◆ The Echelons ◆
◇ KEL ◇
Fine. I gave up. If he didn't want to talk to me anymore, so be it. No more questions. No more begging.
It's crystal clear Enzo would rather go to bed than spend another minute with me. Disappointed and at a loss, I retreated to the windy patio where Miles sat quietly.
He settled in one of the chairs under the dim and yellowish lamplight. A meaningful smirk slanted his cute lips, and his squinting eyes told me he caught the awkward tension before Enzo walked out on me.
A quick "catch up with you later" was Enzo's last words before dashing out of our sight. Allergic much? He didn't even bother to glance at me one last time before he shut the sliding door behind him.
Well, at least he had the common sense to stay the night. Driving back to Florence would take him hours. Four if his driver wasn't careful. I'd bet Berto, his bodyguard, was already snoring in one of Ricchar's guest rooms at this moment.
"You good?" Miles questioned with a small grin. He reclined next to me, his arms outstretched, seemingly enjoying the quiet night. "What's up with you two?" Miles stared at me with a little smirk on his stubbled face.
"What?" I made a face. The question distracted me from recalling Enzo's vague replies earlier. The guy acted like I was the harbinger of a darned plague. What's his deal?
"Lorenzio," Miles replied. "Scared him off or what?"
"What? No." I only wanted to clear things up. A nagging feeling told me my friendship with Enzo wouldn't last another week. Although I was too busy to dwell on such issues, it certainly bothered me right now.
Actually it was bothering me a lot. As much as I feared the Tomassinis and as much as I didn't expect to get to know someone like Enzo, I still wanted to stay friends with him. Being an introvert all my life, keeping a small group of close friends was one regimen to sustain my mental health.
No matter what Enzo thought of our current situation, he would always be a trustworthy friend to me. He was thoughtful, caring, supportive, and a good confidant. That's all I could ever ask for, really.
Perhaps things between us had become too complicated for him, so he's choosing to distance himself. But I wouldn't let him throw it all away...let our friendship go to waste just because...
Maybe I should go talk to him again later. Or tomorrow. Or the day after. Hopefully he'd be in a much better mood then. More willing to talk.
"Never thought I'd say this, but, the guy's not that bad." Miles cleared his throat. "He's not just another power-obsessed Tomassini scum."
"He's nothing like his brother." I sighed. Talking about Leandro was not on my agenda today. So I'd leave it at that. "His mother raised him well," I muttered when Miles only tilted his head. It wasn't a half-meant opinion. All these months, Enzo had always shown me kindness and generosity. "I hope you two would just get along."
"I have enough mafia friends to keep me perpetually detached from society. No thanks."
"But he's actually been a good friend. To me." Too good I was starting to wish everyone would see Lorenzio in a different light. Sadly, Miles didn't trust my judgment enough.
"Friend?" Miles scoffed at my reply, his grin lopsided. "If they weren't around, he would've hit me just for kissing you on the cheek."
"Very funny."
"Wasn't joking at all." Miles shrugged and yawned. "When d'you have to leave again?"
"Tomorrow night," I murmured as the sadness crept into my thoughts. I came back here just to see him again, and to collect some paychecks from my previous modeling agency here in Italy. But I couldn't stay for more than three days.
"Booked a flight already?" Miles breathed a noisy sigh before he pulled me to him so I would sit on his lap.
"Not yet." I held his face while he hugged me, finding comfort in his warm embrace. The need to be close to him only worsened when he left me earlier in the guest room to sort something out with Ricchar. I just couldn't sleep. My brain just wouldn't shut off. It kept imagining Miles sleeping right next to me in that big bed.
Miles kissed my cheek as he embraced me, my thighs growing warm on his lap. "Might have to drive out to Milan tomorrow." He frowned. "With Charr."
"Why?" I pulled away. "Why d'you have to go to Milan?" I couldn't help scowling. I knew he would leave me here alone with Cloe if his trip with Ricchar was work-related.
"Not sure yet." Miles grinned slightly while his hands caressed my back. Then he gently kissed me on the lips.
"Don't leave." I moaned in protest. "Please?"
"Okay," he murmured as he stared into my eyes under the wispy lamplight. Shadows dimmed his features, but just a smile from him was enough to lessen my anxieties.
"Is Enzo staying overnight?"
"Just tonight, he said." Miles sat back while his thumb leisurely traced my jaw. Then he flicked my hair behind my shoulder so he could leave soft kisses along the curve of my neck. "Did you see his bruises?"
"What bruises?"
◇
The whole point of me traveling all the way out here was to personally make sure Miles wasn't overusing prescription drugs again. Sometimes he just resorted to pill-popping to manage his chronic pain attacks. At times, he even used cocaine, and some other uppers, he said.
It worried me. A lot. Now I had to assess whether he should just check himself into rehab again. The disappointment was immediate when he admitted that he hadn't sought professional help again. But I had to understand that he's got other priorities at the moment, and that his father was quite a demanding, controlling boss—even to his own son.
Miles had tasks to complete for the sake of his family's businesses, as stated in the contract Mr. Falco had made him sign. Therefore, Miles' personal concerns and health issues would have to wait. Unfortunately.
Prescription drug addiction had been an issue for Miles since he'd dropped out of college. And now the typical painkillers no longer worked for his pain attacks—not surprising. So I finished my pending schoolwork and completed my training requirements early just to be able to visit him this week.
1. Pay him a visit. Done.
2. Make sure he's doing a bit better. Done.
3. Then I would hop on a direct flight back to New York.
The next morning, off to school again. My weekend was supposed to be that simple.
Except now...another unexpected circumstance threatened my routine and plans. My luck just kept running out. Today seemed like another one of my nightmares coming to life, and I was smack in the middle of it all.
Gun-toting men secured the perimeter and the stairs, making sure none of us would escape. They didn't scare me, though. Not as much as the sight of an irate Stefano Falco holding a gun to Niccolo's head, threatening to blast his brains off if Niccolo didn't give the man what he wanted.
"Hai voglia di morire?" The devil's cousin slash mafia boss slapped Niccolo in the face while we watched from a distance.
[You got a death wish?]
Restrained by two brawny men and thick metal chains, Niccolo didn't budge one bit. In fact, he hadn't said a word since the guards brought us down here in the dim basement. He kept staring at the floor while his bloodstained jaw tensed and his lips scowled. Out of indignation? Anxiety? Fear?
Whatever it was, he simply refused to give in to the harassment and torture. It was impressive, and downright terrifying to my bewildered senses. Antagonizing a big boss like Mr. Falco took balls and a lot of guts. As far as I could tell, Niccolo wasn't pissing himself in fear. Nor did he seem that concerned for his own life.
"Vuoi morire senza dignità?" Mr. Falco cocked the gun and kept it glued to his hostage's forehead, his voice threateningly low and controlled.
[You want to die without self-respect?]
Likes Miles once said, his father always had to be in control. Mr. Falco was the type to control everyone and everything around him. Perhaps it was a lifelong compulsion for him.
Why exactly he wanted Niccolo dead...I might never know.
"Non provocarmi, ragazzino." Mr. Falco glared at Niccolo again. "Ho ucciso per meno."
[Don't test me, kid.] [I've killed for less.]
I looked to Miles.
He seemed restless, his breathing audible, somewhat feigning indifference. He wasn't yelling profanities at his father or trying to stop the situation from escalating. He was just standing in front of me, merely blocking my view. But I knew he had been throwing dagger glares at Mr. Falco the moment the guards led us all down here.
Worried, I kept my mouth shut, my breathing no longer calm and steady. I prayed and prayed that by some miracle, Mr. Falco would let Niccolo go and let us all leave this place with our heads, body parts, and souls intact. "Please, Lord. I'm just not ready for anyone to die tonight..." was what I repeatedly prayed in my head.
Sitting behind an old desk in the corner, slumped and silent, Ricchar glanced away from the scene and scratched his pale forehead. It looked like he couldn't keep up a straight face anymore. "Zio, calmati. Ti prego, lascialo parlare."
[Uncle, calm down. Please, let him talk.]
"Fallo parlare?" Mr. Falco backed away from a sweating, poker-faced Niccolo. After a few seconds, Mr. Falco put the gun down to regard Ricchar. "Qualcuno in mezzo a noi è un traditore."
[Let him talk?] [Someone among us is a traitor.]
"È solo confuso." Ricchar sighed shortly and grinned, as if trying his best to diffuse the situation.
[He's just confused.]
Sweating and nervous, heart beating fast and loud in my rib cage, I stayed put behind Miles. I clasped his tensed arms. I doubted Miles' family wanted me dead as well, but...
Chances were, I might not make it out of here alive. The ongoing altercation between the hostage and the hot-headed mafia boss was the dead giveaway. The thought of Niccolo barely surviving a whole night of brutal beating also scared the living crap out of me.
That's what all these guards were for—that much I could tell. "Please just let him go, Signore," I murmured amid the growing tension in the room.
Mr. Falco scoffed. Then he slowly turned towards us to look me in the eye. "Why?"
"He didn't betray you." I tried to louden my voice. Thank God it didn't waver. Although my legs trembled a bit, I focused on Mr. Falco's bearded face, his cold vacuous gaze holding my attention.
"Stop it," Miles whispered to me.
Stefano grinned and took a step forward to focus on me and Miles. "Why are you so sure of that?"
I opened my mouth to mutter another reassurance, but a loud scream from upstairs interrupted the conversation.
The female voice sounded familiar. Too familiar. It sounded a lot like Mrs. Falco. Did something happen to her?
◇
