Page 22 of Fall
“Yes,” I confirm.
“What happened with the bit about my being too unprofessional?” he scoffs out the question, cocking his head to one side.
“Yeah. That’s fucking gotta stop. But trust and competence are a different story. Itrust your skills. I know you’ll put your own life on the line to keep them safe. That’s why I need you to do this.”
“Of course, man. I’m here to serve. Never had a problem with working for you or the boss.”
“It sounds like there’s more. Is there more?”
“Not really. It’s just… I never thought you had it in you to let her go.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Igrunt out, my anger building.
“Jesus, Antonio,” He mumbles. He drags his chair backward and gets to his feet, crossing the room to the chest of drawers beside the door. “Don’t fucking shoot the messenger. It’s obvious she wants you. And anyone with eyes can tell you got something for her too.”
“We have priorities. None of them include putting Natalia’s or my ass on the line becauseof feelings.”
After reaching into the top drawer and groping around, he withdraws his hand, holding a passport. "Got it. Okay, I'm set. But Antonio, just remember… some things... no, somepeopleare worth the fucking headache.”
“You and I ain’t gonna see eye to eye on the subject, so drop it.”
He clears his throat for effect. “Whatever. It’s your ass.”
“Make sure youwatch yours too,” I warn him. “If you let the boss down while you’re on this assignment, that’s on you.”
“Trust me.” He meets my eyes. “I don’t do messy. I’ve been trained for this shit, remember?”
I nod because I know he does. He lives for this kind of work. “Don’t shit the bed and I’ll believe you.”
“I fucking won’t, all right? Do you want me to choose my protection crewfrom the rest of the guys?”
I nod. “Make sure you double check all their passports. You leave in a couple of days.”
He slaps down the passport and stretches out his arm toward me, his hand in a fist. He waits for me to give it a bump, but this isn’t the time for fun and games. Smiling, he lowers his arm and taps his index finger on the rim of the open drawer. “Jesus. Will you relaxfor a goddamn second? Have a little faith.”
“I’ll relax when we’re on the other side of this situation with everyone still breathing,” I mutter. “Hey, I know I just sent you off on a break, but do me a favor and have the guys do a sweep after all the party planners leave. Can’t be too careful.”
“I’m way ahead of you,” he informs me. “I’ve got two men on it now, and they’ll make roundsagain in a bit. I also left orders with the gate staff. They’ve been searching every vehicle before letting them enter the premises since morning.”
“Excellent. Good work,” I tell him, and step through the doorway to leave.
“Have fun at the party,” Vinny shouts after me.
“Keep your eyes peeled while I do,” I shoot back.
I return to the main house, my body on edge asI drown out the sounds of departing catering trucks and florist vans. Guests will start to arrive within the hour. The threat is real, and the cost of a mistake is way too high. No matter how small the guest list is. More than anything, I have to do my part to ensure everything runs like clockwork.
When I push open the front door of the main house, I'm greeted by one of my men who cameto let me know Romano wants to see me in his tailor's onsite fitting room. I arrive there to find him with the tailor, as well as his consiglieri and the accountant. They must've gotten here while I was with over at the staff quarters. It's yet another reason I need someone like Vinny to be my eyes and ears.
“You wanted to see me, boss?” I announce myself at the door.
"Sit over there.I'll be done in a minute." Romano's face is thoughtful and his voice apprehensive and gravelly as he stands in the middle of the modern, sun-filled room. The mirror at the far wall only accentuates the resolve on Romano's face. His tailor circles him, the sixty-something-year-old fussing in Italian only as he makes the final fitting adjustments for yet another custom three-piece suit, this onefor the party tonight.
Taking a seat, I lean back into the soft leather guest chair closest to the bay window. Sunlight floods in from behind me, enveloping the dim yellow glow of the light from the fancy cream lampshade of a shoulder-height pewter floor lamp on my left. The subtle movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention in the silent space. I turn to one side and realizeit's the almost see-through window drapes, the softly swaying decor that has set off mental alarm bells in my head. Maybe I'm just paranoid. Or hyper-vigilant, as the boss like to say. I'm noticing everything as I remain still, waiting for Romano to speak. Like the cool draft blowing up the back of my neck that causes me to turn and check behind me again, this time for any open windows. Lifting thedrapes slightly, I scan up to the ceiling and down to the floor. That brief once-over tells me what I need to know. The air movement isn't from any of the windows, which are all closed. It's coming from an air conditioning unit that this southern side of the house needs desperately at this time of year.
Relaxing once more, I take a breath and wait. I have a sinking feeling there’s morenews coming. He wouldn’t ask for me just so I can be a fly on the wall while he talks to his oldest friend and consiglieri, Lorenzo Pinucci, and the man’s son, Cristiano, the new accountant. A part of me wants Romano to forget the tailor and kick off the meeting so I can have the update already. Being patient isn’t an issue for me, but on an intense day like today, I can’t deny that mine is startingto wear thin.
But I know my place, and I know how he operates.
