I grin at the hint of desperation in his voice. Paolo is currently on his first vacation in years with his wife, their three-year-old twin daughters, eighteen-month-old son and their little girl who's just two months old.
I told him to get a vasectomy when he started turning gray from worry over the twins' antics but would he listen?
"No, you relax, enjoy your time off. Twelve days to go, yes?"
Cutting the call before he can finish the inventive curse he was throwing at me, I put my phone back in my pocket. I return my attention to Eliza, who's leaning over to look out of the window. Unsure what she's finding so fascinating, I glance out.
The sky is blue and the cloud formation beneath us is interesting, I guess. I'm not the sort of man who spends hours gazing at a nice view. Unless that nice view is of a petite brunette, it seems, because I'm having trouble taking my eyes off Eliza.
As someone emerges from the galley behind me, I get to my feet. Seeing it's only Francesca, my flight attendant, I relax. I'd completely forgotten she was on board.
"Can I get you anything, Adriano?" she asks. "Champagne, perhaps?"
"No." My response was more abrupt than I intended. Francesca is a good employee and I'd never let a guest on my plane bark at her like that. "Thank you."
"We also have a very nice Barolo from Casa di Lupo."
That is tempting. My cousin Lorenzo, who’s Damiano’s youngest brother, owns a vineyard in Tuscany. He spends almost all of his time there these days, largely relinquishing his mafia responsibilities to my half-brother, Benito, who also seems to have developed a fascination for viniculture.
I swear if Damiano doesn't get a grip up there, everyone will have gone legitimate in a decade. I'm not opposed to the legal aspects of our business, but if you chained me to a desk, I'd go mad with boredom inside of a week.
"Let's save that for another time. Bring me a bottle of water." As she turns to go back to the kitchen, I place a hand on her arm. "On second thoughts I'll get it myself. You put your feet up. Have you finished that thriller you were reading?"
"Yes. I'm on the sequel now." She glances toward the front of the cabin. "What about your guest?"
I shake my head. "She's unworthy of your attention."
It's probably my imagination since it would be hard to hear over the noise of the engines but I think for a moment Eliza lets out a sound of distress. The thought she might have overheard me and been upset bothers me more than it should.
I follow Francesca through the door at the back of the cabin. While she retrieves her book from her bag, I fetch two bottles of water.
"We won't need you again," I tell my pretty blonde flight attendant.
She nods, understanding that I mean for her to stay out of my way. Francesca is nothing if not discreet. Leaving her, I take the bottles of water to the front of the cabin and go to sit next to Eliza. She turns to face me, her expression conveying a question I don't have an answer for. I don't know why I came to sit with her either.
I hold a bottle out to her and she takes it.
“It’s plastic," she says as she taps the side of the bottle. “Were you afraid I’d smash it in your face?"
Her eyes widen as she realizes what she just said.
My jaw tightens. "Like your friends did to Gabriele, you mean?"
She swallows hard. "No, I didn't… Was he hurt badly?"
"He had a broken bottle dragged down his face. What do you think?"
She closes her eyes for several seconds and when she opens them again I see her lashes are damp.
"I didn't know they'd do that to him."
"No? What did you think, that they'd kill him cleanly? A single gunshot to the back of the head and it would all be over?"
Eliza shrinks back in her seat. She shakes her head.
"I didn't think they wanted to kill him."
She's either lying or she's totally fucking naive. What else would two vicious thugs do to a man they believed was standing in their way? Something else to tackle her about later.
