Bert
“You should leave, Bert,” Sienna said as she made all the arrangements for me. “Luciano’s bodyguards and Pason will ensure your safety. No one will be able to harm you.”
After leaving Chiara’s wedding, Sienna had already planned my itinerary for the foreseeable future.
“Don’t try to get involved in the Mafia’s war. That’s the blessing Chiara and I wish for you, Bert.”
As the Queen of the Philadelphia Mafia, Sienna had changed a lot. She had gained power but lost much in return.
She didn’t want those same changes to happen to me.
I was grateful for the protection from both her and Chiara, but I couldn’t pretend to ignore the danger they were about to face.
“If misfortune truly strikes, I won’t choose to run away.”
The best way to avoid risk was to have absolute strength.
Sienna frowned, filled with worry about my future.
“Don’t worry,” I reassured her. “I’ll be extremely cautious.”
“God bless you,” she said, offering a small prayer. “Will you be staying in Boston for long?”
“My plan is to stay for three days,” I replied.
She looked slightly surprised. “And then, to Australia?”
“No, to Mexico,” I corrected. “I’m planning to open a branch office in Mexico City. This is the scouting phase.”
Sienna wasn’t concerned about my work. “Please send my regards to Professor Falcone.”
My father, Dominic Falcone, had been Sienna’s graduate advisor. She had always held him in high esteem.
“Of course, I’ll pass on your message.”
As Sienna had arranged, Luciano’s bodyguards and Pason escorted me from the church to New York’s airport. They even accompanied me on the flight from New York to Boston.
When the plane landed at Boston Airport, Pason delivered me to the exit, where the Falcone family’s driver was already waiting.
“My job is done, Mr. Falcone,” Pason said, extending his hand. “Thank you for cooperating along the way.”
I gave a wry smile. “No problem.”
I spent three calm days at my home in Boston-attending an obligatory business cocktail party, shopping with my mother, indulging in beauty treatments, and admiring my father’s latest artwork.
Life flowed quietly and uneventfully.
The airline sent me a notification about my flight to Mexico City that evening.
Since I’d booked the ticket on short notice, I could only get a nighttime flight, which required two layovers before reaching Mexico City.
By the time I arrived at Mexico City Airport, it was already 7:14 PM the next day.
“Hey, Bert, you finally picked up,” my doctor friend Garrett called.
“Sorry,” I said, pinching the bridge of my nose to ease the dull ache, barely holding onto my alertness. “My phone was on silent.”
“Did you just get off the plane?”
“Yes.” I maneuvered the car around a large truck and exited the highway.
“Zero Bar. Come quickly. Drinks are on me.”
“Another time. I’m heading home.”
“I’ll give you three hours of sleep, my friend. At 11:30 PM, you must be at Zero,” Garrett insisted. “I know why you’re in Mexico. I’ve already lined up investors for you.”
His offer was too tempting to refuse.
After agreeing on the time and place, I finally arrived home.
The house was a three-story standalone villa with an American minimalist design. My mother had purchased it years ago and later gifted it to me for my coming-of-age celebration.
Before boarding the plane, I had notified Mae to thoroughly clean the house.
“Welcome home, sir,” Mae greeted me warmly.
Mae and I had signed a long-term employment contract. She lived in Mexico City with her husband and children, only coming to work at the villa when I was in town.
“Good evening, Mae.”
“Good evening, sir. Would you like me to prepare dinner for you?”
“No,” I said, exhausted. “I’m going upstairs to sleep. Please wake me in two hours.”
“Of course, sir.”
Two hours of sleep, though brief, managed to restore some of my energy. I turned off the alarm, reluctantly dragging myself out of bed.
A splash of cold water on my face fully woke me. After changing into fresh clothes, I headed to the study to tackle some accumulated work.
Before the agreed meeting time, Garrett called impatiently to hurry me along.
“Almost there,” I said.
Garrett wasn’t buying my excuse. “Don’t just say it with your mouth. Move it!”
“Get over here, baby!”
Suppressing my annoyance, I hung up on him.
The drive from my villa to Zero Bar took 40 minutes.
At 11:20 PM, I parked my car in a roadside space and locked it with the remote.
A gust of wind swept past, and I pulled my coat tighter around me as I made my way to the bar’s entrance.
Mexico City’s bar district was the most chaotic area around. Fights, assaults, robberies, drug deals-criminal acts occurred frequently here. But that didn’t stop the hedonistic crowd from partying all night.
I declined a cigarette offered by a passerby, sidestepped a kissing couple, and made my way upstairs to the VIP lounge.
Unlike the chaotic first floor, the VIP rooms-only available by reservation-were relatively quieter.
Following Garrett’s directions, I found the room he’d reserved.
“Hey, Bert, I knew you wouldn’t run away!”
Garrett shouted excitedly as I pushed the door open. Sitting in the lead singer’s spot with a microphone, he cheered, “You’re late, my friend. Time for your punishment!”
The room was filled with five or six others, likely friends Garrett had invited. They whooped and cheered in support of his so-called punishment.
I raised my wrist to check the time-11:30:02.
Two seconds late.
I accepted a whiskey glass from one of Garrett’s friends and raised it in acknowledgment. “I’m late. My apologies.”
“Cheers!”
“Another one!”
Encouraged by their jeers, I downed three glasses of whiskey before they finally let me off the hook.
Garrett clapped me on the shoulder, laughing. “You’re such a good sport, Bert.”
I smiled and playfully jabbed him in the stomach with my elbow. “This is the last time, Garrett.”
He took the hint, laughing it off. “Come on, let me introduce you. This is Miss Joela Barnes.”
“She’s the niece of Mr. Barnes, the CEO of Barnes Group,” Garrett whispered to me.
Joela Barnes?!
When our eyes met, I froze for a moment.
Securing a partnership with Barnes Group was indeed one of my goals for coming to Mexico. But I hadn’t expected Joela to have such a direct connection to them.
“It’s been a long time, Bert.” Joela extended her hand gracefully.
Garrett’s eyes widened. “You two know each other?”
“Of course,” Joela replied. “We once shared the same graduate advisor. But for personal reasons, I left the program early.”
She raised her glass elegantly, the amber liquid refracting an almost blinding light under the room’s illumination. “So, how is Sienna these days?”