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Death.
It clung to me like a second skin. Or maybe I was being dramatic, but one thing was certain: if I stayed in this basement another day or night, I was going to die. This was not how I wanted my life to end. I still had dreams I wanted to accomplish. I had so much that I wanted to do, and dying here in this room that smelled like piss and was home to rodents was not part of my plan. I wanted to go back to how things were before. I had not been rich by any standards, but I had been free and content making ends meet. I had an apartment, well, a shared apartment in an affluent neighbourhood. A business that paid the bills. I had thought that with time, as things got better for my family, I could go back to school and study to be something, but all of that had gone to shit the minute my dad called me at three am. One thing anyone must understand about my dad is this; my dad is not a weak man by any definition. He has always been the hero in my life since I was a little girl. Until the night of the phone call. The call which altered the course of my life and his. And, here I was, with prison food and water in a plastic cup that I was sure the men took a piss in before pouring my water in it. A punishment for my family and my sins. My dad has a thing for the casino tables. He used all our money and then borrowed some from the wrong crowd. He owes the Mafia a huge lump sum of money, money he doesn’t have, money I don’t have either. When he called me that night, I promised to lend him money from the family joint savings. Imagine my surprise when I ran to the bank in the morning and had the woman with thick layers of foundation and stained teeth tell me in a drawl that there were zero pounds in that account. I shifted a hundred times since I woke up. Shivering against the stone wall; I could feel the cold seep through from the concrete floor. I did not know time. I only estimated that I’d been in here for about a week, and no one had said anything. Now, you might be wondering how I ended up in a stinky, rodent-infested basement. It’s pretty easy. Dad dug a damn deep hole for the both of us and now the Mafia wants their money. I should not forget the part where I spit on the boss’s face. Epic moment which sealed my fate. Keys juggled outside my door and I shifted my weight again and looked straight ahead with a hardened look. In the time I have been in this cage, I’ve learned one thing. The bastards that came in here to give me food, loved the smell of fear. It was a flipping turn-on for them. The lights switched on. That was new. They had never switched on the lights before, they opened the door and slid in the food like I was a wild animal. I never begged or whimpered, I would only fold my arms and wait for them to close the door again. The best way to survive, as I came to realize was to keep a hard face, shut up, and only scramble towards the food once the door was closed.Food that tasted like shit and was never enough.
Bright light filled the room, and I dared to raise my head and look at the man who came in and stood in front of me, looking down at me.I had never seen his face before.
Interesting. He looked nothing like the bulky man in black suits who came here every day. He had on a denim jacket and leather pants. Even though he was not bulky, he had muscles that was for damn sure. Even the loose denim jacket he had on did nothing to hide that fact. He seemed fascinated as though he knew something about me. From where I was sitting, I couldn’t tell what colour his eyes were, but I knew there was amusement there. He brushed his hair back with his hands and looked at me for a minute before his face broke into a lopsided smile. “My brother wants to see you.” He said in a voice that was rather small for a man his size. However, it was rich and soothing. I liked it. ‘Brother?’ My brain played catch up, did he mean he was related to that monster? If I thought he was good-looking before, his relation to the man who put me in here, left a bitter taste in my mouth as I scrambled to my feet. “I’m sorry about all of this.” He pointed me to the door, he was polite too. If I was being a good judge of character, I would say, he didn’t fit in with the cruel De Luca family, but then again, I didn’t know anything about the family and how they behaved until I was thrown into this pit. The door closed behind me and I stood outside at the foot of the stairs. “Shall we?” he said and led the way upstairs. I followed on wobbly legs. My legs hadn’t had enough exercise and were moving slower than I would have liked. The walk from the basement and through the house was longer than I remembered it being a week ago. As I looked around the long passage, I yearned to be outside and have the sun beat against my back and plant my feet on the grass. “My name is Cici, by the way.” the man in front of me said as he glanced behind him. I said nothing and just kept on walking. If this was his way of making small talk, he had the worst timing in the world. He turned again with his brow raised, and I swallowed, there was no reason for me to be rude to him, He was not his brother. The closer we got to his brother’s office, I forgot about the sun and grass and focused on my sweaty palms. I remembered being in that office, with his brother, the boss man, Leonardo while he barked orders like he owed a share of the sky. That had been the last time I was in there, after I had spit on the man’s face, and told him to go lick his balls. And look at how that had turned out. Here I was, going to meet him face-to-face again. Cici tapped on the door and opened it, when the door fully opened, Leonardo sat in his chair playing with a cube puzzle. He was not alone. The thinning hair full of grey facing him, I could recognize it anywhere. I had not seen my dad since the day Leonardo threw me into the dungeon. Although I was still mad at my dad for the position he had put me in, I was still very much concerned about his well-being. He gestured for me to sit without a word. I took the seat closest to my dad, and only once I had sat down did I notice how old my dad looked. He had aged four times his age since I’d last seen him. My dad turned to look at me, although he didn’t have anything to say, the pleading was written all over his face. “I hope you had time to think about my proposal.” Leonardo said, and I faced him. Feeling bile rise to my throat at the sight of him. I had a sharp retort and was ready to shoot when I felt my dad’s hand on mine. Prickling my bubble and bringing me back to reality with a punch. We were screwed. I needed to keep that in mind. I knew one thing, Leonardo did not want to kill him, and otherwise, there wouldn’t be a need to torture me in his basement for a week, giving me enough time to think about his ridiculous proposal. But before I can give a polite answer, the door bursts open. And we both turned in time to see...what the fuck?Leonardo I stared at the photograph CiCi had sent. Then I looked at it again. And again. There were some faces a man never forgot, not because they were important. Not because they were particularly memorable. But because they had once convinced you to dig up a dead cat in the middle of the night. I slowly lowered my phone. "No. It can't be." Stan was sitting across from me, he and Luther had come as soon as they could when I told them we had a mole. "What?" He asked. I turned the photograph toward him. He looked at it once and his face went blank, then his eyes widened with recognition. "Oh, hell." "That's what I said." "That's him," he said. "That is the guy." "I know." Neither of us spoke for several seconds. From the other side of the office, Luther looked between us. "Who?" Stan pointed at the photograph. "That man." Luther stared at the screen. "I don't know him." "Exactly." I looked at him. "And that's the problem." Another message from CiCi appeared.So it'
Leonardo Whatever was inside that envelope, Vincent hadn't brought it for himself. I watched the screen carefully. CiCi sat at the bar, staring straight ahead. Vincent beside him, neither man looked at each other. That was exactly how it needed to be because Vincent knew my brother. One proper glance at CiCi's face and the entire operation would be over, but CiCi understood the rules. He kept his attention on his drink while Vincent said something behind him. CiCi laughed but he still didn't turn. Then Vincent slid the black envelope across the bar. CiCi looked down at it. My phone vibrated.He gave me something. I typed back. Don't open it yet. A few seconds passed. You really know how to ruin a man's evening. I ignored him. On the screen, Vincent leaned against the bar and said something else. CiCi nodded casually. Then Vincent pointed toward the private corridor but CiCi shook his head. Whatever they were discussing, Vincent seemed amused which bot
Leonardo I had spent enough time staring at photographs and documents. Thinking wasn't going to stop Vincent, or help me find Joseph Butler and it certainly wasn't going to tell me who had killed my driver. I reached for my phone, this time I didn't call Luther. I called CiCi. He answered on the fourth ring. "Yes, brother?" he answered lazily. "Where are you?" I demanded. "That depends," he drawled. I rubbed my forehead. "On what?" "Whether you're calling as my brother or as my boss." "Cici!" I growled. "Boss it is, then," he said, suddenly more serious. "Get to the house." "But I am at the house." "Then get to my office." He hesitated. "Should I be worried?" "In five," I warned before ending the call. Exactly four minutes later, the door swung open and CiCi strolled in carrying a half-eaten sandwich. I stared at the sandwich, then at him. He glanced down at it like he had forgotten that it was even there before glancing back at me. "What?" he asked
Leonardo The door closed behind Olivia and I stared at it for several seconds. Then I looked down at the file I was still holding. Olivia had remembered the day of the photographs. She remembered the man watching her and her father from across the street. She had remembered Elena. And most importantly, she remembered enough to know that whatever had happened to her father hadn't simply been bad luck. But she hadn't given me everything. I knew my wife well enough to recognize when she was hiding something. Olivia didn't lie easily. She didn't need to. She simply chose which pieces of the truth she was willing to hand you. And today, she'd handed me just enough to make me nearly dangerous. There had been an Elena. A woman who had disappeared from Olivia's father's house. A woman who had warned a nine-year-old girl about a man coming to collect on a deal. There was a missing piece. I just didn't know which one and where. I walked out of her room and back
Olivia I knew Leonardo was investigating my father before anyone told me. Men like Leonardo thought they were subtle. They weren't. A wife always knew when something was up. Especially when they were afraid of what they might find. I stood by the bedroom window, watching the black SUV disappear through the gates. Luther had left twenty minutes ago. Leonardo hadn't come with him which in itself was unusual. Normally, wherever Luther went, Leonardo wasn't far behind. But today, Leonardo had remained in his office. For hours and the door had stayed closed. No one had been allowed inside. Not even Rosa. That alone told me something was wrong plus since Cassie, I had a fine sense of what to look out for when it came to him. I turned away from the window. My eyes landed on the copy of a photograph that I had left on the dresser. It was the same photograph Leonardo had been staring at for days. The photograph of a little girl, which was me. I picked it up an
Leonardo Sleep abandoned me before dawn, so I gave up trying. The photograph with the word FOUND lay on my night stand, refusing to let me look away from it. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Olivia's face, of cause, not the woman she was now. But the little girl in that photograph, the one who was watching and waiting. She looked like she already knew that life wasn't going to be kind to her, but more than anything, one question kept repeating itself. It wasn't about who Olivia was or why she had become the woman standing beside me today. The question was about me. It was about why I had settled her father's debt with marriage? Many men had owed me money before, and I had taken businesses, properties and accounts, even blood, but I had never married their daughters. So why Olivia? At the time, I had convinced myself it was punishment. Henry had gambled away money he couldn't repay. He had dragged his family into a mess that should have been his alone and Olivia h







