After I place the grocery bags in the kitchen, I head to the back room, where I keep the safe, and open it. I have money stashed away in all the villas I own, in similar vaults. I fill up an envelope with cash and close the safe, then head to the front of the house.
I hear Angela talking. Francesco has betrayed me?
I throw the envelope to the floor in anger and hurry to the main room.
There’s a man hovering over Angela. He’s pulling at her wrist, trying to force her to her feet, but she’s resisting.
“Leave me alone!” she tells him.
He’s hurting her.
My vision grows red, and before I know what’s happening I’m on the asshole and just whaling at his head. Whaling and whaling. It’s not Francesco. I don’t know who the fuck it is. All I know is I want to kill this piece of shit for touching my girl.
“Stop!” Angela screams.
I ignore her and keep pummeling. This guy once had a face, but I barely recognize it for all the gore.
I notice motion from the side and I finally stop. I spin my gaze toward Francesco, who stands at the entrance to the room with his pistol drawn. He’s still wearing his balaclava.
Angela gasps when she sees him, and whimpers.
“Va bene?” Francesco asks. Everything good?
I’m breathing hard and finally get control of myself. I nod quickly and Francesco lowers the weapon.
I return my attention to the man beneath me. I know who he is now: the caretaker.
Angela still sits on the couch but she’s crying hysterically. I ignore her.
I give Francesco a dangerous look. “Why did you let him in?”
I’m not sure he realizes it, but this is perhaps the most important question of Francesco’s life. Whether he lives or dies depends on his answer.
“He told me he wanted to see you about some back payments on the fruit farm,” Francesco replies. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”
I glare at him and stand. Wrong answer.
He dies.
Angela must see the death written on my face because I suddenly feel her hand grabbing my arm. “Please, don’t hurt him too! It’s my fault. I should have hid when I saw him come inside. I didn’t know what was going on. He told me I shouldn’t be here. Said I had to go up to my room. I guess he didn’t know you were allowing me free reign of the house.”
The caretaker spits blood from where he lies on the floor. “Si.” Yes. “I didn’t know.”
“And why aren’t you wearing a face cover?” I ask the caretaker.
“I didn’t know,” he repeats weakly.
I glare at him for the longest moment, wanting nothing more than to stomp his head to bits, but I hold myself back. Barely. For Angela.
I glance at Francesco. “Take this piece of shit back to his apartment. Then go.”
Francesco nods, hauls the injured man to his feet, and drags him from the room.
He pauses at the threshold to look back at me. “The delivery you wanted me to make?”
“Forget it,” I tell him. “Go. Quickly. Before I change my mind.”
He nods and then leaves.
