Elsa
This ride was boring as fuck.
No one speaks after the call with Marcello ended. Marco seems lost in thought and Alessia plays on her phone. I concentrate on not throwing up, which seems like a real possibility with every minute that passes.
I have to get out of this car.
“Can we stop? I need to use the bathroom.”
Marco asks Alessia if she wants to stop, and the other woman shrugs without glancing up from her phone. He finds my eyes in the rear view mirror. “I will stop by the side of the road. There are bushes and trees.”
“Fuck that. A real bathroom with a real toilet or I swear, I will ruin the leather upholstery in this car.”
He glares at me, then makes a call. Whoever is on the phone calls him Don Rossi, so I assume it is someone who works for Marco. Odd that he doesn’t travel with the level of security and paranoia that plagues . . . other mafia bosses. Is that confidence or stupidity?
When we finally stop at a petrol station, two black SUVs are parked there. Four men get out of each car, a small army of thugs who look more like military men, each wearing black cargo pants, black t-shirts and black combat boots. They form a perimeter around the station, sharp eyes scanning the surroundings. Here is Marco’s army. Had I just thought him stupid a moment ago?
It is clear Marco is anything but stupid, because he has two men follow me and Alessia to the ladies toilet. Any attempt to try to escape here is impossible. The men wait outside while Alessia and I go in. I close the stall door and take deep breaths.
When I finish and emerge to wash my hands, Alessia is touching up her makeup in the mirror.
Rooting around in her purse, she holds up a stick of concealer. “For your eyes.”
I examine myself in the mirror, horrified by what I saw. The activity of being kidnapped has not done wonders for my complexion. I look tired, my skin sallow. Dark circles hang under my eyes, a perfect match for the anguish reflects there.
“Do not look sad,” Alessia said. “Marco is going to let you go when he gets what he wants from Marcello. Besides,” she continues, “Marcello will soon lose everything. My Marco is very clever with computers and he has eyes and ears everywhere.”
What does that mean? Marco is going to use me to bring down Marcello? Is that part of my ransom?
“Don’t worry. Many important men in Naples work for my Marco. You will find another.”
I nearly scoff. No, thank you. If I was to ever leave Marcello, I would not want another mafia man. I would want an accountant or an architect. A barista, maybe. Someone with a regular job that doesn’t involve killing people.
“I’ll be fine,” I say, waving away her concealer. “I’ll go back to back home. I have a family and friends. I’m can’t stay in Naples.
If Alessia thinks I am a golddigger mistress like her she is the joke right now. I am a billionaire’s daughter and I can have whatever I need. I don’t have to run after rich men especially married mafia men like her to earn happiness. I can give that to myself if I wanted.
Maybe Marcello never told them about my identity. That is good.
Alessia smoothes the edges of her lips. “I could never leave. There is nothing like a powerful man between your legs. Why would you want another?”
Self-preservation, maybe?
I ignore her question.
“Can I borrow some lipstick?”
Eager to help me right the terrible wrong of my makeup-less face, she hands over a tube. I accept it then drop it, and the tube rolls under the stall door. “Damn it,” I say, hurrying into the stall after Alessia’s lipstick. Once I have the tube in hand, I uncap it and write furiously on the old metal.
Call police. Kidnapped by Marco Rossi.
Then I slap some lipstick on my lips and emerge. “How does it look?” I ask Alessia, who is applying more mascara.
“That is the wrong shade for you.” She whips out a pack of makeup remover wipes. “Here, use this and I’ll give you another one.”
Sure, right. Why not? Two mafia lovers hanging out in a bathroom, trading makeup tips and dolling ourselves up for murderers.
Wake up, Elsa.
And who cares what I look like?
I use the remover wipe on my lips then throw it away. “No, thanks. I don’t need lipstick.”
“Suit yourself.” She fluffs her perfect hair. “Come. Marco does not like to wait.”
I follow her out of the bathroom. “Do you have any food?”
“More protein bars are in the car.”
The men followed us back to the car, where Marco stands frowning in our direction. He gives some orders to the men behind us, and the two soldiers turn around and return to the ladies’ toilet. Shit. Will they find what I have written?
I try not to panic as I settle into the back of the car. Marco stands outside, not moving, and Alessia gives me a protein bar and another bottle of water before turning back to her phone. I eat it quickly, hoping to settle my stomach for the drive, and watch out the window.
The two soldiers emerge, and one walks over to speak quietly to Marco. When Marco slides into the driver’s seat, his dark gaze catches mine in the rearview mirror. “A message on the stall. Very clever, Elsa.”
My stomach clenches out of fear.
Marco continues. “You know, you and Marcello talk a good game, but I don’t believe either of you.”
Then he is a fool. “Just because Marcello may not give a shit anymore doesn’t mean I want to go anywhere with you. Let me go, Marco.”
“Not just yet.” Starting the car, he drives out of the station. “I need you.”
We reach the shipyard in a few minutes. There is a helicopter ready with it’s rotor blades already rotating.
Oh, so we are going to fly? A boat would definitely slow them down. He planned all this.
The is a helicopter waiting near the shipyard at the beach. It is already ready with it’s rotor blades spinning.
I am literally shoved in and they fly off. I sit between Alessia and Marco as if to make sure I don’t jump through the windows of the helicopter and escape.