I am sitting at the wrought-iron chair by the pool, absentmindedly fidgeting with the cuff bracelet on my wrist. The scent of blooming jasmine mixed with the sharp smell of chlorine. The pool itself is a masterpiece of excess with an infinity edge that seems to pour directly into the sea’s turquoise horizon. The waters are a deep unnatural azure, and the water ripples across the surface, distorting the sky’s reflection. The only sound is the constant crash of waves against the cliffs below.
I stare at the screen of the laptop in front of me. Another one of the many things Damiano has provided for me. Every luxury I touch in this villa, from the silk dress against my skin to the expensive shoes I’m wearing now, is a reminder of my total dependence on him.
I’ve been trying to write an email to Sol for the past hour, and I still don't know if I’m saying the right thing. My fingers hover over the keys, paralyzed by the sheer weight of the lie I’m about to send.
It needs to be believable enough to stop her from worrying, but terrifying enough to ensure she won't try to find me. She knows me too well to believe something silly like "I'm on vacation"; no, that would lead her to call Interpol within hours.
I lean back, rubbing the stress from my eyes. I need something that suggests a long, slow medical disaster, something that demands isolation. A debilitating illness.That’s it!
I begin to type, the words coming out in strained bursts:
Sol
I am so sorry for the silence. Forgive me. Something has happened, something I can’t quite reveal yet, and I have fallen seriously ill, debilitatingly so. My doctors are insistent that I remain in complete isolation to recover. I have no choice but to step away from everything.
Please, do not try to find me or track my location. It would only complicate things while I’m trying to recover. You will need to cancel all my projects for the foreseeable future. I trust you more than anyone. Please give me this time to process this. I’ll reach out when I have more news.
Kat
I read it once, twice. It sounds cold but convincing. It is the perfect lie. Before I could rethink my words again and before the guilt of abandoning my team stopped me, I hit send.
Just then, I hear the huge sliding doors of the villa open, and I have to use my hand as a visor to see as Damiano walks out, his presence instantly commanding the space. He is dressed in a crisp white linen shirt that catches the morning breeze. He is looking effortlessly composed despite the terror he is surely navigating behind the scenes.
Before sitting, he stops behind my chair. I feel the warmth of his body near my back as he plants a kiss on the top of my head. A gesture so tender it almost makes me forget the armed guards standing by the gardens' perimeter.
"Good morning, Dolcezza," he murmurs, his voice a low vibration that resonates in my chest. He moves around to take a seat across from me. "How was your sleep? More nightmares?"
"A few," I say softly, closing the laptop lid with a subtle click. "But I’m okay."
He nods, his gaze dropping to the silver device. "And what was so urgent on the laptop this early? Work? Or are you looking for a flight to Buenos Aires already?"
"Just emailing Sol," I say, trying to keep my voice steady as I watch the sun glint off the pool’s surface. "I told her I was ill. I did not want her calling the police or anything."
“Did you use the secure email I gave you?” he asks, and I nod. He told me I had to use an email address he set up so no one could track my location.
Damiano’s expression does not change, but the air between us shifts, suddenly becoming tense. He reaches into the inner pocket of his jacket, the movement slow and deliberate.
"It is good you are thinking ahead. But there are things about the past we need to settle first."
He slides a manila envelope across the table. Neither of us touches the spread of fresh fruit, the warm pastries, nor the dark espresso that has begun to grow cold between us.
"I did not want to show you these until you were stronger," he says, but I’m already pulling out the contents of the envelope.
My heart stops as I see the first photograph. It is Mateo. He is in some hotel lobby, then a restaurant, looking relaxed, looking... compliant. And across from him is a man with a jawline like a blade and striking blue eyes.
"Nicolo?" I whisper, my fingers trembling as I touch the glossy photo.
“Do you know him?” Damiano removes his sunglasses, and the intensity in his gaze is enough to pin me to my chair, his accusing eyes sending shivers down my spine.
“No!” I whisper as my hands start to sweat.
"Katarina, look at me," he commands softly. I lift my eyes to his, feeling the raw edge of his suspicion. "I need you to be honest with me now. Do you have any ideas? Did he ever mention Nicolo’s name, or talk about debts that did not involve the company? Think carefully. If there was a conversation, a phone call, anything."
"No," I say, my voice cracking. "Never. I thought... I thought I was the only one in his life he did not have to keep secrets from. I thought we were a team." I ramble as my stomach becomes a pit.
"He was shaking hands with him, Katarina," Damiano says, his voice hardening. "You don’t dine with the Mafia so casually like that. I need to know if you were part of the conversation, even just as a bystander. Because if you were, the danger you are in is much greater than we thought."
"I knew nothing!" I snap, the sting of his doubt hurting more than the bruises on my skin. "I did not know he knew him. Why would I lie about that? I almost died because of him!"
