His brain is unbelievable when I watch him go over the computer screens navigating programs for accounting and coding things that only he would know. He was . . .impressive. There, I admit it.
Tonight, I dress more like a younger version of myself, with a skintight dress that is electric blue, my bag and blue shoes. I look like a mafia princess, alright. More importantly I look like I wield more power . . . power that extends beyond my legs, tanned shoulders and hidden knives.
I grab a small purse slipping the strap over my shoulder. I have mace in it, my fake ID, and a few essentials, like lipstick. I take my time stepping down the staircase and Sal is waiting for me at the bottom as if he perfectly timed it. It’s as if we’re on a first date.
“Wow, who are you and where is Francesca?” Sal asks holding his jacket in one hand while Matteo stands in a suit that must have a gun tucked in it somewhere.
True, I'm stripped of the ties I had on earlier this week, and the running and few moves we’ve been learning have toned me up. I also do Pilates in my room at night to keep my mind off Sal. He’s off-limits now and forever.
“Good, my real identity is a secret. I’m Francesca Savona. It’s always best to stay the closest to the truth when doing this shit,” I state as I wait for Sal to open the door for me.
“You’ve done that alright,” Matteo says his first words to me.
“Matteo, you finally found your tongue?” I tease as I breeze by him and he opens the car door as Sal, and I get in. Matteo slides behind the wheel and we’re off to the club even though it’s ten at night.
“Just a heads up, tomorrow is my family’s Sunday luncheon. We mix up the times for safety and seeing as how you are new and it’s a sensitive situation, instead of leaving you at home, I’ll introduce you to my mother."
“Moving lunch to another location will have Mom asking questions, so Dante and I made a decision for you to be there under your fake name. Only Dante and Juliet and our other brother Marchello will know who you really are. Well, Riccardo too.”
“Is that the man that looks like the Israeli elite force?”
“That’s him alright.”
“Oh, wow, is that a good idea for us to meet? I mean my half-sister will be there, surely Dante told her about me.”
“It’s all I got to go with,” he says as he turns his palms face up —he’s out of ideas.
“Oh, alright. I guess we have to make up it up as we go along,” I lay my purse in my lap and fold my hands over it like I went to finishing school.
I’m not sure how I feel about this. I’m not that much of a family person and I feel more pressure to preform for his family than I do for doing my job tonight. It’s easy to beat the shit out of a thug, it’s difficult for me to sip tea with women and not show my angry side to men that can hit on me, physically or emotionally.
I let out a sigh as I take in the city lights of Florence that are bright enough to illuminate the sky as we drive down mountainous roads. We arrive at the club by eleven p.m. It’s important to know time which is why I’m wearing an expensive exercise watch. My phone is turned off but it’s my burner that Sal returned to me.
I must have been a very good girl as I’m getting privileges. That, and the fact that I need to make a buy from these Albanians. Sal gives me a few hundred euros to use at the club to buy coke off these pricks at the club, if they're even there tonight. But it’s Saturday night and we have every reason to believe it will be worth their while to move coke and possibly fentanyl pills laced with heroine or other substances.
“Pull over here, Matteo,” I instruct with authority.
He looks in the review mirror at Sal, who nods his agreement.
“We’re not there yet,” Sal replies.
“Sal, we need to exchange numbers and if I get taken or something stupid happens, I doubt that they would know what ‘O’ stands for in my phone and if you get a call on it, never give out your real name.”
Sal takes the phone from my hand and our fingers bump into each other as my heart races and my pussy is instantly wet and warm as he makes sure we both have the number in our phones.
Flashbacks of seeing Sal naked this morning run through my mind and my palms turn sweaty as I rub them over the hem of my dress.
“You, okay?” Sal’s deep voice has a ring of concern in it and it's endearing.
But it’s game time, so I have to let it go and get back to business.
“Sure, why?” I snap.
Then, I want to kick myself for being defensive with him when he’s being sweet for the first time since he brought me that cold cappuccino in the cellar.
Well, there’s the cute banter he makes with me occasionally, but I just blow that off as a man who wants to get laid.
We continue to the club and get out of the dark tinted SUV like nothing screams drug pusher or mafia more than the vehicles we drive.