Page 93 of The Right Garza
I blink.What the hell?“Um, size six for clothes and seven and a half for shoes.”
As he lifts the phone to his ear, he looks me over like I’m lying or something.
Seconds later, “Hi, Wendy” … “Yes, I am well. Listen, I need about five outfits. Dress, six. Shoe, seven and a half. Expect Kate to pick them up in about an hour or so.” … “Yes. Both.” … “Those, too, sure.” … “Right. Send me the invoice.”
He ends the call, sets the phone aside, then open his takeout container and ignores me as he begins eating.
Did he really just commission clothes for me over the phone? Whoarethese people?
~
Three days havepassed.
Three days of no Trent, no Mama, no Maggie, but a heck of a lot of Stefano Castello.
Trent calls every day and asks to speak to me but Stefano never lets him. I can’t imagine how pissed my favorite asshole must be at being told what to do.
Stefano makes me put on makeup and dress up in classy, expensive outfits every day, leaving me one mink coat short of feeling like a mob wife.
He takes me along with him wherever he goes. And believe me, Stefano Castello is a busy man. Averybusy man. He gave me a crash course on how to write meeting minutes and put me in charge of that.
I’ve sat in on so many meetings I’ve lost count, and I’d be lucky to come out of this without carpal tunnel. Yesterday he met for ninety minutes with the mayor. Yes, the freakingmayor. Though I can’t tell what was discussed because he gave me noise cancellation headphones for that one and wrote the minutes himself.
The man never seems to tire. On the rare occasions that he does, however, he would take me home with him to his mansion in Summerlin and sleep for two to three hours, never more, before we’re back at Black Gold. It’s as though he’s afraid that if he’s asleep for too long everything will crumble without his governance. I spend so much time sleeping on the long couch in his office that he’s since stationed a blanket and a pillow there for me.
At least I’m not on a lumpy cot in some dank, dark room. Being a quasi-free hostage is the single most strange experience of my life.
After much observation, I’ve concluded that with Stefano Castello, what you see is not at all what you get. He’s the kind of man who will tell you a joke to get you to smile and relax right before he plunges a knife into your heart.
The man has around fifty different personalities and I’ve yet to figure out which one is the real him. Every individual who walks through his office door gets their own personalized version of him. He shows people what he wants them to see.
I’ve spent less time around Lorenzo. Stefano’s ploy to keep me out of his reach has proven to be successful, as Lorenzo is never in my presence for more than five minutes before Stefano is sweeping me away. Much to Lorenzo’s glaring frustration.
But although I haven’t spent as much time with Lorenzo as I have with Stefano, it’s enough for me to deduce that with Lorenzo Castello, what you seeiswhat you get. He’s too impatient to bullshit. Too authentic to hide. He’s the type to lay it all out to let you know where he stands.
The two men might be identical in appearance, but that’s where their similarities end.
I’ve entertained the idea of escaping many times but have never bothered to exert myself trying. Even if I did make it out the buildings, I wouldn’t make it out of Vegas. If there’s one thing I’ve come to understand it’s that this city belongs to the Castellos, and no one would risk their life to help me.
I’ve come to terms with the possibility of this entire ordeal ending in death. I have so much time to be quiet, unseen, and unheard, and thus, a lot of time to think.
Once again, I ask myself, if given the chance, would I have chosen a different path than the one I did years ago when I set out to do whatever it took to support Mama?
Even with the grisly predicament I am in right now, the answer is stillno.
The choices I made allowed me to help her win against that treacherous, soul-sucking disease called cancer, then set her up with her own business to revive her spirit and purpose after she kicked its ass.
So even if some of those choices I made will result in a shorter life for me, the fact that Mama will get to live out hers with a mortgage-free home and a successful business is all that matters. Maybethatwas my only purpose on earth, and I fulfilled it. Mama will go on without me, but the Mendez family are aplenty.
What does fill my heart with unbearable sadness when I think about leaving this earth, however, is that Trent would never know the truth. He would never know that in just nine weeks, I toppled madly in love with him without even realizing it. And that I died regretting choosing the wrong brother.
We’d never get a chance to see what we could’ve been together, what magic we’d create.
“He will find her.”
Snapped from my depressive reveries, I glance up from my lap to meet Stefano’s gaze across the office. I’m so zoned out that I don’t even realize his meeting has ended. The two business associates dressed in Brioni suits have left. I’m for sure going to mess up this meeting’s minutes.
Stefano watches me from behind his desk, tapping his pen on the open folder in front of him.
