What had happened? Then it struck me—Massimo was… My heart started racing, and all the devices surrounding me began whining. A doctor appeared in the room, followed by a nurse and Domenico.
I noticed my young assistant and started crying. Wracked by great sobs, I couldn’t say a word. I coughed, sputtered, and choked, waving my arms in panic. The door opened and a figure appeared in the threshold: Massimo.
He passed everyone and fell to his knees next to me, taking my hand and snuggling his face against it, looking at me with eyes filled with fear and exhaustion.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Baby, I—”
I put my hand against his lips.
Not here. Not now. Tears rolled down my face, but they were tears of happiness.
“Madam,” the man in the white scrubs said, glancing at the medical report hanging from the bed frame. “We’ve had to do a carotid revascularization. The state you were in was a threat to your life. We’ve had to insert a tube into your body. That’s why you have a patch in your groin. Through the tube, we’ve inserted a guide wire into your carotid artery that allowed us to clear it. That’s the short version, anyway. Despite your perfect knowledge of English, without walking you through all the specialist medical jargon, I wouldn’t be able to explain the procedure in detail. But I don’t think that is strictly necessary. What matters is that we’ve made it.”
I could hear his words, but my eyes were fixed on Massimo. Nothing else mattered. He was here—alive and well!
* * *
“Can you hear me, Laura?” I felt someone raising my eyelids. “Don’t do this to me or he’ll kill me.”
I opened my eyes slowly. I was lying on the rug, with Domenico nervously looking down at me.
“Thank God,” he said as I started reacting.
“What happened?” I croaked, disoriented.
“You lost consciousness again. It’s good I had the pills in the drawer. Are you feeling well?”
“Where’s Massimo? I want to see him now!” I cried, trying to push myself up. “You said you’ll take me to him anytime I want. Well, I want it right now.”
Domenico studied me, as if searching for an answer to my question.
“I can’t,” he breathed. “I don’t know what happened, but something went terribly wrong. Remember, Laura—the media doesn’t tell the whole story. But you have to go back to Poland today. These are Massimo’s orders. It’s for your own safety. The car is already waiting. You have your apartment ready in Warsaw and an account in the Virgin Islands. Use the money however you want.”
I stared at him, terrified, unable to believe him. He went on.
“All the documents, credit cards, and keys have been packed. A driver will pick you up and drive you to your new place. You have a car in the garage, and all your things will be sent from Sicily to Warsaw, according to your guidelines—”
“Is he alive?” I cut in. “Tell me, Domenico, or I’ll lose it.”
The young Italian went silent then, thinking.
“He’s moving, that’s for sure. Mario, his consigliere, is with him. So there’s a chance he’s alive.”
“What do you mean moving?” I asked, frowning. “Can they both be…” I trailed off, afraid of voicing the word “dead.”
“Don Massimo has a transmitter implanted into the inside of his left hand. A small chip, just like yours,” he said, touching my left bicep. “We know where he is at all times.”
For a moment I got lost in thought, absently fingering the little tube in my arm.
“So what is this, really?” I asked, feeling the anger rising in me again. “A contraceptive implant or a transmitter?”
Domenico didn’t reply, as if he just realized I had no idea what I’d been implanted with. He only sighed heavily and pushed himself to his feet, pulling me with him.
“You’ll take a public plane. It’ll be safer this way. Now get moving. We have to go,” he said, lugging my suitcases from the closet. “The less you know, the better, Laura.”
Then he turned his back on me and disappeared behind the door.
For a long while I kept still, thinking about all the things I had heard. Despite the fury I was feeling, I was grateful to Massimo for taking care of everything. The thought that I might never see him again, that he might never touch me again, made my eyes tear up. The black thoughts soon lost the battle with hope, though, and I felt sure that he was alive. I knew I’d come back here one day. I packed my things, and an hour later, I was already on the plane. Domenico stayed in the mansion. He said he couldn’t go with me. I was alone again.
The flight was short, even with the transfer in Milan. I don’t know if it was the pills the young Italian had given me, or the apathy I descended into, but my fear of flying vanished. Leaving the terminal, I noticed a man holding a card with my name on it.
“I’m Laura Biel,” I said in English. The power of habit.
“Good day. My name is Sebastian,” the man said, and I grimaced, hearing Polish.
A couple of weeks ago I would have given everything to be able to talk in Polish with anyone, but now it only reminded me where I was and what had happened. My nightmare turned fairy tale had ended, and I was back at square one. There was a black Mercedes S-class parked by the entrance. Sebastian walked over to the car and opened the back door for me. We drove off.
It was September and the air was getting cold and smelled of the fall. I slid the window down and inhaled it. I don’t think I had ever felt this bad in my entire life. The sadness and despair made even the hair on my head ache, and any reason was good to drown in tears anew. I didn’t want to see anyone, talk to anyone, eat… or live.
We left the airport behind and the car headed toward the center of town. Oh God, not downtown… When we turned toward the district of Mokotów, I felt relieved. The car entered a closed-off residential estate and parked next to a low apartment building. The driver got out and opened the door for me, passing me my hand luggage. For a while I sat, rummaging through it, until I found an envelope labeled Home. There were keys there, as well as an address.
“I’ll bring your bags upstairs and the car with the rest should be here anytime now,” Sebastian said, offering me a hand.
I stepped out and headed to the door. When I reached it, another car stopped by the building. The driver exited and started to remove my things from the car.
I entered the hall and went to the reception, where a young man was waiting.
“Hello, I’m Laura Biel.”
“Welcome. I’m glad you’ve arrived. Your apartment is ready. It’s on the fourth floor, fifth door on the left. Would you like me to help you with the bags?”
“No, thanks. The driver will manage.”
“See you, then!” the boy called out as I left, sending me a wide grin.
A moment later, I was in the elevator, going up to the top floor. I pushed the key into the lock with the number I had found in the envelope and entered the apartment. The first thing I noticed was a beautiful living room with windows spanning all the way up to the next floor. Everything was dark and modern—I could feel Massimo’s hand in the decor.
The drivers brought me my things and disappeared, leaving me completely alone. The apartment was elegant and cozy. A large part of the living room was occupied by a black corner sofa made of soft Alcantara, with a white, fluffy rug laid out beneath it. There was a glass coffee table next to it, and the wall had a huge flat-screen TV on it. Next to that, there was the entrance to the bedroom, which housed a large fireplace surrounded with copper plates. As I entered deeper into the room, I saw a modern bed with LED lighting—it looked as if it was levitating. There was also a door to the closet and a bathroom with an enormous bathtub.
I went back to the living room and switched on the TV. The news channel. I opened my hand luggage and sat down on the rug, leafing through all the envelopes. Credit cards, documents, information. The last one contained a car key with three letters on it: BMW. To my surprise, I di
scovered that I was actually the owner of both the apartment and the car. After reading some more papers, I also found out that the seven-digit bank account was also mine. Why would I want all that if he wasn’t with me, though? Was this his way of making those few weeks up to me? The way I felt now, I should have paid him for all the wonderful moments.
When I was finished with unpacking my bags, it was already evening. I was in no mood to stay here on my own. I took my phone, the car documents, and key, and took the elevator to the garage. I found the parking spot with the same number as my new apartment and discovered it was occupied by a large white SUV. I slid the key into its slot, and the headlights flared. He couldn’t find anything safer and more ostentatious, I thought, clambering up to the bright leather interior. I pressed start and drove across the garage, looking for the exit.
I knew Warsaw pretty well, and I liked to drive around it at times, passing streets and avenues, mindlessly turning here and there. An hour later, I stopped by the house of my best friend, whom I hadn’t talked to for weeks. I couldn’t go anywhere else, so I just tapped in the entrance code, went upstairs, stopped at her door, and rang the doorbell.
We had been friends since we were five. She was like a sister to me. Sometimes younger, sometimes older, depending on the occasion. She was a hot brunette with an attractively curvy body. Men loved her. I don’t know if it was because of her vulgarity, her promiscuity, or maybe her perfect face. Olga was definitely a beautiful woman with an exotic charm. She was half Armenian, and her Eastern genes gave her sharp facial features and—which I envied her the most—an olive hue to her skin.
Olga had never worked. She liked to make maximum use of the effect she had on men. Always a proponent of breaking stereotypes, especially those saying that a woman with many partners is a whore, she had a peculiar deal with men: she gave them what they wanted, and they gave her money in return. She was not a hooker—more like a mistress to men bored with ordinary, stupid girls. Most of her partners were deeply in love with her, but she didn’t know what love was. She didn’t want to change that, either. Olga was currently seeing an influential man, an owner of a big cosmetics company who didn’t have the time or inclination to form any sort of serious relationship with anyone. So she accompanied him to official parties and dinners and massaged his head when he was tired. He, on the other hand, provided her with all the luxuries and comforts she could think of. From an outsider’s perspective, it was a real relationship, but neither of them would ever admit that.
“Fuck me! Laura!” Olga exclaimed as she saw me in the doorway. “I’ll kill you one of these days! I thought somebody kidnapped you. Come in, what are you waiting for?”
She grabbed me by the arm and pulled me inside.
“I’m sorry… I had to…” I stammered, and my eyes watered.
Olga froze, looking at me, terrified. She wrapped an arm around me and led me to the living room.
“Somehow I feel you could use a drink,” she said, and a moment later we were sitting on her rug with a bottle of wine between us.
“Martin came to see me,” she said, sending me a suspicious look. “He was asking for you. Told me what happened. That you disappeared, leaving him a letter. And then you came back before him and took all your stuff from his apartment. Jesus, Laura, what happened there? I wanted to call you, but I was sure you’d do it yourself as soon as you wanted to talk.”
I watched her, sipping my wine and growing certain that I couldn’t tell her the truth.
“I just had enough of all that ignorance. Besides, I fell in love.” I raised my eyes and sent her a look. “I know how that sounds, so I don’t want to talk about it. I need to get my shit together.”
I knew she knew I wasn’t telling her everything, but she was my friend and she always understood when I didn’t want to spill everything.
“Okay,” she snapped, flustered. “So, how was it? Everything in order? Do you have a place to live? Need anything?” She spewed questions one after the other.
“I’m renting a place from a guy I know. A large apartment. But he had to leave in a hurry and needed to leave it to someone he trusted.”
“Cool, that’s settled, then. How about work?”
She wouldn’t back down that easily, it seemed.
“I have a few options, but I need to focus on myself for now,” I muttered, playing with my glass. “I need to get some things in order first, but it’s going to be all right. Can I stay the night? I don’t want to drink and drive.”
Olga burst out laughing and hugged me.
“Sure thing. When did you get a car?”
“I got it with the apartment,” I replied, pouring us another glass. We sat and talked about the events of the last month late into the night. I told her about the charms of Sicily—the food, the alcohol, the shoes. After downing half of the second bottle, Olga asked, “All right, how about him? Tell me something about him. I’m going crazy here, pretending I’m not curious!”
Flashes of all the times I’d spent with Massimo whirled through my head. How I saw him naked for the first time, when he joined me in the shower. Our shopping spree and the moments on his yacht. Our dance at the banquet and that last night, after which he disappeared.
“He’s,” I began, putting my glass down, “special, commanding, haughty, tender, handsome, and very caring. Imagine your typical alpha male, who can’t suffer any disobedience and always knows what he wants. Then add in a protector and guardian, with whom you always feel like a little girl. And finally mix in the fulfillment of all your sexual fantasies. And if that’s not enough, he’s six three, has not an ounce of fat on him, and looks like a sculpture made by God himself. Small ass, huge shoulders, wide chest… That’s Massimo,” I concluded, shrugging.
“Holy fuck,” Olga said, “that sounds perfect. But, what about him?”
For a while I wondered what to tell her, but nothing smart came to my head.
“Well, we need time to think this through. Nothing’s simple with him. He’s from a wealthy Sicilian family. All traditional. And they don’t normally approve of relationships with outsiders,” I replied, grimacing.
“You’re in over your head,” Olga said, gulping her wine. “When you talk about him, you light up.”
I didn’t want to talk about the Man in Black anymore. Each memory hurt, because I knew we might not see each other again.
“Let’s go to sleep. I need to go to my parents’ tomorrow.”
“All right, but promise you’ll go somewhere with me on Saturday.”
I frowned.
“Come on! It’ll be fun. We’ll spend a day at a spa and go to town in the evening. Party! Party!” she cried, jumping up and down.
Her glee and excitement only made me feel guilty about leaving her alone for so long in the first place.
“It’s Monday today, you know, but okay. Let’s have it your way. I’m reserving the weekend for you.”
CHAPTER 12
The drive to my parents’ took only a short time, despite the more than ninety miles that divided us. I didn’t even have the time to think of what I’d say to them. I decided not to upset Mom anymore and just go with the lie Massimo had come up with.
I parked in the driveway and got out of the car.
“You vanish for a month and return in a car like that? How much do they pay you back there?” I heard my dad’s amused voice. “Welcome home, honeybee,” he said, hugging me tightly.
“Hi, Daddy. It’s a company car,” I explained, returning his embrace. “I’ve missed you.”
Feeling his warmth and hearing his voice, so full of love, made my eyes water again. I felt like a little girl all of a sudden. I guess I still was one, deep down, and always ran to my parents with all my problems.
“I don’t know what happened, but I’ll listen if you’d like to tell me,” he said, wiping away my tears.
Dad never pushed. He always waited patiently until I came to him and told him what bothered me.
“Jesus, yo
u’re so thin!”
We separated and I looked in the direction of the veranda, where my breathtaking mom appeared at the door. She was impeccably dressed and wore full makeup. Like always. I was nothing like her. She had long blond hair and grayish-blue eyes. Despite her age, she still looked no more than thirty, and I bet some twenty-year-olds would kill to have a body like hers.
“Mom!” I spun and ran into her arms, crying uncontrollably.
She was my fallout shelter. I knew she’d protect me from the world. Despite her overprotectiveness, she was my best friend. Nobody knew me like she did.
“See, I told you that trip wasn’t a good idea,” she said, stroking my hair. “You’re crying again. Why are you crying?”
I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t really know.
“I just missed you two. I knew I’d be able to let go of all those emotions crowding in my head.”
“You keep crying like that, your eyes will swell up and you’d have to cry all over again tomorrow when you see yourself in the mirror. Did you take your pills? We don’t want any drama around here,” she said, flicking the hair off my face.
“I did. They’re in my bag,” I replied, wiping my nose.
“Tom.” She turned to my dad. “Grab us some tissues and make tea, would you?”
Dad smiled gently and went inside, while we sat down in soft recliners in the garden.
“So?” Mom asked, lighting a cigarette. “Will you tell me what this is about and why I had to wait so long for you to return?”
I sighed heavily, knowing this conversation wouldn’t be easy. I knew I wouldn’t be able to avoid it, though.
“Mom, I told you I had to fly a bit for my work in Sicily. I needed to get back to Italy for a while and it took longer than I expected. But for now, I’m staying in Poland. At least until the end of September. The company has branches here, too, so I can work in Poland. Besides, I have Italian lessons in Warsaw. So don’t worry, I won’t run off tomorrow. The company cares for me.” I nodded at the BMW parked in the driveway. “They’ve also rented an apartment for me and given me a credit card.”
365 Days Page 17