The Professor

by Rachel Renee

  There are files of guns available. Files of people to contact if looking for specific ammunition. Files upon files of past transactions and ones that are scheduled to take place in the future.

  After all those files are downloaded, I search the rest of the computer icons. When I spot one with my name on it, I freeze. Why does Rubio need a file on me and what does it contain? Double-clicking the folder, I wait impatiently for it to open up. My heart beats fast as I think back to that conversation with Moretti earlier. He knows someone is working for the CIA. Is that what I will find in this file? Intel against me?

  I still completely as the individual file names appear before me. Ever so slowly, I release the air trapped in my lungs. There are only three dates on this file and as I click each one, the details of my missions for Paolo are the only items listed. By the time I’ve closed out the last one, I’m breathing normally once more. If it’s me that he suspects, it is not on this file. I download the contents anyway, just to show that I’m a team player and I’m willing to put myself out there for the CIA.

  I click on a few more files that look telling and download each to the pin drive. The more I download, the slower the computer moves. Sitting back in the chair, my eyes scan everything they can while I wait. After I’m satisfied that I’ve looked at everything, my body relaxes into the leather, causing an amount of squeaking that could probably wake an entire army! My shoulders, all the way down through my back tenses. I listen for sounds outside the door as I slowly pull myself back to the front of the seat I’m in.

  There are no footsteps, no whispered ramblings outside the door or alarms being sound, so I feel like I’m safe. I wish these files would hurry up! The urge to get back to my room is overwhelming but the meter is only at twenty percent so the wait will continue. I open up the Internet browser, hoping to discover Paolo Rubio’s search history and maybe some information on how he finds his clientele. Fingers crossed there is more banking info on tap as well.

  There’s the tiniest creak outside the office door, giving me pause and making me more alert than I was even moments ago. It wasn’t right outside the room but it was unmistakable. Someone is by the stairway. I halt everything, my ears doing double duty. Is that a giggle?

  As the nearly silent plops of footsteps grow closer, other sounds get louder. “Stay here. I’ll just grab it.”

  “No, I’m coming in with you,” A much smaller voice squeals.

  “No. I’ll just be a second. Padre doesn’t like anyone in his office.”

  In his office. Shit. He’s coming in here. I peer up at the brightly lit screen, fifty percent. Dammit. If I close the lid on the laptop, I may have to start all over again. If I don’t close it, though, I will be found out. Silently, my hand reaches out, gradually lowering the top of the computer. I leave just a tiny crack so that maybe the machine won’t completely turn off, causing my files to halt in their process. Gingerly, I slide off the chair, knees hitting carpet, sliding forward into the opening under me.

  “I’ll leave the door open. You can watch me the whole time.”

  “It’s too dark. I can’t see anything.” The woman is much louder now, and I hear the unmistakable, ssshhhh, sound coming from Santi’s lips. I wonder what he could be after in this office. Something that he plans to use with his lady friend and being unaware of the multitude of items surrounding me, he could be coming for anything.

  The door creaks open, slowly, very slowly, and the padded footfalls grow nearer. I’m all the way underneath the desk now, hunched in the tiniest ball I can muster. As long as Santi doesn’t come over to the desk, I’m golden. Two sets of footsteps grow closer by the second and I realize that one of them has stopped just on the other side of me. There is movement from up above as well.

  “Just got to grab the key. Please stay put. And don’t touch anything.”

  I can’t understand what the woman says but I feel something soft brush up against my ankle ever so slightly. Her toes brush me once more, this time stopping when they hit their mark. I try to keep my body completely still, not even letting the rise and fall of my chest happen. She might not realize what she is touching if I don’t move.

  Santi’s presence looms over me, his feet just inches from mine. If I don’t get caught, it will be a miracle. The unmistakable click of the laptop completely closing almost causes a stir, but I remember that I can’t move. A drawer opens, an item is removed, and footsteps travel across the room. A cabinet door groans as it unlatches from its base. “Got it,” he mumbles. The footsteps close in on me once more and the toes from the other side of the desk scrunch up, grabbing the hem of my pants with them. I don’t know what she thinks she is touching but I hope she doesn’t put two and two together and realize it is not carpet.

  Santi is above me once more, replacing what I assume is a key into the drawer. As it closes, the bottom skims my head, causing it to catch. Thankfully, Santi doesn’t realize that there is anything under the desk as he pushes the piece of furniture much harder, digging the metal piece that hit me before into my scalp. Warm liquid seeps onto my scalp instantly. I’m frozen solid in my spot, allowing the blood to trickle through my hair because the only other option is to cover the wound with my hand but the movement alone will alert the other bodies in the room to my existence.

  There is some shuffling of papers, a sliding of the laptop over just slightly before Santi departs from the space we were sharing. The woman on the other side of the desk uncurls her toes, releasing my pant leg and allowing me to move my foot ever so slightly. I thought it was further out of her reach, but as her heel contacts the side of my shin, I practically come out of my skin with the shock of it.

  I’m grateful for the giggle that hides my sound. The noise of mouth on skin, that conceals the small hiccup that my lips released. The moment the footsteps exit the room and the door shuts back as quietly as it opened, I move.

  Knowing there is a red liquid oozing over my head, I hurry myself to reopen the computer and see how my uploaded content is faring. To my surprise, it is at ninety-eight percent. My fingers strum on the keyboard, opening up the search engine, and jotting down all the words located within on a single sheet of paper so that the indention of my words are not discernable to anyone else. The moment the pin drive clicks one hundred percent, I click remove hardware, close out of the Internet browser, and ensure the laptop is in the exact spot that I found it in.

  The chair is moved back into place and I’m on my way out with the documents on a small device in my pocket and a piece of paper crumbled just so, surrounding it. The mission I set out on is accomplished and now the only thing left to do tonight is getting back to my room without being detected. Approaching the door, I pause once more to make sure I don’t hear anything on the other side of it. When I feel safe that I’m in the clear, I open it and slip out as quickly as possible, closing it back and hiding the deception that just took place inside.

  31

  Sophia and I don’t ever discuss what happened that night, but I will always remember the look on her face as she snuck back into the room we were sharing in the wee hours of the morning. I don’t know if it was the glow of the moon trickling through the window or the sparkle coming directly from the woman whose life would be forever altered after whatever happened to her in the hours we were apart. I felt relief and I know she felt anything but. I never let on that I was awake or that I even heard her come in. As she slipped silently into bed, I rolled over, allowing a tiny snore to slip out, trying to avoid a conversation I knew she would rather not have, now or ever, with me.

  The next morning was filled with more silence, and the only conversation concerned the scrape across my head and how we were going to hide it on the way out. We decided to let it go. If someone noticed, I would be able to tell them that I scraped it on the underneath of the desk in our room.

  When we departed from the Rubio estate the next morning, I contacted my lieutenant, alerting him to the intel I was able to collect. They sent a courier to
the apartment shortly after I placed that call. Once those files were out of my hands, there was nothing more for me to do but continue my life, my charade, until I got the go-ahead to end the mission. Or, the intel led to something more for me to attain.

  Term started back up again and Santi and I cohabitated in our apartment in Florence. My classes were interesting and full as my reputation as the “fun” professor had gotten out. Santi asked me almost daily about wedding plans and I told him constantly that there weren’t any yet and I’d tell him the moment that something was arranged. That soothed him until the next day. Sadly, he would never get any news about wedding plans, but I couldn’t give him that information.

  I talked with Sophia daily, not strictly for the mission but to keep up appearances. She visited me more often and at times our relationship often felt very real. The parts we were playing became us, or we became them. It was exciting and frightening at the same time. At a moment’s notice, this whole scheme could come to an end.

  After the holidays, Moretti went into hiding out of the country. It became apparent that Paolo and his men had pegged him as CIA. He started receiving threats and even had a bullet whiz by his head one evening as he strolled through the streets of Rome. The rest of us became nervous that they would find out about our association with him and subsequently figure out that we were also in bed with the agency. None of us have gotten wind of such talks, thankfully, and Moretti keeps in contact about daily email transmissions from Rubio’s computer. Paolo sends everything through email. If he knew how much we were finding out, he’d stop using the Internet as eagerly as he has been.

  Sophia promises that she is no longer seeing Rubio, and I believe that to be the truth. She presses END when his name appears on her phone, and more importantly for me, hasn’t had any news on his dealings. Charlie is keeping tabs on her when she’s in Rome and reports that he hasn’t spotted the two together or caught wind of her traveling to his estate. Her distance from this case is growing, which makes me happy, but I can only imagine how hard it is for her. It was Sophia’s case from the beginning, and now, even though she is still officially a part of the team, the only thing she’s doing to help is playing the part of my fiancée.

  As I lie here in bed tonight, my mind drifts back to Savannah. Back to my old life, my family, the girl I left behind. Sometimes the thought of who I used to be becomes so overwhelming that I want to pack my bags and run away from this new Liam. Or Niccolo. There are times when I don’t even remember which one I’m supposed to be. This will get easier, I tell myself. I’ll settle into my roles and still be able to hold on to my identity. I won’t always have to play the part of someone different and in those times, I will remember the Liam of old. Although, the Liam of old may not actually be my destiny.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” Sophia moves closer to me, placing her soft fingers against the back of my hand.

  “Who am I?”

  She laughs. “Whoever you want to be.”

  “That’s not true. I have to play my part. I don’t get to choose.”

  “That is also not true.” She strums her fingers on my skin. “You can play your part and still create your identity. Your true identity.”

  “Easier said than done.”

  “Isn’t that the truth? But…I’m still me. The Sophia of old is still inside.”

  “Is that your real name?” I finally ask the question that I have wondered since I met her.

  “It is now. I have been Sophia for so long. It has grown on me or I have grown with it, I can no longer tell the difference.”

  “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “No, Niccolo, it does not. Life is a series of lessons and growth. Before Sophia, I was just a me that didn’t know where I was going in life. Since Sophia, I have grown tremendously into the person that I am today. No regrets, no missed opportunities…”

  I nudge her with my elbow, knowing that is not the truth.

  “Okay, well, maybe some missed opportunities,” she huffs but I feel the smile creep across her face as she leans into my shoulder. “But every instance that I have endured has brought me here and I am good with here. I love Rome. I believe she was in my blood all along, just waiting for me to find her.”

  “So even after this mission is over, you will stay? Will you leave the CIA?”

  Without missing a beat, she answers, “Yes. To both. I have loved my work but now I love myself more. I will happily retire once everything is finalized.”

  Even though she says those words, I don’t really believe she will never work a case again. It takes a lot of training to work for the CIA, and I can’t imagine she’s actually going to throw that all away. Maybe she will take cases that don’t force her to be something she is not. I’m sure the agency could find something that she could do from Rome. My mouth is bitter with those words, but I don’t speak them aloud. She may truly believe this is it for her and I don’t want to burst that bubble.

  “As long as you’re happy.” I lean my head against hers, drawing in the lavender scent coming from her freshly washed hair.

  “I am. I will be. You will find your true identity, Nic. Someday it will become apparent. It may be Liam who wins, or Niccolo may shine through. It’s possible it will be a combination, or another persona may even come to the top. Just be you. Whoever that ends up being. Decide what you will or won’t do. Decide what you believe in and what you are willing to forego. Most importantly, make sure you choose who you aren’t.”

  Those words stick with me as I close my eyes. Decide who I am not. That seems easier than deciding who I am at this time. I’m not someone who sits around and waits for my life to happen, I make it happen. I’m not weak; my strength has gotten me this far. I’m not cynical; optimism reigns true most often. As the list grows, the realization that I know who I am becomes apparent. Maybe that’s what Sophia meant. If I know who I’m not, then I have the ability to discern who I am.

  “What are you two up to today? Want to get some breakfast?”

  Santi is walking out of his room, missing a shirt, hair going every which way but in the direction it’s supposed to go in. His sweats are slung low on his waist and as I see Sophia gaze over at him, I can’t stop the thought that if I were her, I’d find him extremely sexy. She’s indifferent with him, and I realize it must be because of Paolo. If she has feelings for his father, of course she wouldn’t look at him in that way.

  I whisper in her ear, telling her to decide what we should do.

  “I think we are going to stay in this morning,” she answers. “Maybe dinner tonight?”

  “Dinner is good. Cat got your tongue this morning, Nic?”

  “Something like that.” I’m not fully awake as I lay in bed most of the night just thinking about what Sophia and I talked about. I also couldn’t stop imagining what Sophia would do once this task is complete. If all goes to plan, Paolo Rubio will be extricated back to the States, in prison for the rest of his days. Will Sophia be able to live here, live with herself, knowing that? If she truly loves the man, will she allow us to complete our mission and uncover his sins? In the back of my mind, I can’t help think about the fact that she could be playing me instead of Rubio. What if what we are doing is truly a ruse against the CIA and myself and when the time is right, she’ll turn her backs on all of us, in return gaining the love of the man she has feelings for? If she knows who she is, if she is happy with the life she has made for herself as Sophia, does she really want us to put Paolo Rubio behind bars? Or is she willing to let go of that love for the commitment she made to her job? A job that she openly alleged she was going to quit once this mission was finished.

  “I didn’t sleep well,” I finally answer.

  Santi’s brows raise. “I wouldn’t either if I was lying next to Sophia.”

  “Take those thoughts right out of your head, Santi,” Sophia scolds.

  “Hey, hey. I am sorry if I offended you. I was being honest. You are a true beauty.”

  “That b
elongs to another.”

  “I am only making note of the merchandise. I have no plan to purchase.”

  The laugh that escapes me is contagious because the other two occupants do so as well. By the time it dies down, the three of us are standing in the kitchen together, preparing coffee and pulling breakfast food from the refrigerator and cabinets. Each of us has a job and no words even have to be spoken for the others to know what they are meant to be doing.

  When all this ends, the thought of what it will do to Santi is yet another that plagues my mind. He will lose his father, and he will lose his friend. The one he says he considers a brother but the one who has knowingly been leading him through a series of events that will ultimately break him.

  I push those images into the recesses of my brain and enjoy this moment. No matter what the future holds, these two souls standing so close in proximity will be at the forefront of my memories for a lifetime.

  Breakfast is shared at the table, and after two cups of coffee, Santi leaves Sophia and me alone in the apartment. Within moments of his departure, the phone in the bedroom begins buzzing. Sophia and I ignore it as we clean up our mess, but when it beckons us for a third time, I run to retrieve it.

  “Are you alone?” My lieutenant is calling and wants to know if I can talk away from any prying ears.

  “Sophia is with me,” I answer. I’m sure he will want me to share the information with her too so I place the call on speaker.

  “No,” he yells into the line. Sophia’s eyes widen at his bark.

  My eyes dart from the phone back to Sophia and then to the phone once more where I press the button to return the call to private. “Sorry,” I answer. “Give me a second.”