by Rimmy London
“Thank you,” I whispered. He looked like he would wrap me in his arms, but with a step back and a lift of his chin, it was gone.
“I’m just glad you’re alright,” he said blandly. “That horse is worth quite a bit, but he looked like he was okay too. He’ll be fine after running the pasture for a while.” Swallowing, I nodded my disappointment away. But as hard as it was to get the words out, I knew I might not get another chance at it.
“Givanni,” I had to swallow again after saying his name. “What’s going on?” He looked back at me with well-fabricated confusion. I rolled my eyes, the emotion vanishing and turning to a glare. “Do you think I’m that stupid? That I can’t see what you’re doing?” I growled, angry at his mock indifference. “What are you not telling me? Why are you acting like this?” He flinched, and the cool mask dropped for a fleeting moment. In that instant, I could see pain in his eyes. I tried desperately to keep my angry face.
“Look, Lori-el,” He took a breath, and finished in rush. “This can’t continue. You work for me, and that is all we… are. I believe I have given you the wrong message.” he said, and although he choked a bit on the words, he kept a pitiful look in his eyes. I allowed a sliver of doubt to enter my heart. Weren’t we sort of… a thing? What if he had been trying to keep distance between us? Had I just not noticed it? Had I read too much into our act? I thought quickly through the last week and knew that was impossible.
“Fine,” I said quietly. “If you need me to stay away, I’ll stay away. I won’t come over and ride any more wild stallions.” His lip twitched upward. “Just don’t expect me to believe that. I honestly have no idea what’s going on with you… ” I waited for any type of response, but he only flinched his head so slightly I wasn’t sure what it meant. Taking a deep breath, I felt close to tears as I turned away. Several times I looked back only to find him standing still, watching me leave.
* * *
The next morning I fumbled with my car keys and dropped them a second time. Cursing, I snatched them up - and filled my hand with sandy pebbles in the process. I looped my finger through the chain and shook them impatiently. Getting the door open I threw my bag so hard it thunked against the window and dropped to the floor. Nothing seemed to be happening fast enough, let alone smoothly. I reached for my door still wide open and collided with the car frame. Defeated, I fell back in my chair with both hands over my throbbing forehead. After half a dozen deep breaths I finally looked in my rearview mirror at the swollen red lump that had developed. It wasn’t too bad, and by the time I was at Shellbrook, it would hardly be noticeable. Calmly I pushed the keys into the ignition, turning them slowly and taking a few more minutes to find my sunglasses. ‘No hurry…no hurry’, I repeated in my head, the chant quickening as I stepped on the gas.
By the time I had pulled into the garage, I was able to find a small sense of calm. At least enough to concentrate. Reaching the office I slid into the honey leather chair just as the lock clicked behind me. “Mr. Gin—” I stopped, staring back at Givanni. “Hi,” I finished.
“Mr. Ginetti’s office has been moved, and this is now my office. I take calls myself so you will have no need for a phone.” He glanced at my cell phone as it lit up and buzzed lightly against the desktop. “You may keep your personal phone, of course.” he finished. I tried not to glare.
“Anything else you will be needing, Sir?” It was difficult to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“No, thank you, Ms. Lane. Today is a little slow, you may leave at lunch.” I nodded, stepping back as he came towards me. Brushing past, he nearly knocked me over. I felt his hand on my waist and froze, looking into his face, but his eyes were on the door and he left quickly. With a breath, I covered the spot where his hand had been, sure that my skin had ignited. All my calm had shattered in one touch.
I didn’t see Givanni for the rest of the morning, and if I was being honest the thought terrified me. He was bound to see past my pathetic attempt at nonchalance and right through to my heart that melted like butter whenever he was around. At the stroke of noon, I locked the office doors and gratefully fled the building. The halls were quieter than usual and I wondered if the Monday holiday had persuaded a few sick calls. It took me a moment to notice the footsteps behind me. I spun around with my arms raised, fear likely turning my stealth filled movements into something more closely resembling a flailing chicken. My pursuer froze, although he kept his arms to his sides like I was as threatening as a kitten. It was Marco Ginetti. He stared back at me intensely. “What?” I grumped, finally dropping my arms and feeling irritated at my lack of intimidation. He handed me a paper file. I glanced at the dozen or so pages inside before looking back expectantly.
“That’s all I can do for you… or for him. I’m sorry.” he said. He glanced behind us. “It should be enough to persuade them. Just tell them. Tell them they’ll be exposed if this continues.” With that he left, charging back the way he’d come and disappearing around the corner. I tucked the file under one arm and walked faster, sure whatever information he’d given me was dangerous.
Before long the parking garage opened up in front of me with my car at the opposite end. The silhouette standing at the entry had me skidding to a stop. I rocked back on my feet, watching. With her slender form and lifted chin I could tell even in the darkness that it was Enrica. A car entered the garage, its headlights jumping from one spot to the next before finally illuminating her. What was going on today? I huffed, exasperated even in my thoughts. A quiet screech echoed, followed by the sound of a window lowering.
“Can I help you?” the driver offered. The chilling echo seemed appropriate and I swayed back, ready to sprint into the building. Enrica shook her head, shining illuminated hair swishing luxuriously around her shoulders. I imagined whoever the man was, he was more disappointed than ever before. He cleared his throat and I waited through a second attempt. “I work here, you know. If you want I could show you around.” Again Enrica shook her head, this time glancing around the garage. I stiffened as she scanned my isolated corner. “Here,” the man said. He passed a small card out the window. “Call me if you change your mind. It’s really no problem.” Enrica pinched the card with her dainty fingers like it was toxic waste, and I choked back a sudden laugh. This man had no idea who he was dealing with. Finally accepting defeat, he drove slowly and circled the parking lot before pulling out of the garage.
Enrica flicked the card behind her and turned so swiftly a curtain of hair swirled around her head. She was staring directly at me. “Loriel,” she said softly. I was frozen in place, sure she could pull a gun out of thin air at any moment. “I know I have not given you reasons to trust me,” she continued. I managed to nod my head. “But I would not come all the way here just to play games. You are the only one who can help.” She paused like she was waiting for a response.
“O-kay?” I muttered.
“Givanni - he was right to isolate me from you. I had no good intentions, I admit. I saw you as merely an opportunity for easy information.” In the pressing silence, her eyebrows rose dramatically. “At the dinner party? You must have noticed my every effort to draw attention.” Then under her breath. “Wearing white to a wedding dinner - really.” Her back straightened and she began a slow walk ever closer. “Givanni would have none of it, he knew before I had stepped one foot forward what I was up to.” For a fleeting moment, she looked ashamed. “I still need to make my apologies to poor Zoe… how she must loathe me.”
I found it hard to sympathize when it involved someone as pure and sweet as Zoe. But what my thoughts were more concerned with was the idea that one of the worst nights of my life, watching Givanni spin in unison with a little piece of perfection, was really an attempt to protect me... from her. I glanced back, my cheeks feeling warmer as I put my memories in the proper perspective.
“And as well at Oriana’s home, my behavior was inexcusable,” she said. With one flick of her hair, she seemed over it. “But it was Givanni’s re
action to my attempts that led me to believe if there was one person I could trust, it was you. The way he protects you - there is value in that.”
Her reasoning convinced me of absolutely nothing, and whisking past her I didn’t plan on stopping until I had put a few miles between us. “Givanni is in trouble,” she shouted. My hand stopped halfway to my car door, keys swaying in midair. I could hear her small feet padding closer, but I didn’t move. “I was there in Sicily - just beyond the courtyard. They wanted me to hear, they knew what we had been. I’m sure you remember the moment he became their servant.” Her voice had lost the pleading it carried before. “I heard the words you were unable to hear.” I turned and was surprised at her closeness. She stared back into my eyes for a moment. “He learned a new way of life that I had thought he was aware of long before. He was kept from the truth for so long - how naïve he must have been.” She rolled her eyes and settled them back on me.
“What exactly did he learn?” I pressed, not sure if I would get an answer. Whatever game she was playing, it seemed like a cover. She didn’t hesitate.
“CGI Corporation is a company under complete control of the Mafia, right there in Ragusa.” I hesitated, not able to wrap my mind around that theory. But her face remained steady, and I could barely stop myself from scoffing.
“Please, Enrica - the mafia? You’re serious right now?” I knew enough about life to know a lie when I heard one. Her jaw hardened at my response - and the way I returned her stare.
“Yes, the mafia. That is what I said and that is what I meant. Of course, it’s all a joke when you hear it like that, something as long forgotten as the Mafia. Who would believe you?” She stepped closer, invading my space, “I assure you, that organization is still thriving. Not only thriving but growing - dominating almost the entire country. Hardly a transaction passes where they are not in some way involved. Names are carried down through leadership, becoming a symbol for something you fear. Something you want to oblige and befriend. Especially when you use familiar names like Aleandro, Demitrio, even Callisto - things change. Add endearing and loving names to the pile, and it is very difficult - difficult because to most of these men and women he owes his opportunities in life. They have made every opportunity possible, every successful company a success.”
“So you’re saying… his family? Oriana?” I shook my head as I spoke, not able to picture such a connection. Enrica shook her head with me.
“No, not his family. Well, at least not the ones you met.” I didn’t realize how tense my muscles had become until I felt them relax. “They are outcasts willingly. I believe they know what is happening, but are powerless to stop it.” I found that hard to imagine. In fact, everything she’d said was hard to imagine. I searched for signs of deceit in her features and speech, but there was nothing. She seemed to be spilling her heart. “As much as I didn’t believe it, Givanni was somehow unaware of it all. But I do believe he was beginning to put things together on his return to Italy, which would explain why it was so easy for him to see that... I…” She stopped, and my eyes widened as she searched for the right explanation.
“You?” I whispered. Her head tilted to the side.
“Well, it’s difficult to explain.” She fumbled with her hands, looking guilty. “It isn’t spoken of, and on one hand you have the president of a school, a top-rated surgeon, dozens of famous businessmen - police even. They’re all members. They’re all a part of it. But it’s not anything you would take notice of. It’s invisible. Maybe they’ve been blackmailed, maybe they want power. Money. Control. For whatever reason, they take advantage of what the IM has to offer. I doubt Emilio or Adriano, even Zoe - I would be surprised if they knew everything. They might have questions, but not the kind you would ever ask.” She looked at me in a wishful way, willing me to understand. “You provide them with the respect of anonymity and accept their help when it is offered. It is only when you are expected to take your place that it is realized what you have become.”
“So this is what Givanni learned in two minutes?” I asked, thinking back to the expression on his face, and his quick alliance with the company.
“Yes. Like I said, I doubt it was a complete surprise, I’m sure he suspected. But it wasn’t enough to convince him until he finally realized that it was the only way to keep you alive.” Again I felt my thoughts scatter. When had our conversation taken that turn? “You must have heard that threat,” she continued. “Even with your inability to understand Italian.” I ignored her mild insult, but when I thought back to that day at the mansion all I could remember was the mention of Givanni and how he would no longer be considered family if…
“I’m sorry, but how did they threaten me?” I asked. Enrica looked incredulous but managed to continue.
“Let me repeat the phrase that said it all,” She cleared her throat. “A man named Callisto, someone Givanni has trusted and I believe still does trust to some extent, said distinctly that they were bound by bloodlines, but that was their only boundary. Do you remember this?” I nodded cautiously. “Do you remember how he looked directly at you before saying it?” Again I nodded, feeling anxious. “He then went on to declare Givanni family, but only if he agreed to unite. Aleandro went on to deepen the threat, but I believe Givanni was completely swayed by the words Callisto spoke.”
I was left wondering how that could be such a convincing threat. It sounded almost polite. Enrica blew her breath out. “Don’t you see? They were prepared to kill you right there in front of him, and that is what they said. You are not family, you are hardly any type of connection - and if you are lost, there are not any bloodlines within the organization that would be offended. You are dispensable!”
I could picture clearly the three calm-faced men, and a knot twisted in my stomach. It explained Givanni’s behavior perfectly, to some extent. “That is the way things are done. Their words could never be used against them because they never come out and say it! Don’t you see how they could be overlooked as good in place of evil?” I could hear the pleading in her voice, and as much as I wanted to keep my grudge against her, it was not hard to see how easily one could get tangled into such a trap.
“Can I ask you something?” I questioned. She nodded cautiously. “Why did you leave Italy?”
“To find you,” she answered promptly.
“No other reason?”
“Well…” She fumbled with the pocket of her jeans, which were incredibly low-key for someone like her. “I was a little afraid to stay in Italy. My freedom has been wrestled from me. They watch me every moment, I can’t-” She huffed what I assumed was a gasp, although coming from her tightly wound person it was a soft breath. I noticed the edges of her face moisten like granite a day after rain. It was almost the only indication that she was upset. “I can’t continue a life like that. It is no life Loriel.” Her eyes turned to me and it was clear she was done with her emotional moment. “Once I decided that to help Givanni would be to help me, you were the natural choice. You’re closer to him than anyone, and you have worked at Shellbrook through all of this. If anyone could get Givanni out of this right now, it would be you.”
Suddenly it hit me. She believed our act in Italy. If I was going to work with her on this, it wouldn’t take long for her to realize the truth - especially if Givanni kept ignoring me so completely. Now it was my turn to pause uncomfortably.
“I have worked at Shellbrook,” I searched for the words. “But Givanni and I… aren’t… together.” Her face was puzzled. “We never were, and since we’ve been back from Italy he has hardly spoken to me.”
“Ah, I see,” she said, her eyebrows lifting like arcs of golden thread. “So you think he will not welcome the interference?” Gripping the folder, I had to decide then and there if I trusted Enrica.
“I can’t tell you here. Get in,” I rushed. She didn’t question me further, and in the next few seconds, we were out of the parking garage and en route to my place. Half the drive we sat in silence, with me wondering
how close she had been with Givani. I mulled over their past and nearly jumped when she spoke. “Did you have more questions?” she asked. My face was entirely too easy to read.
“What was your relationship with Givanni?” I blurted out. It was an impulsive question, and entirely unnecessary, but I told myself otherwise. I told myself it was very important. Her lips curved into a smile.
“I thought that might be one. Did he ever talk about us?” she asked. I lifted my shoulders, deciding that I wanted her to do the talking. Her eyes grew slightly out of focus. “We grew up together, but I never quite fit in. There’s too much controversy surrounding me. I was abandoned young, and in that respect, I was already independent. So even though I spent all my time around a nice family, I felt apart from them.” I nodded through her pause. “When we did start spending time together I went with it, pretending to be as even-tempered as him. But it only lasted a short while, and when we met again I didn’t bother hiding my anger at the world - at the injustices. I believe he thought I was a different person, but it was only that I had stopped pretending.” She looked at me for a long time. “Although I respect him, I was never in love with Givanni.”
I simply nodded and remained quiet for the rest of the trip. But mostly I realized that Givanni’s guilt, the guilt that had kept him from his family, the guilt from hurting Enrica... was for nothing.
* * *
That night, after I’d made a pot of instant soup, of which Enrica took three bites, I lay on my bed with the folder on my lap. Enrica had retreated to the spare bedroom and my thoughts jumped from what I was going to do for breakfast to the crazy idea that we could outsmart the Mafia. The Mafia. I shivered and rubbed one hand along my arm before glancing into the hall. At least I felt safe with my somewhat frightening supermodel houseguest. I opened the folder. But what I found seemed more like fiction than actual evidence. Actual help. Wasn’t that the word Marco had used? There were names of government officials, Italian and American alike, as well as sports professionals and company founders. And all of them with links to the IM, the Italian Mafia.
