“Thursday,” Alegna said. “Shopping trips are every Monday and Thursday. You always have to be up early, so get used to it. We still have our regular duties to do back home regardless.”
“Yes ma’am.” Three days. That was how long I had to respond to Gianni.
As soon as we were back at the estate, I excused myself to the bathroom and pulled the letter out of my pocket.
My Love,
I hope you are doing well. It’s been only a week, but it feels like it's been years since I’ve held you. How are things at the house in my wake? Do my siblings seem to care at all that I’m gone?
What of my father? Have you heard anything? He’ll be telling me the next step of his plan soon. Hopefully, it doesn’t involve killing myself again.
Because I know you’re nervous, the wound is healing just fine. My skin was toughened around the spot. I’m not sure what one does with the very odd and unique skill of being able to be shot in a specific spot and survive, but without you, I find myself rich with time. Maybe I’ll do some research.
Please be safe and know that I miss you every day. I can’t wait to hold you again soon.
Gianni.
Tears were in my eyes before I could stop them, a few of them dropping and creating darkened spots against the paper. It wasn’t much, but I had his words in my hands, and that was enough to get me through another day. I didn’t know how long I’d have to wait to be in Gianni’s arms again, but if it took years it didn’t matter to me.
‘My love’he’d said. He hadn’t said those words to me yet, though I’d said them to him many times.
Did Gianni really love me? I was too afraid to ask.
13
Gianni
After just two months, the box that I’d been keeping Philippa’s letters in for safe keeping was already full to bursting. I looked down at her most recent letter, a racy description of what she’d do if we were together, and my body started to heat up. If I missed her before, reminding my body of the absence of hers brought me nearly to the edge of going crazy.
Trying my best to attach her voice to the words she’d written, I gave myself a hand, relieving the arousal that had come and left me aching, but though I was able to find release, I was far from satiated. I missed her, body and soul, and it was getting harder with each passing day to stay away.
There had been a few times, when I was alone with my thoughts and maybe a little too much alcohol, where I considered just storming the house, taking Philippa, and rushing off into the night. If I thought I’d be successful, I might have tried it, but I’d be dead before I made it past the front gate. As hardened as I was from my father’s demented mind, I wasn’t made of steel, and my father kept a hundred or more gunmen between the front door and the road. Until we found the window we were looking for, for Philippa to make her escape, we’d be stuck with only the letters between us.
Unfortunately, my father wasn’t an idiot. In the wake of the Bonifacios coup, he was laying low, biding his time, he told me, until it was time to enact the next step of his plan. He’d been relatively tight-lipped about what he had planned, only telling me that I was going to play a major role. I was beginning to think he was just making it up as he went along when he called asking to meet. Did I love the idea of my father knowing where I was living away from his household? No, but I didn’t have the chips to play any game other than his. Besides, what he intended to do with the underbelly of Chicago didn’t matter to me. I just had to play into his hand until I could get Philippa and leave.
Let the entire state of Illinois burn to the ground after that for all I cared.
“Gianni.” My father strode right through the front door as though my place belonged to him. He looked around at the contained living room and dining area, into the small kitchen that was more than big enough for one man, and up the stairs where the bedrooms were. “Is it just us?”
“Who else would there be?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I expected you to find someone else to spend your time with.”
I cocked an eyebrow, at first unsure of what he meant, but then it hit me.
He was talking about Philippa.
It gave me an idea that made me sick to my stomach but just may work. “Well,” I said, “it’s hard to replace good toys.”
My father looked back over his shoulder at me and his eyes, exactly like mine, fell heavy on me. “So you admit it, then?”
“Admit what?” I questioned. “Don’t behave as if you didn’t know.”
He smiled. “I figured you may be using her. I was afraid for a moment that you may have been developing something more serious.”
“Hm,” I huffed. “You think you left any room in me for true love? If you were searching for confirmation that you built a robot, let me provide it to you. She’s nothing more than a good sleeve.”
My father let out a loud, raucous laugh. “Well now, you’re even colder than I thought. I really think she cares for you, you know?”
