more. My father bought the race car, and I thought that would be it, the thing that would bring purpose, and maybe build our relationship as well. But it ended badly. And then he was diagnosed with cirrhosis. It’s quite extreme. He hasn’t told many people, but I don’t know how long he has. So I don’t necessarily have much time, to do what I hope to do. To make him proud, to bring closure to both of us.”

“I’m so sorry,” Anika said, shocked. “I didn’t realize it was so bad. He looked well the other night.”

“He is very strong,” Marco said, “and stubborn. His doctor may be too pessimistic. He doesn’t know my father, after all.” But his expression didn’t match the hopefulness of his words.

“Anyway,” Marco said, calling the listing agent back from the balcony where she’d been hovering to give them space to look around. “Let’s look at the other places closer to the office.”

The second apartment belonged to a cinematographer who travelled often. He wanted to rent it out while he was on location for the next eighteen months. The twenty-foot ceilings and professional-grade kitchen were dazzling, but Marco said he wanted something more permanent than an eighteen-month lease.

“Besides,” he said, “I’m not certain about the decor.”

The apartment came furnished, but almost all the decorative items were in homage to Scarface—presumably the cinematographer’s favorite film.

Framed memorabilia hung on the walls, including a replica of Tony Montana’s gun—which a placard identified as a custom-made M203 grenade launcher attached to a Colt AR-15—and a teal silk gown which, if memory served, had been worn by Michelle Pfeiffer in the film. A large silkscreen over the fireplace proclaimed, “In this country, you gotta make the money first. Then when you get the money, you get the power.” The total effect was intense, to say the least.

Marco grimaced at Anika, who laughed quietly so as not to offend the listing agent.

The agent only sighed. “You’re not the first to say that,” she admitted. “Well, third time’s the charm. You’ll love this last place.”

The third building seemed to have all the amenities one could desire: full concierge service, spa, gym, rooftop pool... The apartment itself was a lovely space, with wall-to-wall windows, exposed beams, and beautifully restored hardwood floors.

“What do you think?” Marco asked Anika. “Would you visit me here?”

“It wouldn’t be far to come,” Anika pointed across the park. “That’s my building over there. The cream-colored stone with the dark glass windows.”

“I can see you from my window?” Marco said.

“Well not really,” Anika demurred. “My room is on the other side.”

“Still,” he said, “I think I’ll take this one.”

Practically rubbing her hands together over the undoubtedly astronomical commission, the listing agent encouraged Marco to sign the lease on the spot.

When they finished, Marco insisted on riding in the cab with Anika back to her building. She was shocked to notice that the sun was setting already. They’d been together almost seven hours. The time had flown by so quickly.

Marco hugged her and thanked her again for her help. She noticed again that almost thrumming energy in his arms, felt the warmth of his cheek against hers. Up close, he was almost too good-looking. It was slightly inhuman how smooth his skin was, how white his teeth and how artful his waves of dark hair.

“I’ll come pick you up on Saturday,” he said.

She had promised to go running with him in the park.

“I’ll see you Saturday,” Anika agreed.

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