56

Francesca

Enzo stayed for dinner.

I tried to hide in my room, but they sent me out to the courtyard to eat with Enzo, Mariella and six of their men. The outdoor space was softly lit and lined with beautiful, fragrant flowers. Gentle waves crashed onto the beach in a calming, rhythmic sound. The setting would have been romantic under any other circumstances, but I couldn't appreciate it. I picked at my spaghetti, aware that everyone was surreptitiously watching me. Was the food poisoned? Were they all waiting for me to eat and then pass out at the table?

Mariella tried to keep the conversation going, but Enzo's men were not interested in talking, remaining silent, and Enzo gave her one or two word answers. Finally, he looked at me. —Don't you like pasta, Frankie?"

— I'm just waiting for the poison to take effect.

—Now, why would we poison you? You are much more valuable alive than dead. — He pointed to my plate. — Take a bite.

— I'm allergic to shellfish. - It was a lie. I loved seafoo