Shadow games, p.5
Shadow Games, page 5
We went back to the office; I had a lot of work to do there, and also from college. I didn't have a degree in political science; there was a long way to go, even more so to get into law school. Kourtney started working with us, through my influence and because there was an opening for an assistant at the office. They preferred to hire people like her, without relatives, without connections, and I knew why: they were easy to eliminate because nobody would miss them. My best friend was on scholarship, her mother was a cleaner at the university, and they didn't have close family in the city. If they disappeared, there would be no suspicion.
Later, I went to my apartment, my emotions in turmoil. I was happy to know the truth about Dante, but I also felt Nicola's pain as if it were my own. He was trapped in a life he didn't choose, and I wanted to help him find some peace. I ended up getting distracted by a call from Mom; she had focused her energies on me and the pregnancy, ignoring my father's existence, acting as his wife only at public events and tormenting him in private now that she knew he'd had a mistress and a daughter.
I knew it would pass; she would never get divorced. Mom preferred death to being divorced and living far from high society. I always heard her say that men could find a younger wife, no one would care if he was a cheater or not. She would never regain her youth, nor would she find another husband, because men want young women. So, she would choose to condemn them both to a life of squabbles and unhappiness.
That night, lying in bed, I placed my hand on my belly and felt my baby's movements. I thought about how Nicola was doing everything to protect her son. I couldn't imagine living without my baby. How did Dante's mother feel when her son was taken away? She had to give him up so that the boy could have a future. I promised myself that I would never be away from Jamie, regardless of the challenges that came, I was determined to be the best mother possible.
The next day, early in the morning, Nicola came to pick me up. He was taking me to my prenatal appointment, and afterwards, we had a meeting with a client, who was none other than a senator who snorted cocaine with more power than a vacuum cleaner. He impressed me with how he could talk and do such awful things. But Nicola kept him in check, and so I learned more about his world and how he navigated the complexities of mafia and political life. Each lesson he taught me strengthened me and prepared me for when my turn came.
CHAPTER 8
Sienna
Nine Years Later
MY WEEKEND MORNING routine with Jamie was one of my favorite moments in life. At eight years old, he was an incredibly active child, his hyperactivity turning every moment into a little adventure, making every second quite intense, so I would look for craft activities, as suggested by the psychologist, to distract him. Making butter was an occupation that managed to keep him calm, at least for a while.
"Stir slowly, Jamie," he said as he vigorously shook the makeshift mixer. "Calm down, son."
"I know, Mom! Like this?" He looked at me with his big blue eyes, so similar to Adam's. My heart ached every time I saw that look.
"Perfect, my love," I replied, smiling. I kissed her forehead. My gaze drifted to the camera system monitor. I sighed, already anticipating the storm that was about to break. The doorbell rang; it was Renata. Her fists pounded impatiently on the door.
"Keep stirring, Jamie. I'll be right back," I said, washing my hands and drying them on the dish towel.
I walked to the door and opened it. Renata walked past me without even waiting for an invitation, her face contorted with frustration.
"Is Nicola here? Did he sleep here?" she asked, her voice thick with venom. At times, I caught myself imagining what it would be like to set her hair on fire. I rarely felt anger towards people; Mom said I was too cold to care. Except for Renata. She could make me boil.
"Renata, we've already agreed that you shouldn't use the term 'sleep here' as if this were a mistress's house," I corrected, trying to remain calm. "He spends the nights at my house working."
"You understood what I meant," he murmured, with his usual malicious and jealous air.
I didn't have the patience to deal with it. It seemed my presence always exacerbated his insecurities. As if to increase the tension, Nicola came downstairs. He was perfectly dressed, without any sign of a sleepless night, and as if he had actually worked. He hadn't spent the night here, but Renata didn't know. She was only guessing.
"What are you doing here, Renata?" Nicola asked, his voice low and firm. If I had a husband and he spoke to me like that, I'd throw a shoe at him. "I have a lot of work to do."
"Work," he repeated sarcastically. "Did you hear that, Sienna? Work."
"Did you come to take care of Jamie?" Nicola joked.
My thoughts drifted to Renata's lack of patience with children. I had no idea how she thought she could be a mother if she was so harsh and didn't know how to handle a small being, regardless of age. I remembered how good it was that I hadn't chosen her as Jamie's godmother, shocking everyone, because Nicola was the godfather. The horrible words she uttered when I went through complications during childbirth still echoed in my mind. While Nicola saved my life, Renata only knew how to call me weak.
She was at the altar at the christening, but Kourtney was holding my son and Nicola said the prayer. They were the godparents.
They started arguing and I rolled my eyes, returning to the kitchen, grabbing some coffee and heading out onto the balcony near the pool, one of my favorite places to relax.
"Keep washing the butter, Jamie," I said, trying not to think about the escalating argument behind me.
I sat on my deliciously comfortable sofa, my foot propped up on the table, savoring my coffee, trying to push away the negative thoughts. Nicola soon joined me, sitting down on the other side, also with a mug of coffee. I glared at him, half angrily.
"We've already agreed, Nicola. Don't use my house as an excuse for your cheating escapades. I'm not going to interfere in your marriage. Renata already hates me, she's kind of suspicious that there's something between us. Living together is forced," I whispered, speaking very seriously.
Nicola sighed, his eyes filled with weariness.
— I know, Sienna. It's complicated.
"It doesn't have to be that way. When you go to do other jobs, you just grab your things and leave, but it's the escapades with your mistresses that part of you wants her to know about, to make her suffer, and that's ridiculous. Put an end to it," I replied, still whispering. "Dante is fine. You should run away, fake your own death, go after Rose, live your love, hide away in a cave where you can never be found, and be happy. You have the right to get rid of this marriage that only brings unhappiness."
"I would never stay away from my son," she retorted in her firm tone. "And Rose is fine without me. She's a teacher, she's building her life."
"But he never got married," I retorted, looking at him. He snorted. "When he went to Italy, he came back melancholy. I know he went to see her."
Nicola remained silent, then sighed.
Yes. I went to see her. I showed her photos and videos of Dante, I told her about our son...
"Nico, please, Dante will understand. He loves you more than anything, that boy idolizes you. It's obvious he'll want his parents together, damn it," she said, and our eyes met, a silent understanding passing between us, but the conversation was interrupted when Renata approached with a cup of coffee. We started talking about something silly, social, just to fill the awkward atmosphere. However, a small red stain was moving on Renata's clothes.
"What is this...?" I began to say, looking more closely.
Before I could finish, Nicola fell to her knees in front of me.
"Jamie, lie down on the floor!" she shouted at my son.
Jamie promptly obeyed, demonstrating the discipline he had learned from Nicola. But before Nicola could do anything, a dry sound filled the air. Blood gushed from his chest, spraying in all directions. I stood paralyzed, trapped in his gaze as he slowly lost his life.
"I love you, Nicola," I whispered as he fell to the ground, taking me with him.
Blood dripped onto the balcony floor, mingling with the tears she couldn't hold back. Renata let out a sharp cry, like a cat scratching at a painting. I lay on my side on the balcony, staring at Nicola, listening to the hurried footsteps of my bodyguards, the shots they fired. I looked around, searching for Jamie. He began to crawl towards me, with a desperation in his eyes I had never seen before.
Renata was also on the floor, sitting sideways, her arms outstretched toward her husband, who was clinging to me, his breathing ragged and uneven. She looked at me with eyes wide with shock and fear. Everything around us seemed to be in slow motion. I tried to move, but my body wouldn't respond. Finally, I managed to stand up and wrap my arms around Jamie, pulling him into my arms. He was trembling, but unharmed. I hugged him tightly, whispering words of comfort.
— Everything's alright, my love. Mommy's here. Everything's alright.
Sam, my head of security, helped us up. I couldn't hear what they were saying; everything was a blur of sounds and images. Nicola was lying in front of me, his life rapidly ebbing away.
"Mom, what's happening?" Jamie asked, filled with panic.
"Don't worry, darling. Everything will be alright," I said, trying to stay calm for him. Sam led us into the living room and I knelt in front of him. "I need you to go to your room, okay? Digley will stay with you until we understand what's happening. Obey him, James. Was I clear?"
— I understand, Mom.
"I love you," I said, my voice breaking.
Digley picked Jamie up and carried her upstairs, accompanied by two armed security guards.
— Sam?
He's dead, Sienna.
"Get Renata out of here," I said, needing to escape her screams. "And call the Biancchi family. Leave the body where it is and nobody touch anything else," I murmured, looking towards the balcony.
Sam promptly began to obey my instructions. I slowly walked to the balcony and fell to my knees beside him, took his hand and brought it to my cheek. I squeezed tightly, refusing to accept reality. Pain and despair overwhelmed me. I lost track of time while holding his hand, tears falling uncontrollably.
"Sienna, my daughter," I heard Mr. Biancchi say. He was standing in the doorway with his two loyal men.
"He..." I tried to say, but he simply shook his head. "He closed his eyes," I whispered, and Luigi leaned on his cane, which he was using because of a recent injury, and placed his hand on my shoulder, also kneeling. He ran his fingers over his son's face and lowered himself, kissing his forehead.
"We need to take him. He'll be in the chapel at the end of my property," he said, touching my face. "Compose yourself. Nicola has named you guardian of his will and estate. It's time to begin all the protocols for his death."
I nodded, unable to speak. I watched as they placed him on the stretcher and carried him away. The world was crumbling around me. I stood and walked slowly inside. I needed to organize my thoughts, but my mind was a mess. The only thing clear was that Nicola was dead and that I needed to protect Jamie at all costs, because it was an attack on my home, the place where I felt safe.
I sat on the sofa and the seat next to me sank.
"The team is coming," Sam said, taking my hand.
He worked with me, but for a while, we were more than just boss and employee.
"Okay. I'm going to take a shower. Jamie needs to go to my parents' house; he doesn't have to listen to the planning of his godfather's funeral and all the plans that come with it," I said, tears dripping onto my pants.
"Nicola was such a son of a bitch that he even planned his own funeral to screw over and manipulate others," Sam murmured and smiled.
"He used to say that life is made of opportunities," I whispered, placing my hand on my chest. "It feels like I'm going to die from the pain inside."
Sam kissed my hair and I heard the sound of cars stopping outside.
"You're made of titanium," he whispered, opening the door for my team.
CHAPTER 9
Sienna
DESPITE MY BROKEN HEART and the overwhelming pain of grief, I became deeply involved in the funeral arrangements for Nicola's death. The sadness was constant, but it kept me in complete control of the situation. Renata was medicated and therefore didn't get in my way. I invited powerful clients and politicians, knowing their presence was essential to maintain appearances and respect for Nicola's memory.
Internally, everyone was discussing the absence of Enzo Rafaelli, Nicola's best friend, up to that point. He deflected all questions about it, supporting Juliana, his wife, and working on several fronts at the same time. He maintained control of the office, the employees, and everything Nicola had built. The reading of his will was next week, and he imagined the sky would fall on his head when Renata found out she would receive nothing more than a pension, which would be managed by his father.
Before the funeral, I entered the room where Nicola lay resting in his coffin. I placed my hand on his chest, feeling the coldness of his death, which still seemed unreal to me.
"I will miss you every second of my life," I whispered, fighting back tears that threatened to fall. "I promise I'll take care of everything, just like you would."
I closed my eyes for a moment, absorbing the solidity of my commitment.
"Close the coffin and place the wreath on top," I told the men who were waiting. And when I turned around, I found Luigi, Nicola's father, standing behind me.
"Why will the coffin remain closed, Sienna?" he asked, amused by the sadness.
I looked into his eyes, searching for the right words.
"Nicola said he wanted Enzo to think he was alive somewhere. If no one sees the body, they'll still doubt his death," she said with a sad smile. "He'll be a legend."
Luigi smiled slightly, his eyes filled with tears.
"That's something my son would do," he murmured, clearing his throat.
We have to go. It's time.
The wake was painful, one of the hardest moments of my life. I sat with Jamie on the same bench as Dante and Nicola's real sisters. In the front row were Luigi, Antonella, and Renata, who was completely drugged. The ceremony was filled with emotion. The words spoken were beautiful, but the emptiness Nicola left behind was unbearable. Jamie and I followed the others to the cemetery, accompanying the coffin.
After the burial was over, I allowed myself a few moments to network. It was part of my duty to maintain contacts, to remind them that, despite Nicola's death, nothing would change, and to ensure that his legacy continued. After a few minutes of necessary conversation, I took Jamie by the hand and, along with the security guards, we headed to the car.
"Come on, darling. Time to go home," I said, trying to keep my voice calm and firm for my son. He was upset, but my feeling balanced helped his mood.
"Okay, Mom," she replied, gripping my fingers tightly.
As he got into the car, I glanced across the street. Despite people walking past and heading to their cars, I had a feeling I saw a familiar face. The glimpse was brief, but enough to leave an impression.
"Jamie, get in the car," he said, still looking across the street, trying to catch her eye again.
He did as I said, and I kept looking, but his face disappeared into the crowd. I shook my head, trying to shake off the feeling of déjà vu. I got into the car and closed the door, telling Sam we were ready to go. The drive home was silent. Jamie seemed to understand it was a time for reflection and remained quiet, holding my hand.
When we got home, I left him in the living room with some toys and went upstairs to my office. I needed to think and plan my next steps. Nicola's death left me feeling incomplete. But I had to be strong. Nicola trusted me, and I couldn't let him down. Kourtney arrived, took off her coat and shoes, said she'd order Chinese food, opened a bottle of wine, and we started working.
The following days were a succession of meetings, phone calls, and difficult decisions. Nicola's presence was still in every corner of the office, in every document I read and in the decisions I made. I received several visits from clients and business partners. Each of them expressed their condolences and reaffirmed their commitment to our partnership. I thanked them, assuring them that everything would continue.
"That miserable son of a bitch," Kourtney said, walking into my office.
— What it was?
"That damned partner, that piece of crap front," he muttered, seething with rage. "He sold his share!"
"What?!" I exclaimed, standing up. It was the worst possible moment, what a bastard! He was just a puppet in Nicola's hands, a coward, and he took advantage of his death to get away. "To whom?"
"I don't know yet. It's confidential. Whoever bought it tied it up well and doesn't want us to know. The news that you inherited the office will spread," he said, and I sighed with a sudden headache. My phone rang, and it was Luigi asking me to go to his house as quickly as possible. He must have received his son's will and would have questions. "Find out about it. Figure it out. We can't have a complete stranger walking around here."
I will go.
"I'm going to the Biancchi's. We'll keep in touch," I said, picking up my bag and telling Sam I needed to leave. I went downstairs quickly, chatting with some employees along the way. The car stopped at the entrance, and throughout the entire journey, my phone didn't stop ringing for a single second, with the whole team in shock and agitated about the new partner.
"I want the bastard and I want answers," I said to Sam, who looked at me in the rearview mirror. "If I'm not going to find out the right way who he sold his share of the office to at the worst moment of my life, I'm going to find out the hard way. And please, cause me a lot of pain."
"Yes, ma'am." He smiled slightly.
I got out of the car, the Biancchi's housekeeper opened the door for me, and as expected, I went straight to the stairs. I knew every corner of that house, after years of frequenting it often. I knocked before entering, and Luigi was sitting behind his desk, looking at some papers. When I entered, he gave me a tired smile.
