by A. Zavarelli
His concession prickles me, and I can’t help wondering who the hell Marianna is. Does he like her? Does he mean what he just said, or is he pacifying her?
“You will?” Her voice rises with excitement. “Oh, Alessio, you’ll see. She’s amazing. What about this weekend? I could arrange for you to take her out on the boat? Or dinner downtown? What do you think?”
He sighs. “I think I haven’t slept all night, and I can’t make any plans right now. I need to take a shower. Can you just wait for me downstairs? Angelina will make you a cup of coffee.”
“Okay,” she answers with a smile in her voice. “I’ll wait for you in the dining room.”
I fling myself around the corner as the sound of her footsteps approach the door. Taking the stairs as quickly and quietly as I can, I make good time. Her heels are so loud they seem to echo right behind me. This flight of stairs didn’t seem quite so long last night. Now, it feels like an eternity until I get to the bottom. When I do, I glance over my shoulder long enough to see her rounding the landing. I dart back to my room, relieved I left the door cracked. I shut myself inside with a soft click, hoping she didn’t notice, but by the pause of her heels on the second floor, I’m guessing she might have. Not that it matters. I already have a target on my back, apparently. My most important concern right now is finding that knife before Angelina does.
My eavesdropping didn’t leave me much time to get ready. I don’t want to miss a second of whatever’s about to transpire downstairs, and I need to be on guard. There isn’t time for a shower, so I wash my face and the mess between my thighs from Alessio’s hands, trying not to think about it. I can unpack everything that happened later. Right now, I need to focus.
I dress and pull my hair into a bun in record time. My teeth are brushed hastily, and makeup applied as neatly as I can manage with my heart nearly beating out of my chest. I’m not sure what it is about that woman, apart from her obvious desire to see me gone, but something is prickling at my anxiety. People often talk about bad energy, and it comes to mind when I think of her. I didn’t have to hear what she said about me to feel this pit in my gut. I’ve had it before, and it didn’t lead me astray, but it didn’t protect me either. I know Gwen is bad news. I just need time to figure out why.
I close my door behind me and walk quietly to Nino’s room. When I open his door, I’m surprised to find him on the bed watching cartoons. It appears he woke early and took it upon himself to get ready. When he sees me, he smiles, and I return it eagerly. If there is one thing I know in all of this mess, it’s that I will never tire of seeing that beautiful face.
I sign to tell him good morning, and he does the same in return.
Breakfast? I ask.
He nods, sliding across the large bed with the out-of-place alien comforter to jump onto the bench below. Admittedly, the room looks a little strange with the comforter and the painting Alessio chose as the only bright pieces amongst everything else. But Nino is happy, and that’s all that matters.
He takes my hand in his without prompting, and together, we exit to the hall and walk downstairs. We only manage to make it to the foyer before Gwen comes out to greet us. Her eyes cut over me again and then move to Nino.
“Nino!” She shrieks. “Come here, my little lamb. Give your grandmother a hug.”
Grandmother? I’m trying to digest that information when Nino’s grip on me tightens. When I glance down at him, he’s staring at her with obvious discomfort.
“Nino,” she says, her voice a little firmer this time. “Don’t be rude. You should be happy to see me. Now give me a smile and a hug before you upset me.”
He looks up at me, his eyes betraying his reluctance. Nino isn’t overly affectionate. He holds my hand, but he likes to keep to himself. He’s quiet and introspective, and if Gwen is truly his grandmother, as she claims, she should know that about him.
You don’t have to, I sign to him. If you don’t like it.
His brows draw together as he replies. I don’t want to.
Gwen watches the interaction between us with hawk-like attention. “What are you doing?”
I glance down at Nino reassuringly, then retrieve my phone to write out a message for her.
Nino doesn’t feel like smiling right now, and he doesn’t want to be hugged. I told him he doesn’t have to.
Her eyes are practically spitting flames as she listens to the message. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Nino. I glance down at him and sign. Can you wait for me at the breakfast table?
He nods, skirting around Gwen while she watches him go in disbelief. Then she turns her venomous gaze back to me.
“What do you think you’re doing turning my grandson against me?”
I’m not turning anyone against you, I write. He expressed his feelings about it quite clearly. He did not want to smile, and he did not want a hug. I will not force him to mask his emotions or show affection if he doesn’t feel like it.
“He will respect me,” she shrieks. “You have no idea how our world works, and I’m telling you now, I am not a woman you want to cross. I won’t stand for this.”
Regardless of how your world may work, Nino is entitled to body autonomy. His emotions are valid, and when he’s in my care, I won’t force him to perform for the benefit of anyone. I am sorry if what happened hurt your feelings, but I stand by what I said. I’m here to look after Nino, and that includes his mental wellbeing. I do not subscribe to outdated philosophies that children should be raised to mask their emotions for the sake of an adult’s ego.
She listens to my response and scoffs, clearly not getting it. “He is a Sovereign Son. He’ll have to do plenty of things that make him uncomfortable. You can’t even wrap your simple-minded head around that notion.”
“Is there a problem here?” Alessio’s voice alerts me to his presence behind me. I didn’t even hear him coming. I turn to face him as Gwen answers for the both of us.
“Yes, there’s a problem. This fucking nanny is trying to turn Nino against me!”
“Gwen.” Alessio narrows his eyes at her before turning to me in question. “What is the issue?”
“The issue is she’s a devious little snake, Alessio,” Gwen barks. “Did someone cut out her tongue, because she couldn’t learn to hold it? She needs to understand her place.”
“Enough!” Alessio roars, shocking all of us into stillness. I’ve never heard him raise his voice, but right now, it’s clear he’s not mincing words. “If you have an issue, you can take it up with me in private.”
Gwen considers it, her eyes drifting back to me. I think she knows there isn’t anything else she can say in this situation that will make her sound rational at this point, but she’s not ready to accept her defeat.
“Natalia, can you please assist Nino with his breakfast?” Alessio asks. “We’ll be in shortly.”
I nod and walk away, listening as I go, but they are both quiet until I’m out of earshot. There’s no way I can hide here with Angelina in the kitchen. When she sees me, she snickers, and it’s clear she heard the entire confrontation.
“That’s what you get,” she mutters under her breath.
Ignoring her, I head for the dining room to find Nino looking quite worried as he sits at the large table alone. His cheeks are stained with tears, and it breaks me to see them.
Hey. I kneel before him. What’s wrong, little prince?
“Did I get you in trouble?” he sniffles.
No. I shake my head and write him a text note. You don’t ever have to worry about that, okay? I’m sorry you had to hear that yelling. It must have been scary.
He winces. “She yells a lot. I don’t like it.”
It’s okay to say you don’t like it, I reassure him. And it’s okay to say no to a hug if you don’t want one. If you would rather give a high five or handshake or even a wave, you can do that. But if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. If someone else gets upset about that, it’s not your fault. It’s your b
ody, and you’re the only one who can say what you do or don’t want. You did nothing wrong. You can still tell friends or family you love them with words if you prefer.
“But I don’t love her,” he whispers. “She always tells me I should come live with her when I don’t want to. She drinks wine for breakfast, and smears lipstick on my face when she kisses me.”
I offer him a sad smile, and there’s only one thing I can think to say. Have you talked to Alessio about this?
He shakes his head. “I don’t want to make him mad.”
Does Alessio get mad at you often? I ask, knowing that he doesn’t. I want to talk Nino through this to show him that his fears are bigger than reality. There’s a major disconnect between them, and neither of them knows how to bridge that gap.
He casts his eyes to the table and shrugs. “I don’t know. He doesn’t yell, but I think he could get mad.”
Why is that?
“He looks grumpy all the time.”
Despite my efforts to remain serious, I laugh silently. There’s no lie in what he’s telling me. Nino peeks up at me, a tiny smile curling his lips when he sees me laughing.
You know, I think some people just look that way. Most of the time it isn’t because of us. Sometimes, they might be busy or have a lot on their mind. They might even be sad, but they look angry to keep others away.
Why? Nino signs, his brows furrowed with concern.
Well, what do you do when you’re sad?
He considers it for a moment. “I like to draw.”
Do you ever tell anyone you’re sad?
He shakes his head, and I wish I hadn’t been right about that.
Why not?
“I don’t know,” he murmurs.
It can be scary to admit when you’re feeling a big emotion. It’s not always easy, and adults might hide it too. I think Alessio looks mad sometimes because he’s really sad. He doesn’t tell anyone either, but it’s good to say how you feel. You just told me. Did it make things better or worse?
“Better,” he says. “I like talking to you.”
That’s good. I want you to know you can talk to me any time about anything. I’ll always listen, okay?
Okay. He signs and then surprises me when he leans down and hugs me. It’s the first time he’s ever done that, and knowing that he doesn’t give hugs freely, it makes me feel … too much.
I’m choking up when Alessio walks in and sees us that way, followed by a somber Gwen. I don’t know what happened during their conversation, but she looks well and truly put in her place, and I can only hope that means I’m not fired.
Nino pulls away when he sees them, hops down from his chair as I rise, and walks over to Alessio. Then, he shocks all of us when he leans in and hugs him too, grasping at his waist, which is about as high as he can reach. Alessio looks visibly distraught and confused when his gaze collides with mine. I make a gesture with my hands as a signal to hug him back. It’s such a simple thing, but Alessio has to be told how to do it, and that’s how I know I’m right about him. We learn affection from our families, and whatever the case may be, it’s quite obvious Alessio missed out on some or all of those lessons. I don’t want to empathize with him after everything that’s transpired today, but it’s hard not to when I recall what Gwen said.
He’s lost everyone he ever loved.
I still don’t know what that means, but I want to. That is until I remember his words from earlier about me being a mistake. Those words seem to play in my head repeatedly as we all sit down for the most uncomfortable breakfast ever.
I help Nino make his selections from the food on the table while Gwen starts prattling on about some event at something called IVI. I’m not fully listening until it occurs to me that Nino mentioned IVI. He said that’s where Alessio took him on the nights they have a meeting that’s not on the schedule. I’m curious if that’s some type of headquarters for their mafia organization or whatever Alessio would refer to it as. It’s the same principle, right? They are powerful. Dangerous. Criminal behavior takes place. So, tomayto, tomahto.
“Marianna’s going to look so gorgeous at the gala,” Gwen says, interrupting my silent stream of thoughts. “Just wait until you see the dress she chose, Alessio. You’re going to love it.”
When I glance up, she’s wearing a smirk, and Alessio is staring at me uncomfortably. I maintain that eye contact for a few seconds longer than I should, and I’m afraid my emotions are all over my face.
He doesn’t belong to me, so I don’t know why it matters. This morning, I was planning on killing him. If he thinks I’m a mistake and wants to go to a gala with another woman, it shouldn’t make any difference to me. In fact, the busier he is, the better it will be for me. He did me a favor by telling the truth. We are from two different worlds. There is no reality where he’s going to take me to his super-secret organization as a date. I’m the hired staff, and he is the enemy. He just hasn’t realized it yet.
I focus on eating the small croissant I chose as quickly and politely as I can manage. I distract myself by trying to figure out how I’m going to make it up to the third level before Angelina does. Right now, I know she’s still in the kitchen, where she remains during breakfast service. At least I can count on that, but I have no idea what Alessio’s plans are for the day. For all I know, he might be staying home, in which case, I’m definitely screwed.
Alessio gives me a curious glance as I finish in record time and set a napkin on my plate. I know the polite thing to do is wait for everyone else, and that’s the expectation, but I can’t chance it. I retrieve my phone and start writing.
May I be excused briefly? I need to use the powder room.
He gives me a tight nod. “I’ll look after Nino.”
“Take your time,” Gwen calls after me as I go.
I don’t dignify her with a response, but I do glance over my shoulder to see Alessio’s. I’m not even certain he heard her because his eyes are on me, brows pinched tightly, jaw set. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, but I don’t stick around to find out.
There’s a bathroom on the first floor, of course, but I head for the stairs. If anyone questions me later, I can say I needed to take my vitamin, which is in my room. If by chance I’m caught on the third level by Angelina or even Alessio, I’ll just have to tell them I thought I left my second phone there. That won’t go over well with Angelina, but there’s a good chance Alessio wouldn’t question it. Unless, of course, he does have cameras on that level, in which case, I’m dead no matter what.
My chest feels like it’s being squeezed in a vise as I quietly make it up to the second landing, pausing for a moment to check my surroundings and then rushing up to the third. I’m as quick and quiet as I can be and oddly relieved when I find Alessio’s blood-stained door is still cracked open. It hasn’t been cleaned yet, so at least on that front, I’m good.
The covers on his bed are still in disarray from what happened between us this morning. I do my best to delay thinking about it while I head straight for the middle pillow and slip my hand beneath it. Only, when I do, I come up empty.
Shit. It’s not there.
I remove the pillow completely, scrambling to feel around the bedding on the chance that it was jarred from its place while I was sleeping or when Alessio was grinding all over me. But I can’t find it. At about this point, I realize there’s a narrow gap between the bedframe and the wall. When I lean over to peek down inside, I’m horrified to see the blade of the knife wedged deep into that tight space.
I know it’s useless, but I try squeezing my hand down into the gap, only to pull back in frustration a second later. It’s way too narrow. I can’t go in from underneath because there’s not enough room. There’s no way I could get the knife without completely pulling the massive bed frame away from the wall, and that’s not going to happen without making a lot of noise on the marble floor.
There’s a tightness in my throat I can’t seem to shake as I search around for something, anyth
ing, that can help me in this situation. Right now, there’s no possibility of me retrieving it, and I doubt Angelina will be moving the bed any time soon. On the off chance she glances down there when she’s making it, she could see it. My only hope is to hide it.
I don’t have time to come up with a better plan. I grab a pair of Alessio’s socks from his dresser and dart back to the bed, leaning over and stuffing them down as far as I can get them. There’s a very small likelihood Angelina will notice the dark socks against the dark panel without looking closely. I’ve bought myself some time, but I don’t know how much. Regardless, it’s going to have to do until I can figure something out.
13
Alessio
“Good morning, Nino.”
“Good morning.” He offers me a small smile, and I’m still not quite sure how to handle it. I make an attempt to smile back, but I know it’s awkward and stiff. He doesn’t hold it against me.
I don’t know what Natalia said to him that day Gwen was here, but Nino has been much more receptive to conversation with me, and then there are the hugs. The first one I thought was a fluke, but by the fifth, I realized this was a new thing. One I don’t mind, if I’m honest.
Natalia glances up from her plate to offer me a forced acknowledgment, and I nod at her. It’s been like this for four days now. We haven’t talked. We can barely look at each other. But it doesn’t stop me from thinking about her every night when I fall into bed exhausted.
Logically, I know I need to have a conversation with her at some point, but my clients have kept me busy all week. After the shit show when I was ambushed during what was supposed to be a simple contract, I’ve been tracking down everyone who has even a chance of being involved and eliminating them. It isn’t often that shit goes sideways with my clients, but every once in a blue moon, someone catches word somehow that I’ve been hired, and they prepare for it. The clients who end up getting a visit from me are either traitors to The Society or affiliated with some other criminal network. It’s no surprise that they are paranoid as fuck already, but I can honestly say I wasn’t expecting to walk into the target’s house that night to be greeted by eight hired morons. In the end, I killed four of them and the target before the other four fled. Now, they’ve been dealt with too, but at the expense of my time and energy.