Chapter 112

Book:The Italian Published:2024-5-31

It’s 11:00 a. m.
Lorenzo and I are sitting at my desk, contemplating life. We’ve been talking for two hours.
A lot has happened in the last seven days. I’m engaged to be married. There’s impending fatherhood. Not to forget Sophia’s tragic death.
I’m overwhelmed and overwrought, and I had to talk to someone, so I told him everything. Lorenzo knows about the baby, and he knows my deepest fears. He knows I despise my father and grandfather for passing their dark life onto me.
He knows how badly I want Lombardi dead.
He will not get away with this. I will avenge Sophia’s death if it’s the last thing I do.
My phone rings, and the name Davidoff lights up the screen. It’s the police commissioner.
“Hello.”
“Enrico, I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop it.”
“What?”
“A warrant has just been issued for your arrest.” I close my eyes and exhale heavily.
Great.
“They’re on their way to your office right now. Get the hell out of there.”
I hold the phone to my ear for a moment, numb and dumbstruck. In all of my family’s history, a Ferrara has never been arrested.
“Thank you.” I hang up and stand. “The Carabinieri are on their way. We need to go.”
“What are we going to do?” Lorenzo frowns.
My eyes meet his, and I know that everything we just spent the last two hours debating is about to come into fruition.
This isn’t a choice anymore. It has to happen.
At least this will give me some time and allow me to come back to Italy unannounced. Then I can kill Lombardi and take him out of action for good.
For Sophia.
Being dead is the perfect alibi.
Diabolical.
But first, we have to get out.
Adrenaline begins to surge through my system, and I know the odds are against us. I dial Olivia’s number.
“Hello,” she answers.
“It’s go time.”
“What is?”
“Get your belongings. You have five minutes until you leave. Throw a few things into a bag. “What? Where are we going?”
“Away. Your plan from last night is about to happen. Right now, Olivia. A warrant has been issued for my arrest.”
“Enrico,” she whispers. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly.”
“What… w-what will I pack?” she stammers, her voice rising.
“Whatever the fuck you want. Marly will be waiting outside for you. Hurry.”
“Okay.”
“Olivia, stay calm, and whatever you do, don’t tell anyone anything about this.”
“Oh my God, Enrico, are you sure about this? It seems so very drastic.”
“We have no choice. We’ve been backed into a corner. This will just give us some time to prove the drugs aren’t mine.”
“Yes, yes, okay,” she whispers. “You’re right.” She sighs. “See you soon.”
Olivia
I sit in the back of the car and wait. We’re parked on the tarmac at the airport.
We were whisked through the security gates and allowed to drive straight through to the Ferrara jet as it was being refueled.
About ten minutes ago, the pilot and a stewardess boarded. They weren’t Italian.
Who were they? And if Enrico got them at such short notice, how much did he fucking pay?
My heart is in my throat. What if this plan backfires?
What if we don’t get away in time?
Will we both be thrown in jail for obstructing justice? God, I feel sick.
“What’s taking them so long?” I ask Marly.
He peers up into the rearview mirror. “They’ll be here soon.”
I close my eyes. Fear has infiltrated every cell of my body. Just getting here without other security was tough enough. I’m being watched for every moment of the day now. Marly lied and said he had to take me to a beauty appointment around the corner in Lake Como. With a few grumbles from the other guards, they finally agreed to let him take me on his own.
Now, we’re here at the airport, planning an escape. It’s a plan we are being forced into taking. We’re lying to everyone. We have no idea who we can trust anymore.
I put my hand over my stomach. Fuck. Imagine if I’m pregnant and in jail. I’ll be one of those women you see on cable with no teeth and two black eyes.
My eyes widen. What if I get deported?
“Oh my God, Marly,” I gasp. “What in the hell is taking them so long? Call someone.”
“Here they are,” he says.
I turn and see the black Mercedes pulling in through the gates. My eyes roam to behind their car. Is anyone following?
The car pulls up beside us, and Enrico gets out. He’s wearing his customary navy suit and tie. He offers me a calm and sexy smile as he opens my car door.
“Hello, my love.”
“Hi.” I climb out carefully. How the hell does this man look so in control when this is an out of control fucking situation?
He takes my hand. “Where is your bag?”
“In the trunk.”
Marly retrieves it for us and passes it over.
Enrico shakes his hand. “Thank you, Marly… for everything. You will be well promoted within Ferrara for your loyalty.” He turns to Lorenzo. “See to it that this happens this week.”
“Yes, sir,” Lorenzo replies with a nod. “Of course.”
Enrico leads me up the stairs of the plane, and I take one last look around.
“Olivia, time is of the essence,” Enrico reminds me.
“Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Smith.” The captain smiles.
“Hello.” I’m quite sure that there is an unwritten rule somewhere to never lie to the pilot who is flying your plane.
Bad Karma or some shit.
I fake a smile as we pass him.
Don’t be alarmed. You’re just smuggling the mafia boss of Italy out of the country so that he can fake his own death. You won’t go to prison or anything if we all get caught.
This is safe, safe, completely safe.
Fuck…
I feel sick.
I make my way up the aisle. The plane is filled with white leather recliner chairs. I’ve been in it before, although it didn’t seem to have the same importance then.
Lorenzo takes a seat near the front, while Enrico and I sit in the middle.
Enrico leans over, straps me in, and then sits back, waiting for take-off.
Meanwhile, I’m perspiring.
The stewardess walks up the aisle. “Can I get you anything, Mr. Smith?” she asks.
“An amaretto and a mineral water with ice, please.”
“Of course, sir.”