Sloane Monroe 5.5-Flirting with Danger

by Cheryl Bradshaw

  Maddie had been whisked away by Daniela, which was fitting. She hadn’t been invited to what I assumed was only a two-person dinner party. He wanted to see me alone. I wasn’t sure why he bothered. At this point, there was nothing more to say. Not on my end. Why reopen a wound after working so hard to close it?

  In the time we’d been apart, I escaped inside myself, shut everyone out, taking several months off from accepting new clients in order to consider my life choices—the good, the bad, the horrendously ugly. As people go, Giovanni fell into all three. I wondered which side I’d see tonight.

  I walked into a stark white room, sat in a chair opposite him even though he’d pulled out a chair to his right. We may have been several feet apart, but the way his eyes drilled into mine made it feel like mere inches.

  “You look nice,” he said.

  I was wearing a frumpy, multicolored tank top, a shawl, and leggings. There wasn’t anything nice about it.

  “You cut your hair since I saw you last,” he continued. “It’s short, darker than I remember. What do they call that style again?”

  A pixie cut, you idiot. Stop fishing.

  I didn’t respond, instead shifting my gaze to a bowl an older woman wrapped in a stained, white apron had just placed in front of me. It was soup. Reddish-orange. Some kind of creamy tomato from the tangy smell of it. I took a sip, behaved like I was the only person in the room.

  “You’ve decided never to speak to me again,” Giovanni asked. “Is that it?”

  I released the tight grip I had on the spoon in my hand. It clanked against the side of the bowl. “Do you have any children?”

  He thought about it, which answered the question better than words ever could. He did have children. No explanation needed.

  “A daughter. Allesandra.”

  “In all the time we dated, you never mentioned her to me. Why?”

  “I didn’t see how it was relevant,” he said.

  “You didn’t see how it was relevant? How is it possible someone as intelligent as yourself doesn’t understand how a normal relationship works?”

  “If we would have advanced further, I would have told you.”

  If we would have advanced? The nerve of him. Even then he wouldn’t have told me. The timing was never right. Not when it came to revealing details about himself. For someone who was once so warm, he’d grown incredibly cold.

  Daniela had yet to show her face and make the announcement we planned. I was through waiting. I tossed the napkin on my lap onto the table, backed the chair up, stood.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Away from you.”

  “Wait a minute. Allow me to finish the conversation.”

  “We weren’t having a conversation. Enjoy your evening, Giovanni.”

  “She’s dead.”

  She’s. Dead.

  I pivoted. “What did you say?”

  “Allesandra. She passed away.”

  “What? When? How?”

  “Years ago. It was a time in my life I’m not proud of, a time long past. I no longer talk about it. I’m sorry if that’s not good enough for you, but it’s all I’m willing to say on the subject.”

  Before I could even consider how to respond, Daniela entered, proving herself the queen of bad timing.

  “I’ve arranged a dinner party for tomorrow night,” she declared.

  Giovanni’s expression hardened. “Without speaking to me first?”

  “I don’t need your permission.”

  “I never said you did. I would have liked to know about it before you made plans.”

  “You do know about it,” Daniela said. “I just told you.”

  “Who have you invited, and why?”

  Daniela broke eye contact with Giovanni and looked at me, clearly implicating my involvement in the scheme we’d hatched.

  His attention diverted to me. “What have you done?”

  “She hasn’t done anything,” Daniela said. “I’ve invited the Romanos for dinner. Not all of them, just Rocco, his brother, Rocco’s wife, their children. They said yes. It was easy.”

  “You did what?”

  “They’re family, Gio.”

  The words “they’re family” clung to my face like raw humidity on a hot day. What had she meant by that?

  “As long as they don’t know we hired Misty, they have no reason to suspect a thing,” Daniela continued. “If they do know, we won’t be able to hide from it anyway, so why not find an excuse to clear us of any wrongdoing, and get it out in the open?”

  “Why would you do this?”

  “I want the chance to speak with Benny. Alone.”

  “And what am I supposed to do with Rocco in the meantime?”

  “Talk business,” Daniela said.

  “We don’t ‘talk business’ between families. You know that.”

  Daniela’s shoulders bobbed up and down. She stole an olive from a bowl in the center of the table, popped it into her mouth. “You’ll think of something. You always do.”

  The more enraged Giovanni became, the faster I walked to the door, deciding it would be best to allow brother and sister to hash out the details themselves. Some of the details. The other specifics would have to remain between us three girls until our plan had been carried out.

  A shrill, high-pitched squeal tore through the room, stopping me from making my exit. “Hellooo? Giovanni? You here?”

  Daniela stiffened, all except for her eyes, which jerked in my direction.

  A woman entered the dining room. She wore a fitted black dress with a plunging neckline that cut between her breasts, studded stiletto heels, and glossy, red lipstick. Her skin was tan, her hair long, wavy, the same dark-chocolate shade as mine. The woman looked at me, smirked. She knew who I was. And yet, I didn’t know her. Not officially. I’d seen her once before sitting beside Giovanni at Carlo’s funeral, but I’d slipped out before we were introduced.

  “You weren’t supposed to return for another three days.” Giovanni attempted to speak in an even tone, even though his nervousness was apparent.

  “I decided to come home early. Is that a problem?” The woman extended an arm toward me, pointer finger extended. “Will someone explain to me what she’s doing here, in my house?”

  “She has a name,” I said.

  “Oh, I know your name,” she said. “Allow me to tell you mine. It’s Valentina Violeta Romano Luciana.”

  It took me an entire minute to process those four little words. It took even longer for me to accept them. It felt like the room was spinning and I was about to plunge down the rabbit hole. “Romano? Any relation to Rocco?”

  “Ah, I see you know my brother.” She leaned in to Giovanni, smothered his mouth with her lips. When she pulled back, an oily smudge remained. He brushed it away.

  “I understand you also know my husband,” Valentina said.

  A kid I didn’t know about, followed by a wife I didn’t know about. Fantastic.

  “How long have you two been married?” I squeaked.

  “Let me put it this way,” she said, hand on hip, “long before the two of you ever met.”

  My breathing stilled. I braced myself against the edge of a wooden chair by the door. Not seeing the potential for the situation to get any worse, I inhaled a lungful of air and steadied myself, just in time to see a young boy’s head peek through the door.

  “Daddy, daddy!” he screamed.

  The boy, who couldn’t have been much older than three, ran to Giovanni, wrapping his stick-like arms around Giovanni’s leg.

  Unless Allesandra had risen from the dead, aged backward, and changed sexes, I’d just met Giovanni’s second child.

  Giovanni ran a hand through the boy’s soft, brown hair, cupped the boy’s cheek. “Run along and play, Marcelo. I’ll come find you in a while, and we can talk about your trip.”

  Marcelo’s face saddened as he realized he was being turned away. He walked past me, his bottom lip jutting out, face stuck on the
ground. I followed him out the door.

  “Sloane, wait just a—”

  I half-turned. “No, Giovanni. Spend some time with your wife.”

  CHAPTER 17

  I woke the next morning determined that by the end of the day, one way or another, I’d fly back home and never return to New York City again. I’d given Daniela my word, and even though it seemed there was no one in Giovanni’s family I could trust any longer, I’d already told Daniela I’d see our plan through. I’d made a promise. I wasn’t about to break it now, no matter how much I wanted to.

  After explaining the dining room fiasco to Maddie, she assumed the role of protector, refusing Giovanni when he came to our bedroom door, not once, but twice. The second time, Giovanni endured a side of Maddie rarely seen, the effect of how she reacted when someone she cared about had been wronged. Ever since the one-sided verbal tongue lashing, he hadn’t been brave enough to return to the door again.

  I was dressed and ready, applying the finishing touches of makeup to my face while I waited for Maddie to return. Several hours earlier, she’d left with her sharp-shooting bodyguard. After teaching her class, she planned to meet up with an old friend to procure an item we would need later on.

  I remained in the room, alone, having no desire to see Giovanni or any other members of his family. I passed the time by looking into anyone with the name Dashner. The most prominent Dashner was a man named Edward H. Dashner. Edward was a doctor, and, as it turned out, he was involved in a program called Doctors Assist International. He frequently traveled across the country administering medicine to those in need. I checked on the site, looking at the list of countries they visited. The list was alphabetical. Italy was on it.

  There was a knock on the bedroom door.

  “Can I come in?”

  Daniela.

  “It’s open,” I said, though I was hoping to avoid her along with the rest.

  She entered, carrying a tray of food which she set on the nightstand. “You didn’t come down for breakfast this morning. I told Maddie it would be ready for you at ten o’clock.”

  “Can you blame me?”

  “No, I can’t,” she said. “I … ahh … feel I should speak up on Giovanni’s behalf.”

  I rinsed the makeup off my hands, dried them on a hand towel. “Is Valentina really Giovanni’s wife?”

  “Yes, she is.”

  “And is Marcelo his son?”

  She nodded, reluctantly.

  “How could you, Daniela? He’s always hid things from me—but you?”

  “I know, I should have told you. I wanted to. He said it would cause—”

  “Please. Just stop. There’s nothing more to say. Besides, Giovanni and I haven’t been together for a while now. I see no reason why an explanation is needed.”

  “Sloane, you really should allow me to—”

  “No, Daniela. No more. I’ll do what I said I would, as agreed, and then I’m leaving.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed. Nodded. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Staying.”

  “Don’t thank me. I’m trapped here, remember? You’re my way out.”

  “You’re not trapped. Truth is, I just think he doesn’t want to see you go.”

  It didn’t matter what he wanted.

  I was going, and I wasn’t ever coming back.

  CHAPTER 18

  Maddie returned from her conference with something she called “devil’s breath,” a nasty drug also known as scopolamine, a kind of truth serum we hoped would turn “The Hammer” into a babbling buffoon. There were no promises, though. As Maddie explained it, “truth serum” didn’t guarantee the truth would actually come out. The drug varied from person to person. It was inconsistent at best. A longshot. But it was the only shot we had.

  Maddie instructed Daniela on how to administer the drug. We were told to wait inside her oversized shoe closet, a room no man had any reason to enter.

  “Tell me how this drug works,” I whispered to Maddie.

  “It’s tasteless, odorless, and colorless. That’s why I asked her to slip it into the wine she’s going to offer him.”

  “What does it do exactly?”

  “It blocks the formation of memories. Regardless of what happens, he shouldn’t be able to recall what went on here tonight with any kind of clarity. It’s like a fragment of time will be lost forever. Gone.”

  “How long does it take to kick in?” I asked.

  “Not long. He’ll still be coherent, conscious, articulate even, but he’ll lack willpower, give in to suggestion. That’s when we’ll find out what he knows.”

  “Won’t he remember Daniela inviting him here? Assume he was drugged?”

  “Hard to say. Some are more susceptible than others.”

  The plan was for Benny to wake up in Daniela’s bed. Naked. And hopefully thinking the two of them had slept together. She’d give him a kiss or two, and send him on his way.

  “Daniela said she’d let him go once she gets what she wants.”

  Maddie laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “I’m not sure I believe her, and you shouldn’t either. Her father’s life is at stake—her entire family, if she gets caught.”

  “She promised he wouldn’t be hurt.”

  “Sloane, Benny’s a criminal. They’re all criminals. Giovanni included.”

  I looked away. “I know.”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

  “Forget it. I don’t love him anymore. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care, didn’t still have feelings. But they’re not the same now. They’ll never be the same.”

  …

  Several minutes before the dinner guests were to arrive, Giovanni clutched hold of my wrist as I ascended the stairs, peeling one of his long, slender fingers back and extending it toward my face like a dagger.

  “You have guests coming,” I said. “You need to go.”

  “We need to talk. This isn’t over. What you did, filling my sister’s head with ideas, it’s not okay. You can’t run around here, doing anything you like.”

  Too late. I just did

  I wriggled my arm, but he wouldn’t release me. “Let go.”

  The doorbell rang, leaving him with no other option other than to set me free. Before I stepped away from him, I leaned close, whispered in his ear. “This bed you’re in right now … when everything is said and done, just remember, you are the one who made it.”

  …

  While Maddie and I remained out of sight, Daniela stopped in to let us know the dinner party had commenced in a friendly, cordial manner. Rocco behaved as if he wasn’t the slightest bit suspicious of anyone in Giovanni’s family. Wine flowed freely as did idle conversation. Daniela even braved the biggest question of all—asking what everyone’s plans were for the rest of the night. When Benny said he didn’t have any, it opened the door for Daniela to ask him to stay, talk for a while, an offer he quickly accepted. Rocco remained quiet about his trip to Rome later that evening.

  Once dinner concluded, Rocco made a quick exit, excusing himself by taking a call and saying there was something that needed to be “handled.” Benny followed Daniela up to her room, where the real action was about to begin.

  CHAPTER 19

  “Why now?” Benny asked.

  “Why, what?” Daniela responded.

  “Accept me. Invite me to your room. I’ve asked you out for years. Why here? Why like this? This isn’t like you.”

  “Maybe you never tried hard enough.”

  Glasses clanked together. The pair toasted to the health and happiness of their families, and to good fortune, a sentiment that meant something different to each of them. Within minutes, Benny’s formal, tough-guy act faded, and a new, malleable Benny emerged. As he embraced the oh-so-good feeling, he began singing Daniela’s name repeatedly like it was a song. She laughed, played the part, accepting his flirty banters of affection.


  “Dan … yell … ah,” Benny sang. “Come to me. Come here.”

  Daniela stepped over to the closet, whispered, “Is he ready yet?”

  Maddie pushed the closet door open, nodded.

  “Is this okay?” Daniela asked. “I mean, is it all right if he sees you?”

  “It’s fine,” Maddie said. “He shouldn’t remember we were here.”

  “I’m not sure what to say,” Daniela said. “How far can I go? What can I ask him?”

  Maddie shrugged. “Anything.”

  “Dan … yell … ah, where’d you go?” Benny walked around the room. Searching.

  “He’s crooning like he’s backed by a full orchestra,” I said. “You need to keep him quiet. We don’t need Giovanni up here.”

  For as tough and assertive as I knew Daniela to be, her visible thigh was trembling. She was out of her league tonight, and she knew it. I lacked the patience necessary to wait until it passed, if it passed at all.

  I stepped into the room, exchanged glances with Benny.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”

  He sat.

  Test one: success.

  “Daniela tells me you oversee most of the nightclubs in town.”

  “I do,” he said. “Why?”

  “I need to get into Essence.”

  He giggled like I’d been smacked over the head by a stupid stick. “Use the front door then, lady, like everyone else.”

  “The front door is for guests of the club. I want to go through the side door, hang out in the secret room with your brother and his friends.”

  He swished a hand through the air. “It’s easy. Punch in the code and you’re in.”

  “I would,” I said, “but I don’t know the code.”

  “I don’t either.”

  We had ourselves a problem.

  “I thought you managed the club.”

  “I do. Never took the time to memorize the numbers, though.”

  “How do you get in when the club’s not open?” I asked.