Paula did not let her fear show on her face, but inside, she was terrified. The threat to her life was apparent now, death staring her in the face. “What do you want from me, Mr...?”
“Aleando Mitri,” he introduced himself and then smiled. “Now that we know each other’s names, we can talk. Have a seat.” He gestured at the sofa in front of him, and Paula took the invitation. Inside, she marked the man as strange. Who waited until someone else asked their name before offering them a seat?
“Ms. Bianchi, let me ask once more. What brings you to Italy? I have use for someone like you.” He eyed her with scrutiny.
“Listen here, I have no intention of being used by your kind in any sort of way,” Paula spat. “If that is what you have brought me here for, forget it.”
“You do know who we are, don’t you, Ms. Bianchi?” Aleando reached inside his jacket, and pulled out a silver revolver, placing it on the light brown coffee table in front of him. “Your tone needs work, but you are young and foolish, so I can let that slide.”
Paula gritted her teeth. Who the hell did this man think he was? “Even if you did try to use me, you will attract attention to yourself. People know who I am, and people know who my aunt is-”
“Her I want nothing to do with.” Aleando cut across Paula, looked over her shoulder, and snapped his finger, “Fix us some drinks, Irmina.” He added insult to injury, conversing with the women behind her after cutting her off. “Now, where were we?”
Paula counted to ten in her head before replying. She might have been brought here against her will, but this was just what she needed, a clue to her family’s past. This man was dangerous, she knew, feeling sweat break out over her spine, but he also had the answers she had come here for.
“I came to Italy looking for answers. In fact – “ she leaned back in the comfortable sofa, crossing her legs, “ – you made things easier for me, Mr. Mitri. Perhaps we can help each other out, even.”
“Are you sure about what you are saying? What makes you think I will answer anything to you?” said Aleando.
There was a pop, which Paula assumed was an alcohol bottle being uncorked followed by some glasses clinking. “Is there anything you would like to drink as well?” Aleando casually asked as it was just an afterthought.
“No, I don’t drink during the day.” Paula knew that if he got her drinking, she wouldn’t last. She couldn’t drink like a European. In this situation, knowing her limits was critical.
“Of course, it was just an offer.” Without a word, Irmina placed crystal glass on the table in front of Aleando, half-filled with a transparent liquor. “You should try some Gin while you are here. Us Italians have an exquisite selection of wines.”
“I’m sure,” Paula muttered as her grandfather’s friend took a sip of his beverage. “Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? Why did you bring me here?” she said, levelling her gaze at the man.
4.
Within Memories
Instead of just getting down to brass tacks, Aleando sighed softly. “Young people nowadays are so impatient. Or maybe young people have always been impatient.” He corrected himself. “Leonardo and I went way back. I hope you are not here to find him because you will leave with a sad heart.”
Paula grimaced. She had been told once by her father that her grandfather had passed away before her birth. Any sadness she might have felt had been resolved long ago, but to hear it from this man, that old wound began to throb again, the pain of never having any grandparents. Both her father and mother had been orphans.
“I see. Was he truly mobster?” Paula didn’t have time to blink before Irmina, who had been standing silently till now, flicked a dart onto the table directly in front of her.
“Do not insult Father Bianchi,” Irmina stated. “We are not mobsters. We are family.” Paula met her glare with equal ferocity.
Her grandfather was a criminal, but of course, mafia members did not think that about themselves. They always looked out for each other, and could not stand anyone disrespecting them, from what Paula had surmised for herself. Operating outside the law was just a norm.
“Easy, easy,” Aleando chided. “Let me apologize for her, ordinary people like you only have second-hand perceptions of us.” He was calling Paula ordinary? That was something she hadn’t heard before.
Irmina bowed her head, speaking something in rapid Italian which Paula couldn’t catch. Aleando replied in Italian as well, before the woman plucked her dart back from the table and slid it back up her sleeve.
“She had always been more attached to Leonardo, as you will find out with the passage of time.” Aleando took another sip of his gin. Meanwhile, Paula’s mind was in overdrive at the choice of his words. How long did they intend to keep her here? Were they trying to recruit her, make her a part of their group?
They could definitely do that if they held Megan hostage, which these crooks already had. She had a whole corporation worth more than a billion dollars under her, spanning across the US, Europe, and East Asia.
What was it that these people would desire, money, power? She had a lot of both. But her aunt was her one weakness, and they already had her.
“But coming back to the topic, Ms. Bianchi, what sort of answers do you seek?” Aleando leaned back, making himself comfortable, resting his elbow on the sofa, his fingers on his temple. “Leonardo was family. As his granddaughter, that can also be extended to you if you desire it.”
“That is a very smooth way to bring me into this,” Paula commented.
“But is it effective? Someone like you is valuable not only because of who Paula Lindsay is, but also because of who Paula Lindsay means to me, as the head of this family.” Aleando gazed at her, in an almost hungry way.
“Sorry, but my answer will be the same. I will not be joining anything,” Paula refused.
“And what makes you think you have a choice? You will get answers to all your questions. But to obtain something, you have to give something as well.” Aleando spoke the obvious. “My question to you is, how far are you willing to go to obtain answers? Secrets are only told to family. To give them to anyone else is a betrayal. Even if the trends change, and people forget their values, I will not compromise.” He took another sip, finishing his glass of gin.
Paula was taken aback. She had assumed too much about them. Could the New Yorker really claim to be the granddaughter of Leonardo Bianchi while rejecting everything about him she didn’t have any need for? Could she really have the right to know about him, while judging him?
If the press picked up on her association with the mafia, the gossip rags would have a field day. Paula had made her own fortune legally and honestly. She had always abhorred crime and questionable shortcuts, having seen how her father had risen to the top.
No, she had too much to lose here. But how long would she be unable to go to sleep, haunted by nightmares she could not fully control? Would she stay doomed to never fully understanding the power she had, to make this curse into a gift?
Grandfather Bianchi had seen that Andrew was unsuited to the mafia and left him in New York, and years later when her father graduated university, it still helped him to stand on his own feet. No, if Paula did not want to join the mafia, Leonardo Bianchi would not force her.
“You say you are a man of principle. Would Grandpa want me to join you?” She turned the tables, asking a question instead of giving an answer. Sweat beaded down her forehead, but she raised her chin and looked Aleando Mitri in the eyes, “Do I really have to follow in his footsteps to be the granddaughter of Leonardo Bianchi.”
The mafia head in front of her was silent. He snapped his fingers, and Irmina refilled with glass with his favorite drink. Paula stewed, not liking it one bit, while he took another sip.
“Cigars used to be much better for these dramatic tactics,” Aleando mused. “Too bad they are more hazardous to health than I ca
n afford. Ms. Bianchi, I heard something once that really stuck with me throughout the years.”
“Oh, what might that be?”
“That only a very arrogant man wants his successors to be just like him.” He had a far-off look in his eyes, remembering something Paula couldn’t fathom. All of a sudden, he shook his head, coming back to reality and taking another sip. “Although I heard those words when it was already too late.” Now he was speaking more to himself than to anyone else.
Paula wondered who had said those words which held great value to the man. Could it have been her grandfather himself?
“You truly are his daughter. Tell me, do you dream?” Paula couldn’t breathe. Did this man have knowledge about her power? “The look on your face tells me you do. I have something to offer you then.”
With that, Aleando stood up, and Paula noted that he was easily over six feet. Walking to the back of the room, he pulled out a key from his pocket and opened the drawer of the work desk located there. Taking out a leather-bound journal, he turned around and walked backward, staring more at the book than Paula.
“As I have said, I will not tell you any secret regarding my family. But as the granddaughter of Leonardo Bianchi, I cannot stop you having what is yours without being a hypocrite myself. This is his journal, one of his last material possessions he entrusted to me in case his descendants decided to come looking for their past.”
He placed the thick, black notebook on the table between them, yellows pages and notes sticking out of the journal held securely with a button clasp.
“Thank you,” Paula said softly, picking it up and gingerly running her hand across the cover. It was made from real, genuine leather instead of some synthetic knockoff. This was the thing she had come looking for, she just knew it would shed light on a lot of things.
“Don’t mention it,” Aleando waved it away. “That is all I wanted to give you, because it was yours. Now we have more business between. It is better for both of us to never meet again, isn’t it?”
“You’re right,” Paula admitted. “So, you don’t want me to join your people?”
Aleando looked down, shoulders shaking slightly. If only the woman knew that she was already considered as one of his people. “Leonardo, she truly does not know anything, does she?” he thought to himself.
Paula took his silence as something else, wondering if he laughing at her. Irmina looked at her and answered instead. “We have standards, Ms. Bianchi.” She gave a wry smile. “You would fail all of them.”
“I will take that as a compliment then.” Paula smiled impishly.
“Take them as you wish,” Aleando recovered. “Everyone is different and must be treated according to their nature. Family is meant to nurture, and how can it nurture if it makes a person go against his or her nature?”
“True,” Paula agreed. A huge part of her job was putting people in places they were comfortable in, so that they could challenge and improve themselves. People working their job simply to keep their lifestyle showed up to work to just get things done, instead of giving it their all.
“I believe we have concluded your business here then,” said Aleando, standing up.
Paula followed his action and inquired, “Does that mean I can leave now?”
“Yes. We will escort you back. Irmina, fetch Iglesias for me.” At Aleando’s orders, the woman left, quickly coming back with the blond who had kidnapped Paula in the first place.
“Escort the lady back to her hotel,” Aleando ordered his men. Paula clutched her newly found treasure to her chest, her grandfather’s journal as she stood up. The old man smiled, giving off a grandfatherly aura.
The man, Iglesias waited for her to walk up to him, before taking out her cellphone. Paula took it graciously from the man’s hand, even though she felt like snatching it from his grip. “Thank you for holding onto this.”
“No problem,” said Iglesias, “Your aunt is safe and back at your hotel as well, in case you wanted to know.”
Oh, right. Megan was a cloud waiting to burst over her head the moment she got back. Paula stifled a groan, momentarily contemplating whether she should just join the mafia to get away from her aunt’s wrath.
5.
Letters That Were Never Sent
Megan’s leg felt weak as she was led back to her hotel room, the door closing behind her. The Mafiosi woman who had led her back here, only had to tell her to go back and wait, and Megan complied.
Her kidnapper follower her into her deluxe hotel room, charming all the staff with her personality and having quick exchanges with them in Italian that Megan was no match for. Now Megan could not even use the phone placed in the suite by the hotel as well. She felt pitiful yet angry, brushing off tears that formed at the corner of her eyes.
The redhead kidnapper daintily sat down on the sofa in the room, conveniently placed next to the phone and made no conversation with her hostage.
The middle-aged woman paced the room, her trying to make as little noise with her feet as possible, not even daring to open the door to escape and look outside the window. What good would calling the police do, when these notorious criminals had contacts everywhere, from private companies to the government?
The shadows of stretched across the floor of the room as the sun continued to go down, without any sign of her niece. Megan opened the mini-bar but only picked out mineral water. If she began to drink, she feared that she may not stop. Paula was the one thing in this world she had left, what is she lost her, like she had lost everyone else in life? Megan began to shake, unable to stomach the thought.
If Paula did not come back, Megan would have no reason to live anymore. Her mind descending into this negativity, Megan addressed her kidnapper for the first time. “If my niece doesn’t come back, kill me before you leave.”
The redhead stared at Megan, before pinching the bridge of her nose and shaking her head, not even deeming her request worthy of a response. She took out Megan’s phone, which she had been glancing at constantly.
Suddenly, it began to ring, and the Italian got up, handing it to the visibly distraught woman. It was Paula, and she was going to be alright, she said. Megan desperately prayed she would as they ended the call.
• • •
Paula was dropped off in front of Hotel Artemide in the same white Porsche she was picked up in. Her shoulders sagged slightly as she exhaled. It was night, the stark white moon in the black sky a sight Paula thought she would not see again.
She found the will to walk again, entering into the hotel lobby and cutting straight to the elevator. Unnoticed by her, at the time she entered the elevator, another redhead walked out from the one to her right.
Paula reached her suite within minutes and carefully opened the door. Megan looked up from the bed where she had been sitting, holding her head in her hands. At first, the aunt and niece just stared at each other before Paula said, “I’m back.”
Megan nearly flew over to Paula, hugging the life out of her. “Paula Lindsay!” The woman choked. “God damn it, should I be angry, or should I be happy?”
“Happy?” Paula said weakly, hoping her aunt wouldn’t tear her a new one. After all, all of her aunt’s worst fears had nearly come true. “Relieved that nothing bad happened, despite how stressful it was? I actually have a lot to tell you.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Megan pulled away from the hug to glare at her brash, reckless niece, “I will hear it back in New York. Pack up your bags, we’re leaving this instance.”
“Calm down, Meg!” Paula inserted steel into her voice, making it sound like a command. “Yes, we can leave. But first, you will not believe what happened.”
Paula sat her down on the bed’s brown duvet again and began to tell her everything that happened, from being essentially blindfolded in the car ride, to meeting Aleando Mitri, Irmina’s hostile attitude, and ending by showing Me
gan her father’s journal, a possession of Leonardo Bianchi himself.
Megan’s face was blank as she held the book, but inside was another story. Her mind was a storm, wondering what sort of man her father had been. She didn’t know him, not really. She was younger than Andrew by two years and had been four years old when she was dropped into that orphanage, strings pulled behind the scenes to give them both US nationalities.
What would she find inside the journal? “Did you look inside?” she asked Paula.
“No, I wanted you to be the first one,” Paula replied gently. “He was your father, after all.”
Wordlessly, Megan unclasped the snap-button fastener of the weathered journal and turned to the first, yellowed page.
It was then that a fundamental flaw in the whole scheme was brought to light. Paula smacked her forehead with her hand, while Megan didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“It’s all in Italian! Oh my God,” Megan started to snicker, which turned into full-blown laughter as Paula’s face soured. “Well isn’t this just hilarious!” she doubled over, laughter still bubbling in her throat.
In response, Paula almost snatched the journal from her hands and began to flip through the pages, before she made a discovery of her own that caused her to grin victoriously. “You should always go through the whole thing before drawing your conclusions, Megan,” Paula sniffed. “Most of his writing is in English, probably ‘cause he knew his descendants would grow up in America.”
It was the sensible thing to do, Megan realized, and the tables turned. Now she was moping while Paula was humming to herself, flipping through the pages. “Just so you know, I don’t have any intention of reading that book. The less I know, the better it is for me.”
“Suit yourself aunty, I won’t push you,” said Paula, giving a small smile to let her know it was okay. Not everyone could face their past, and Paula would let her aunt do as she wished. For now, at least.
The Family Secret Page 14