"The Americans arrive at seven," Emilio says. "Flight from Rome, rental car reserved under Sarah Phillips's name. Silver Fiat 500."
"Cancel the rental," Enzo says. "Antonio will pick them up. Tell them it's a service for friends of Madison."
"Boss," one of the men says carefully, "what if they refuse the car?"
"They won't. Madison will call her friend and insist."
All eyes turn to me.
"I will?"
"You will." He pulls out my phone from my purse. When did he take my purse? He hands it to me. "Call the lawyer friend. Tell her you've arranged transportation. Make it sound like a wonderful gift."
"And if I don't?"
The room goes completely silent. The men look between us like they're watching a tennis match that might end in bloodshed.
"Then your friends will have a very different experience in Sicily," he says quietly. "My territory, my rules. You can make this easy for them, or you can make it complicated. Choose."
The undeniable threat is clear.
Play along, or my friends might find themselves in the kind of trouble that American tourists sometimes find in foreign countries. The kind of trouble that the State Department can't help with.
"Okay, I'll call them," I say.
I dial Sarah's number, hyperaware of everyone listening to the conversation.
"Maddie! What’s up? Are you freaking out? I'm sorry for the surprise but—"
"Sarah, listen. I've arranged a driver to pick you guys up from the airport."
"What? No, we have a rental car already arranged."
"Cancel it. Trust me, the roads here are crazy insane and it's better to have a local drive you. They’re not safe. His nameis Antonio, he's a friend, and he'll take you to the hotel where you're staying."
"Hotel? We thought we'd crash with you at your lottery house."
"No, my place is a nightmare construction zone right now. No hot water, exposed wiring, very not safe. But Enzo found you guys an amazing luxury hotel nearby. Pool, views, the whole Italian dream experience."
"Enzo? The mysterious businessman?"
I feel the weight of every gaze in the room.
"Yes. He's been very helpful. He has contacts and was able to find a hotel with empty rooms for a few days."
"Madison Sullivan, tell me more about this man you’re dating."
"It's complicated,” I say. “I'll explain when you get here. Just please use the driver? For me?"
"Fine, fine. But when we get there, I want all the details about Mr. Complicated."
"You'll get them. Text me when you land."
I hang up and hand the phone back to Enzo.
"Satisfied now?"
"Getting there." He turns to his men and switches back to Italian, issuing what sound like detailed instructions. The men nod and begin filing out, each one giving me a respectful nod as they pass.
