Elsa
Time moves slowly the next few days.
They took Marcello off the ventilator two days after his surgery. Not long after, his eyes fluttered open. There he was, alive and still with me. I pressed my forehead to his cheek. “I love you, baby.”
There wasn’t much more to say than that, because he drifted back into unconsciousness. The knot in my chest eased a tiny fraction. Our problems were far from over, but it was good to see his gorgeous blue eyes staring at me once again.
We decided I will spend nights at the hospital, while Zia will sit with Marcello during the day. This will allow me to go home and clean up, as well as see to the estate and business matters during Marcello’s recovery. The doctors are keeping him heavily sedated for the time being and they don’t anticipate him leaving the hospital for at least a month.
Gabrielle takes over Marcello’s office, and he is always sequestered in there for hours at a time. I know they are e trying to find the shooter and Marco, as well as going over other mafia business. Every time I ask about what is going on, they evade the questions, clearly trying to shield me.
Zio Rocco, being the manager of Viscuso legitimate business takes me under his wing. He comes over and met with me in my new office at the mansion. We walk through all the legitimate businesses-the number of which absolutely makes my head spin-and he shares the financial documents with me. I spend one whole day just trying to wrap my brain around Marcello’s laptop, including the bizarre naming system he uses to keep the Government off his ass.
I am overwhelmed by the amount of trust Marcello has put in me to let me access his business and official documents. I am not even part of his family. He only has his family in the highest positions of his business and I believe he trusts his family much more than outsiders.
Gabrielle told me that Marcello had told him that he trusts me more than he does anyone, even him. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve this but the reality of it overwhelms me and makes my tears fill with tears when Marcello’s family treats me like i am one of them.
If nothing else, this experience taught me that my man is clever.
And rich.
I knew he is rich, but this is on another level. He owns companies throughout the world with hundreds of thousands of employees, and this doesn’t include the illegitimate businesses. Those make money hand over fist. Put it all together and I can’t even fathom his net worth.
I enjoy the work. It gives me something to do, something to distract me from worrying about everything else going on. The first thing I had to do was tackle his email in-box, which is something of a catastrophe. Marcello isn’t big on responding, clearly, which leaves tens of thousands of unopened emails. The number of notifications makes the back of my neck itch.
“You can see he’s old school. He prefers to talk rather than write,” Zio Rocco says with a chuckle when I points this out.
“But how does he know there isn’t something important in here?”
“He waits until I call him to tell him something important is in there.”
I rub my forehead and stare at the overflowing in-box. “Isn’t that incredibly inefficient?”
“Yes,” Rocco says without hesitation. “But I can’t get him to change, no matter how many times I bring it up.”
“He needs, like, an executive assistant to manage his shit.”
“I agree, but he’s too paranoid to ever hire anyone to do it.”
This I believe-and Marcello’s paranoia is hardly unwarranted. Marco has stolen thirty million Euros from him recently. Does Rocco know? I don’t ask. It isn’t my news to share, if Marcello hasn’t confided in Rocco. Besides, someone has helped Marco steal that money. Until we knew who, I am keeping that information to myself.
Guilt settles in my stomach like a stone. Would Uncle really betray him?
Jesus, I don’t know. I hadn’t thought anyone would dare an assassination attempt in broad daylight on the street, either. Showed what I knew.
“Well, I’ll go through his email for now,” I tell Rocco. “Then, while I sit with him at the hospital, I can go through the larger issues and type out his responses.”
“Va bene, signora. That would be a big help. In the meantime, you can sit in on the meetings, take notes, and relay the information to him as you see fit.”
I could do that.
While I hate the reasons behind my involvement in Marcello’s business, I am excited to help. I don’t want to be a clueless mafia girlfriend, whose only purpose is look good on my man’s arm. That would drive me slowly insane. I need to do more and this was the perfect way to contribute.
Maybe I will be able to get enough experience and confidence to take over my father’s businesses that Zio is running on my behalf. I don’t want to push my responsibilities any longer. Zio won’t be doing this for me forever. I will then turn out to be a disappointment of an heir to Papà.
Rocco sets me up with a separate email and calendar just for me. The next day I begin joining conference calls and introducing myself as Marcello’s temporary assistant, taking notes and learning who is who.
I am in the midst of a call with a chemical company in Germany when Gabrielle walks in. He looks terrible. Like he hasn’t slept or showered since before Marcello’s shooting more than a week ago. I frown at him and make sure I am muted on the conference call. “Hey, Gabrielle. Everything okay?”
“You know the answer to that.” He drops heavily into a chair. “What are you doing?”
“Listening to a chemical company in Germany whine about the construction delays in their expansion.”
“That’s an excuse on the part of the construction company to drag it out and earn more money. The construction company is either one of ours or belongs to another member of the society, someone my father is doing a favor for.” He nods toward the laptop, where I have my video and sound off.
“But one more thing on your plate.” I reach over and hold his hand. “Should I be worried about you?”
“No, because it wouldn’t change anything. And I don’t want you under any additional stress.”
“I’m serious. Are you sleeping?”
“I’m okay. You have enough happening right now. Don’t worry about me, too.”
That is s not a great answer. “Talk to me, then. How is it going? Can I help?”
He exhales long and loud.
“We need to find the traitor.”
“The one that helped Marco steal Marcello’s money?”
“That, and everything else. How was Marco’s crew able to get onto the estate, get into the dungeon, and carry him off? And at the exact time Marcello was shot, no less.”
“I see.”
“Let’s focus. Anything else you overheard or saw with Marco?”
I repeat what I’d told Marcello, which is all I know. “Marco wasn’t around much. He was mostly with his wife.”
“That’s what I thought, but I had to ask.” He pushes away from the table and stands. “Your conference call is over, by the way.”
Damn, I hadn’t noticed. I log off from the conferencing software as Gabrielle walks to the door. “Can we have dinner together?” I shout to his back.
“Can’t. No time. I’ll see you later, bella.”
I watched him slip through the door, not liking this one bit.