“Fine.”
He seems to calm down but then he asks me to take a seat.
Fuck.
I want him to leave and get out of my life. He’s full of lies and no doubt the rest will spill out like candy from a piñata. If I had a stick, I would hit him to test my theory.
“Look, your father went to a lot of trouble to pick out a suitable husband for you. After the funeral, we’ll announce your engagement. You need an Albanian man to take care of the business side of things and take care of you.” Besnik sits on the edge of the chair, not knowing his enemy, Marchello Micheli, sat there less than an hour ago. I find it ironic and try not to smile.
“You can forget about that. It’s not going to happen.” I stand up quickly, knocking my rolling chair across the wood floor.
“It will happen if you know what’s good for you. I have some pull, but not enough. You’re involved whether you want to be or not.”
“Bullshit. I can’t trust you. I can’t trust anyone. I know they found Digitalis in Papa’s blood. Now, I want to find who put it there. I’m doing what you should be doing, if you cared.”
Besnik stands. “I do care and the powers in place will do that for you. Don’t meddle, it won’t bode well for you, Prende. Trust me on this. I want you to be safe. You need a husband to protect you and the rest will take care of itself. We can’t bring your father back, but I can keep you safe from whatever he did to provoke his murder.”
It’s hard to erase all our years together and I want to believe him. But I can’t tell if he’s with me, or against me. My back is against the wall, literally and figuratively.
“Look, let’s just get through the funeral. As for marrying a stranger, I’m not keen on it.”
“I know, but we’ll discuss it more, maybe at home, no?”
“Fine.”
He gives me a hug and kisses my forehead like he would a daughter.
“I’m trying to help.”
“I know.”
But I don’t know and, for now, lip service seems like a great play.
I walk him to the door and everyone acts like nothing happened as he leaves and we get back to work.
Besnik has given me a lot to think about. Is it more than a coincidence that Marchello Micheli conveniently shows up when our paths never crossed before?
Whom do I trust more? The man I just met or the one I’ve known most of my life? Neither have been honest with me.
More importantly, who do I align myself with in this family feud and what will happen if I don’t marry the Albanian?
I return to my office and call the number Marchello gave me for his office. I was expecting a secretary or receptionist to answer but instead, he answers on the first ring.
9
Marchello
Prende is calling and I pick the phone up immediately.
“Marchello, I have some bad news. I can’t do the wedding in January. I don’t know how to break it to Juliet.”
“What’s the matter? You agreed.”
“I know. But there are issues at this end that make it impossible. It’s just been brought to my attention that I never should have accepted the job in the first place.”
“Oh, but you have a contract with Juliet.”
“Yes, I’m hoping your family will let me out of it.”