I looked at my watch: five minutes to eleven o'clock. One hour had passed since we entered the guest parlor—one painfully long hour. Sitting down didn't suit my nerves, so I walked around studying the decor. No dust, just a bitter scent of old reigned all throughout the opening. And even though the walls showcased amazing portraits and incredible landscapes, the atmosphere inside stayed undeniably rigid. Four large windows let the warm sunlight in, the abundant brilliance reaching into all four corners of the room. Beautiful, except I didn't find it romantic anymore. I pondered in silence, lost in my thoughts. I noticed the police captain approaching only when the floor screeched beneath his footsteps. "You resemble the Bella Dona di Pontefici," he said with a straight face. "Did you know that?" "It was painted over four-hundred years ago. So... I highly doubt that." "You can't take a compliment, do you?" "It's an unrealistic one at best. Because of the style of the arti
I didn't want to sound desperate but otherwise, I'd burst without some answers. "Can we talk in private?" I asked, mustering the courage to yank on his vest. Cosimo nodded and showed the way to a corner table. But just as I stepped away from the second station, the security officer sitting at the fourth desk raised his hand. Cosimo went to him and they whispered something back and forth in Italian. He then signaled towards me to step closer. "Put it on the screen," he said in a serious tone. The young man eyeballed him with a baffled look on his face. "Presto, presto (faster, faster)," Cosimo said, noticing the man’s hesitation while reaching a headset towards me. He took a step back, placed the gadget on his ears, and waited with his hands in his pockets. I did the same. This wireless technology canceled the external sounds quite well. Instead of the typing and clicking, my fast heartbeats and quick breaths stuffed my ears full. Great. I probably have a booger, I th
Cosimo would hear our conversation if I called her. So I typed a brief email instead, hoping he wouldn’t catch what I was up to. Hi. How are you doing? I was wondering if you could do me a favor. I need background information on a certain Irina Vlad. She’s in close relations with the Medici family, she does modeling in Florence, and she’s a Romanian national. That's all I know. Dig up the skeletons in her closet, will you? Looking forward to your reply. Regards, Tamira. I put my phone away, somewhat relieved. We work with an old-school private detective. He might be outdated, but he’s just as resourceful as McGyver when it comes to sniffing out dirt on a client. The best thing is, he works for us incognito. And considering the fact that the Medici pretty much-controlled everything, not just in Citta del Salvatore and Pontefici but also globally, we had to do it without their knowledge. Then I remembered it would be beneficial if I knew a bit more about Luca too. I pulled my device
The elevator doors swooshed open and I stormed out. My furious steps startled Miss Caige, the middle-aged secretary guarding the entrance to the office. "You're late, Miss Banks," she said without delay, her fingers dancing on the keyboard. "Only by two minutes." She looked at me with a wolf-like stare. "Twelve," she said, pointing to the round clock hanging behind her head. "The manager has asked for you." "Thank you," I muttered as I searched for my ID pass. My hands shook as they roamed through the contents of my handbag. I hope he won't hit on me again. I shivered from disgust as I remembered what had happened the last time he asked me into his office. Disgusting asshole! A sharp click made me jump. Miss Caige opened the doors and looked at me with a fake smile. I thanked her with a quick nod and entered. God, she must think I'm incompetent, I thought as I threw my bag onto my desk. Sofia popped her head over my cubicle and greeted me with a genuine smile. We star
I stormed out of Russo's office completely brain-fried. He laid out all the rules and regulations I already knew about, but he had to look the part of a leader in front of his client. So suffocating. I needed to catch the 2:30 pm tram/trolley bus to Piazza Mercato. My groceries were running low and I was out of meat and dairy. I loved strolling along past the stalls, enjoying the fabulous blend of rich smells and vivid colors. A true convention under the blue sky: all sorts of people coming and going, merchants shouting out loud about their daily offers, and customers bargaining for a lower price--a delight for my big-city self. One thing I hated was the fully packed tram ride. Traffic was horrible between the hours of one and three o'clock in the afternoon. Jams upon jams in this Tuscan hell turned that vehicle into the fastest public transport available in Citta del Salvatore (City of the Saviour). And I wouldn't want to be caught in a matchbox taxi. Even though the tram was
Citta del Salvatore wasn't a big city. It was more of a fishing town situated between Florence and Pisa. And all the traffic between the two went through here. Nonno (Grandpa) used to own a fishing shack in his youth, somewhere along the Flux. And Nonna used to tell the tale of how he fished her out of the river one early summer and they fell madly in love. But she stopped talking about him after she found out about his affair with the baker's wife. Are all men unfaithful? I wondered as I locked gazes with Cosimo. He sat in front of me flashing his signature arrogant smirk. With no shame whatsoever, he eyeballed me the whole way to Porto Luce, while keeping his left arm extended on ‘Miss Top Model in Florence's’ shoulders. She was so invested in playing SweetSmash; she didn't even flinch when Cosimo adjusted his pants and re-positioned his penis. I quickly glanced away, but I could not unsee his swollen groin area. Besides this, that stupid sound the icons made every time they
"Welcome aboard the Belezza (Beauty)," Cosimo said, reaching out a hand to help me in. He was an arrogant ass, but there was something in the tone of his voice that caught my attention. And hearing him speak English with a soft Italian accent just made me giggle like a naughty schoolgirl. I settled on the open deck with a canopy that provided shade to the whole rear of the boat. Irina went inside to indulge in a cold drink, while the two men discussed something boat-related in Italian. I chose to stay outside and let the wind play with my hair while admiring the God-given nature and the man-made riverbank. And as I sat there, my thoughts kept turning back to Cosimo. His smile, his speech, and even that perverted smirk drew me in. If only he weren't such a dick, I thought, standing up and leaning over the rail. I popped my sunglasses on and enjoyed the ripple of the water. I can't explain why, but I always fancied foreign guys over British lads. Maybe they just seemed to lack
I expected to see my life flashing in front of my eyes. My childhood in York and the summers spent with Nonna, or majoring in history and ending up selling insurance for the wealthy. That wasn't so bad, though. I took a couple of courses and put on my high heels at the right time to climb higher, landing an investigator position a year after. This mind of mine was full of mystery, for now, I found myself in the air on a ladder, thinking to myself, "I'm ready for this interview. Can't wait for my promotion." A lift waited with open doors at the top of the ladder. It was about to close, so I hurried up. "Wait for me, please," I shouted to the person inside it. He placed his foot between the closing gap and stepped aside when I rushed inside. In the reflection, I caught a glimpse of my glossy heels and fine silk stockings. Their darker shade accentuated my ankles and calves, making my legs look leaner. I turned around to thank the gentleman for his kindness only to gasp in sho