by Jayne Castel
The light had almost faded when Adriano pulled up outside Sabrina’s building. To her surprise, he climbed off the bike when she did, and faced her. As she took off her helmet, he took off his own, waiting while she fumbled with the latch under her chin.
She passed him the helmet. “Thank you, Adriano—that was fun.”
He smiled, and her stomach fluttered. Then, he stepped forward. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
Sabrina gave a nervous smile. He was standing very close; it was getting difficult to breathe. Her pulse raced as he reached out and stroked her cheek. The contact sent a shiver of pure lust through her. She saw his pupils dilate and realized the touch had affected him similarly.
This guy is good.
The burgeoning heat between them was threatening to engulf her. It was taking all her self-control not to throw herself at him.
Sabrina stepped back from Adriano and inhaled shakily. She needed to put some distance between them before she did something she regretted. “Ciao.”
He inclined his head, still smiling, although his expression was unreadable. “See you at work, Sabrina.”
Inside the cool interior of her flat, Sabrina shut the door and leaned her back against it.
It’s a dangerous game you’re playing.
Still, if flirting with Adriano Bellini was what she had to do in order to get the information she needed, it was a game she’d continue. Sure, if her suspicions about the woman she’d seen him with were correct, he was a cheater. Maybe, if she got closer to him, she’d be able to prove it.
Sabrina went to the fridge, poured herself a glass of white wine, and crossed to the table. Then, she switched on her computer and brought up her email. As she’d expected, there was another email from Helen Bellini. When she read it, Sabrina’s good mood dissipated.
Still nothing to report? You have two more weeks, Helen threatened. After that, if you don’t have anything, you’re fired.
Sabrina sat down at the table and glared at the computer screen. Didn’t Helen realize that these things took time? People didn’t wear their secrets on their sleeves, exposed for all the world to see. Digging up dirt on Adriano was not an overnight process. Two weeks weren’t enough.
Deciding she’d ignore Helen’s email for the moment, Sabrina dug her smartphone out of her bag. She’d recorded the second half of last night’s shift but hadn’t had time to listen to it yet. Sabrina took a sip of wine and brought up Sunday evening’s audio file.
Time to get to work.
The windows were open, letting in the sultry evening air. The smell of wood-fired pizza wafted in as the pizzeria a street away fired up its oven for the night. Sabrina tuned out all other distractions as she listened to the recording. For a bit, she heard nothing but the muffled thud of doors opening and closing, and the tap of someone using a keyboard nearby. Then, twenty minutes in, she struck gold.
A cell phone rang. It wasn’t Adriano’s, as she’d made a note of his ring tone when he’d received the call at lunchtime. This ring tone had a low, macho bass—a youth’s phone. Daniele answered it on the second ring.
“Pronto.”
There was a long pause before the young man spoke again, and when he did, Sabrina heard the agitation in his voice.
“I’m working on it, I just need time.” There was a moment’s pause before he spoke again. “No, tonight’s too soon … Wednesday. Give us until then.”
She could hear Daniele’s breathing now, quickening.
“It will be inside a stack of blue crates, just inside the delivery bay … you’ll have to pull up the iron shutter to gain access. We’ll leave them unlocked.”
Another pause followed and Sabrina slowly exhaled. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath. Finally, her patience had paid off. This was what she’d been waiting for, what Helen desperately needed. Judging from the argument she’d witnessed between Daniele and Adriano the other day—Adriano was involved in this too. She’d also noted Daniele’s use of ‘we’ and ‘us’ during his phone call, further implicating his boss. She smiled at Daniele’s next words.
“Yes, this Wednesday … I promise it’ll be there.”
Chapter Twelve
Sabrina could hardly wait for her first shift of the week—Wednesday evening—to begin.
She arrived at La Pasta D’Orata early, humming to herself as she ducked into the cool interior, out of the sweltering afternoon. The heat had settled over Rome in a stifling blanket. The stone buildings and cobbled streets baked under the relentless sun, but then released even more heat after sunset.
“Damn, it’s almost as humid as New York,” she said to Roberto as she helped him lay the tables for the evening service.
He gave her a sympathetic smile. “I hear you. I can’t wait until we close in mid-August. I’m heading straight to the beach.”
Sabrina smiled back, although her gaze was already shifting toward the kitchen. She wondered when Daniele would show his face this evening. The call she’d listened to made everything else click into place. His change in mood, the black eye, and his furtive behavior all last week. He was involved in something illegal, and she was going to find out what.
The restaurant opened its doors shortly after five o’clock, and tourists started to arrive in droves, escaping from the oppressive heat to sit under the massive rotating fans that circulated overhead inside the restaurant. Hurrying from table to table, Sabrina got used to sweating, and tried not to fantasize about standing under a cold shower. The humidity made it hard to breathe.
As expected, Daniele was out of sorts when she saw him. He usually laughed and shared a joke with his kitchen team, but not this evening. Today, he wore a serious expression that made him appear older. Lost in his own thoughts, he paid little attention to his staff. Sabrina also noted, on her trips to the kitchen, that he often disappeared out the back. Adriano wasn’t around tonight, as he spent Wednesdays at his other restaurant.
Sabrina found it difficult to concentrate on the job this evening. Her thoughts kept returning to the conversation she’d overheard.
What are they up to?
What she’d learned about Adriano during their afternoon together left her in no doubt that he was a forceful, dominant man who didn’t let others stand in the way of getting what he wanted. Had he involved his nephew in something dangerous? She remembered the call he’d taken during their lunch together. Adriano had been annoyed with someone—had it been Daniele?
The evening wore on slowly. For once, Sabrina found herself resenting her new job. She usually enjoyed the hustle of the busy kitchen and restaurant. She loved interacting with diners and seeing the pleasure on their faces as they enjoyed their meals. The restaurant’s reputation as one of Rome’s best eateries had clearly been earned, and she loved being part of that buzz. However, she was distracted tonight. All she could think about was the promise Daniele had made on the phone.
She had to know what he had hidden in the loading bay.
Sabrina waited as late as she dared. She didn’t want the restaurant to empty out completely, as her colleagues would notice her disappearance if she ducked away for a few minutes.
She waited until Daniele was busy in the kitchen and then made her move.
She’d never visited the loading bay before. There had been no reason to—until now. At the end of the long corridor behind the kitchens, she opened the door, fumbled for the light switch to the left of it, and stepped through into a wide concreted space. There was a heavy metal roller door at one end, which was rolled up for deliveries in the mornings. It was far cooler in here than in the restaurant, and Sabrina let out a sigh, breathing in the lingering odor of produce, meat, and fish that arrived here at dawn every day.
Quickly.
Her gaze shifted to the column of blue crates sitting to the right of the roller door. She hurried across to it, skirting a stack of empty wooden pallets. Heart hammering with excitement, she lifted the first crate off the stack.
Nothing.
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Then she lifted the next two and found a blue plastic bag.
What’s he hiding—drugs?
Sabrina’s breathing stilled. If Adriano Bellini was involved in narcotics, she had unwittingly walked into a very dangerous situation. It also meant that if she got proof back to Helen, there would be no way he’d ever get custody of his son.
Hands trembling, she lifted the plastic and rolled it back. Bundles of bank notes—tens, twenties and fifties—sat underneath. There was at least a thousand euros here.
Money laundering? Sabrina dug into her apron pocket for her phone. They might not be drug dealers but this was incriminating nonetheless.
At that moment, the door leading back into the hallway flew open.
Adriano stepped into the loading bay. His gaze pinned her to the spot, although when he spoke, his voice was dead calm.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Sabrina stared back at him, caught off guard by his appearance. He wasn’t even supposed to be here tonight.
Still keeping his gaze upon her, Adriano stalked across the loading bay to where Sabrina stood over the crates. Then, he looked down at the stacks of cash she’d just uncovered, and he went still.
Adriano swore and pushed her aside to get a better look at the money. “Where did you get this?”
Sabrina recovered her wits and turned on him. “Come on—don’t bother pretending you don’t know about this.”
He swiveled to face her, his expression murderous. “What are you talking about?”
“I imagine it came from your safe,” she shot back. “Ask Daniele. He seems to have arranged everything.”
“What are you talking about?”
They stared at each other before a sound behind them made them turn. Daniele stood in the doorway. His face was the color of milk. Upon seeing them standing over the crates, the young man gave a low curse. “Merda.”
A nerve feathered in Adriano’s jaw, the only sign of his anger. “Get in here and explain this,” he ordered. “Now.”
Reluctantly, Daniele came forward, his gaze darting between them. Watching the interaction between the two men, it dawned on Sabrina that Adriano had been telling the truth—he really didn’t have any idea about this.
“Is this money from the safe?” Adriano demanded.
Daniele nodded, looking sick.
“And who are you planning to give it to?”
Daniele swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I didn’t want you to know,” he whispered. “I thought I could handle this on my own.”
“Handle what?” Adriano’s voice held a menacing edge.
Daniele took a step back, his eyes huge on his thin face. “Two weeks ago a guy approached me after work. There’s a new local gang working this area, and he’s a member. He demanded the pizzo.”
Sabrina frowned. She’d heard of the pizzo, protection money that business owners would pay mafia or gangs. She’d only heard of it happening in the south of Italy; she hadn’t realized this sort of thing happened in Rome.
When Adriano didn’t reply, Daniele continued. “I told him no, and I thought it was the last of it—but then a rose-seller turned up in the restaurant the next day. I could see the asshole doing a head-count, so they’d know how much money to ask for, and I knew they hadn’t finished with me.” Daniele broke off here, his gaze returning pleadingly to Adriano. “A couple of days later, three of them cornered me after work. They gave me a black eye and said that if I didn’t pay up they’d torch the restaurant.”
Daniele finished his story and swallowed. A faint sheen of sweat covered his skin and he looked like he was about to throw up. Sabrina was starting to feel sorry for him.
Adriano sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “For god’s sake, Daniele, why didn’t you say anything?”
The young man blinked back tears of shame. “I was trying to prove to you that I could manage the restaurant. When things got out of hand, I was too ashamed to come to you … I’m sorry.”
“You’re an idiot,” Adriano replied, although there was no heat in his voice, “but luckily Sabrina realized what was happening.”
Daniele looked at Sabrina, focusing on her for the first time. “I don’t understand … how did you know?”
Sabrina met his eye and used the first excuse that came to her. “I saw you when I went to use the bathroom.”
His gaze narrowed. “I didn’t see you.”
Sabrina raised her eyebrows, feigning confidence even though she was starting to feel nervous. “You were … distracted.”
Daniele’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve messed things up.” He glanced back at Adriano his face tensing. “What are we going to do? We have to give them the money or they’ll burn this place down.”
Adriano raised an eyebrow and looked over at the stacks of euro notes. “This isn’t the mafia, Daniele. They’re just a group of thugs who got greedy. They thought they’d get rich by demanding the pizzo from restaurants in the center of Rome—we can’t let them get away with it. I have a friend high up in the carabinieri who’ll want to hear about this.”
Daniele blanched. “You can’t go to the police.”
Adriano gave him a cool smile and reached for his phone. “Watch me.”
Two hours later, La Pasta D’Orata closed for the evening.
Sabrina left with the other wait-staff but then deliberately loitered at the far side of the piazza. She was tired but she didn’t intend to go home without seeing how things would play out.
Adriano could have been lying. He and Daniele could have been playing her.
Hidden by the long shadow of a tall renaissance building, she watched Adriano Bellini get on his vintage Vespa and drive away. Only Daniele now remained inside the restaurant. A few minutes later, the young man emerged, pulled down the roller shutters, locked them, and disappeared into the night.
Sabrina checked her phone: 12:30am. Her eyes were gritty with fatigue, and she was thirsty. It was late but she would wait this one out.
Ten minutes later, a scooter entered the piazza. A male, clad in leather, his identity obscured by a helmet, guided his bike across the uneven cobbles, past a group of Japanese tourists who were taking photos of each other by the fountain. Then, he disappeared down the alleyway next to the restaurant—toward the service entrance.
Sabrina glanced around her. No sign of either Adriano or Daniele—or the police. Maybe her suspicions were right …
Two carabinieri cars sped into the square, lights flashing but with their sirens silenced.
The cars pulled up outside the alleyway, which was a dead end. Four officers climbed out. They wore midnight blue uniforms with red stripes down the legs of their pants and a white sash over the front of their jackets—and they all carried side arms.
Sabrina watched them rush into the alleyway, weapons drawn. An excited crowd of tourists and locals had now clustered around the restaurant entrance, but two more carabinieri officers, who remained with the cars, made the onlookers keep their distance. A Japanese tourist started taking photos.
A short time later, the officers returned with a leather-clad young man in handcuffs. One of the carabinieri carried a blue plastic bag. The gang member they’d caught shouted and cursed them as they pushed him into a car.
Sabrina slumped against the wall, the tension of the last few hours going out of her. She felt conflicted. Part of her was relieved Adriano and Daniele hadn’t lied to her, that Daniele had really been a victim of extortion. She was also pleased that at least one member of the gang had been caught, and soon others were likely to be. Adriano was right—they were thugs. However, the other part of her—the PI side—was disappointed. She’d been so close to getting information that would have won Helen Bellini’s case. Victory had been so close, she’d almost tasted it.
With a sigh of defeat, Sabrina pulled herself off the wall and stifled a groan. She felt wrung out, drained. Enough excitement for one night; it was time to go home.
Chapter Thirtee
n
The following evening, Sabrina was halfway through her shift when Adriano approached her. She looked up from clearing a table to find him standing over her, his face unreadable.
“Buonasera, Sabrina.”
She gave him an anxious smile. “Ciao.”
Sabrina had been hoping to avoid Adriano tonight. After yesterday’s excitement, she’d thought it best to keep a low profile at work. The restaurant was busier than ever, and she’d thrown herself into her work in the hope Adriano would ignore her.
No such luck.
“How are you?” he asked.
She straightened up, clutching the dirty dishes she was holding against her like a shield. “Fine—and you?”
Their gazes held for a few long moments.
“Can you come and see me in my office when it slows down later?” he said quietly, his gaze never leaving hers. “I need to speak to you.”
Sabrina nodded, her throat closing in sudden fear. He was even more intimidating than usual this evening.
God help me … he knows.
Adriano flung himself down into his chair. He was exhausted.
After a hectic dinner service, the restaurant had finally quietened down for the evening. Nights like these, he wished he’d chosen another, less-demanding, profession. Running his restaurants; dividing his time between two of them in Rome, while he kept tabs on the others in Milan and New York, sometimes took everything he had.
He unscrewed a bottle of water and drank thirstily. It was hot as hell in the kitchen this evening; one of the chefs had nearly passed out. Daniele wasn’t on form either; he’d been subdued throughout the entire service, although Adriano didn’t blame him.
Daniele had made a huge mistake, one that could have cost all of them dearly. His confidence had taken a beating as well, but that wasn’t a bad thing. Daniele’s cockiness had gotten them into this mess. His nephew was terrified he’d lose his job over this. He’d stopped short at begging for forgiveness but Adriano had seen the fear in his eyes. He didn’t intend to fire him, although it wouldn’t hurt Daniele to sweat a while.