“Like someone might be out for me?”
“Maybe. We hope to find out more soon. Capisci?”
“Si.”
He turns to Samira, greets her and tells her to take care of me before he leaves.
“Samira.” I nod.
“Good afternoon. You slept well?”
“Yes, thank you.”
She puts her bags on the table. “Massimo wanted you to have these. There are phone chargers and clothes, and your dress shoes from the museum are in your closet,” she informs me.
“Thank you.”
Then it hits me, he has my shoes? That was thoughtful. However if he’s a serial killer he knows not to leave any clues at the scene of a murder. So, there was no evidence I was in the garden that fateful night. I’m touched that he went back after I left to retrieve my shoes.
Samira nods and sets off to clean the kitchen.
Meanwhile I’m excited to see what is in the bags and the first one contains jeans, dress pants and long-sleeved shirts, undies that make me blush and matching bras that look like they are the right size but made to wear on a runway. He even thought to get socks, and there are boots in large boxes and another bag with numerous sneakers, all designer names.
I enter the kitchen. “How did someone buy all this in under two hours?” I know the shops don’t open earlier than ten.
“We had a few people working on it,” she says, and her eyes soften. “I’m sorry about your father.”
“Thank you.”
She nods.
Conversation over. I take the bags and head to my room and open the closet and there are my shoes, and they’ve been cleaned. There are hangers for my clothing so I make two trips up the staircase with my hand and arms full of bags and boxes to find a home for it all.
This mansion is larger than I imagined and I’m anxious to look closer at the artwork and see what other treasures this home holds.
After my clothing are put away I charge my phones before putting together a matching outfit to wear. This mansion needs to be explored but before I leave the room my phone rings.
Mama. I pick up the call.
She’s crying. Sure, she and Papa have been married over thirty years. I can imagine the shock of it. I don’t have much sympathy for my family for what they did to me. Tossing me to the wolves to save their cushy asses.
In a way, it improves my opinion of Massimo.
Mama is rambling on.
“Mama, did you know Papa was selling me to a stranger?”
“What? No, he said he arranged something,” she sniffles. I’m not sure I believe her.
“Well, I’m with my future husband, everything is fine for now. But tell Giovi not to trust Papa’s men. I think Papa was murdered.”
She bursts into tears again and I make an excuse to hang up. I can’t deny I’m glad to be away from home now. Giovi can handle it.
I try on my new wardrobe. The clothes fit, like really fit, and are comfy. Someone has better taste than me I think as I put the phone on speaker, lay it on the bed and tug on the socks and sneakers. This will help with the cold marble floors.
Once downstairs, I ask Samira to show me around. The fog has lifted, revealing empty olive trees on the hill behind the property. I catch some men walking around some outer buildings and know they aren’t gardeners.
Samira heads to the kitchen. I continue to walk around the house, taking in the paintings on the wall. These aren’t cheap, they are exquisite. Then I stumble upon the roped off room that I caught a glimpse of last night.