◆ Reality Check ◆
◆ MILES ◆
...
"We're cooking something up with Leandro, Lorenzio's brother. He's got a new lab." Ricchar grabbed the wine bottle in front of him. "It's a new one. Not as dangerous as meth or heroin."
"Are you kidding?" I wanted to swear at the underlying suggestion. "You're turning into Pappa."
Ricchar shrugged nonchalantly at my comment, his lips pouting somewhat. "Leandro's chemists say it's just like taking vitamins, or painkillers. It's more of an opioid. Cheaper than blow. You could easily sell it to your friends."
For Pete's sake. Now my own cousin's convincing me to become one of their drug dealers.
Chemists... I wondered how many millions they got paid per year straight from the Tomassinis' offshore bank accounts.
"Fuck no. Not gonna happen." I chuckled and looked away from him in incredulity. I had enough life-derailing addictions to deal with on a regular basis. Why would I purposely get myself into more trouble with the law? "I'm fine painting mediocre art for a living. Get over it."
"Be serious, Maxim. You can't do that forever. You need steady income." Ricchar sighed shortly. "You're turning 30 soon. Time to step it up."
"I'll survive, Charr. Worry about your problems." I shook my head in sheer dismay, pathetically imagining eloping with Mykaela just to keep away from the ride-or-die mafia life my family had chosen for themselves.
Well, on the bright side, they weren't using my meager art deals to smuggle their filthy drug money in and out of Italy. Not yet. If only Mamma would let me, I'd move out of Italy and live in America again.
Plausible deniability. Yeah. That could still work for me once serious shit hit the fan, once the authorities caught on and arrested my father for his biggest crimes.
"Did you talk to her?" My cousin spoke quietly now. "About this?"
"Relax... She won't say anything." I scoffed and glanced away. I knew Ricchar and Pappa wanted to make sure Mykaela wouldn't talk to anyone about the ambush once she got back home. "I'll tell her to stay out of it."
"Perché sei sicura?"
[What makes you so sure?]
"I won't ask her to stay—it's her life, her choice." I frowned at Ricchar.
He squinted at my reaction, as if he was expecting me to say something else. "You still don't get it, do you?" His jaw tensed up now as he scowled, etching small lines on his jowls.
"What d'you want me to do?" I shrugged indignantly. "Force her to marry me? Are you insane?"
"If she goes back home, leave her be. You want her to have a normal life?"
Why wouldn't I? Was it a question he wanted me to seriously answer?
"Sever all ties. For good." Ricchar spoke loudly like I had hearing problems. "No texts, calls, emails. Can you do that?"
"Bullshit." I forced a laugh while shaking my head at his commands. "You're overreacting."
"Am I? You got her into this mess, Maxim."
Yeah. Well, he had a point.
"She's still in there trying to keep Lorenzio alive."
"That's just how she is. Thinks she can fix everything," I mumbled. Of course Kel was still tending to the guy's injuries. I should be helping her, but I didn't know jackshit about first aid or actual surgery.
"Leandro and Ignazio...they're looking to hire freshies to join their medical staff."
"What?" I eyed Ricchar, intrigued by what he meant to say.
"You know how much hush money they pay their surgeons?" Ricchar near glared at me now. "To cut open and stitch up drug mules? Prescription fraud, gunshot wounds, stitching up their runners and hitmen, et cetera." He scoffed. "You'd be surprised."
Stitching up drug mules? My hands automatically clenched into fists at the thought. Mykaela? Working for a mafia family? I'd rather she forget her dreams of becoming a doctor than let her end up working for a bunch of crime-loving sociopaths like the Tomassinis. "That's not gonna happen."
"She's now involved no matter how much you deny it." Ricchar lit a cigarette and slightly shook his head. "So make a choice. Now. Let her go back home and forget about you, or just marry her. There's no in-between."
...
6:19PM
Shit. I was dreaming about that day again.
Another blast from the past. I'd had enough nightmares about it the previous year, and now my brain seemed to be eager to take me back to that dreadful day.
The oddly detailed dream was useless for the most part, but, it did remind me of why I was here. I had to talk to Ricchar about a number of things.
It couldn't wait another week. He was taking a vacation to stay home with Cloe now that she was nearing her due date, but I had important deadlines to beat. And I needed Ricchar's advice more than ever.
With the driver and my armed bodyguard sitting in the front of the bulletproof van, I looked out the window as I sat in silence in the backseat, enjoying the dimness and privacy.
Lush greenery, thick shrubs, pine and olive trees lined beside the narrow roads. Sunset had mottled blurry shades of red and orange all over the sky. The cool evening air slightly soothed my skin, but it wasn't distracting enough to make me forget about the next task I had to fulfill on behalf of my father.
The task was basically another sly attempt to earn the trust of the entire Tomassini clan, but Pappa was acting as if I didn't know the real deal. I sighed.
One day. Sometime soon, I would be free of this precarious job.
Should they force me to stay in the family business, I might just disappear one of these days. Get out of dodge and just move to another country.
They could all die a slow, violent death for all I care. Just one last job. Then I'd get my old life back.
◆
◆ Mariangela, Umbria ◆
Ricchar and I were born here. It used to be a sleepy, greatly religious town back in the '70s.
Not so much in this day and age. Underground criminals loitered along the paved streets, and the growing neighborhoods were filled with church-going hypocrites like my parents.
Except my family had way more excess wealth to keep their crimes neatly tucked under overpriced rugs for another decade or so. Pappa had a lot of connections here in Umbria, and not just in the police force. In fact, Ricchar's late father used to be a high-ranking politician here.
The old man was the one who entrusted the estate to Ricchar, the only child and son. Like me. Now, I was on my way to the estate to see Ricchar to discuss a lot of things. Another hour and we'd reach the tall iron gates with our last name proudly engraved on them.
It was a huge property in the middle of nowhere, practically nestled in between two mountain ranges. Ricchar chose to live there with Cloe to bask in the privacy, while still managing half of the family business, of course.
Well, at this stage, it would be more accurate to say just a third of our growing business, since Pappa had now delved into the world of drug and human trafficking. Thanks to the long list of connections and ill-gotten resources of that absolute psycho Leandro Tomassini.
That infamous family of underground crooks loved to pretend they were legit businessmen who had been helping the economy flourish, creating thousands of jobs for minimum wage earners here in the country. But frankly, they're just glorified thieves in pricey tailored suits, making hundreds of millions a year by land-grabbing, drug trafficking, and longtime money laundering all over Europe.
Maybe Pappa was tired of staring at his millions in his bank accounts. So now he was aiming for billions. Not surprising.
Perhaps he got insanely jealous of the Tomassinis' "international drug lord extraordinaire" lifestyles the past decade and a half. Not that I blamed him for it. It was just his nature to want more. He'd always aimed for more. Bigger, shinier things. I just wished Mamma would stop acting as if she could just keep pretending she knew squat about it.
One of these days, I would sit her down with Ricchar, Cloe and...maybe even Pappa. He might just shoot me instead of listen to what I had to say, but I still wanted him to know I would never be okay with him selling his soul to the devil for more money, privileges and power—a sure-fire one-way ticket to hell.
Hopefully Ricchar had come to his senses now. I expected him to choose my side once I mentioned the child trafficking Leandro had been doing with our shipping business.
Ricchar had denied any knowledge of it the first time I told him over the phone—simply because he didn't fully trust Niccolo. But now that Nicco and I had already gathered a few stacks of tangible evidence against Leandro to pin him for his drug and human trafficking deals, Ricchar might finally change his mind about doing business with the likes of Leandro and Ignazio.
It was high time I did something about it. If Ricchar would listen to me, we might be able to convince Pappa to stop committing worse crimes. And stop him from getting more involved with Leandro and Ignazio.
We had to talk him out of the deal. Or else we would all end up in prison, rotting behind bars for a long time.
Our future was looking pretty fucking bleak. It was now or never.
◆
