Chapter 2

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 as old as Nonna

(Granny), it had its own lane free of everything else. 

The day had already been crazy. The missing ledger and the striking appearance of Cosimo di Maggio had stirred up my inner peace. 

I sought refuge in the coolness of the women's restroom to refresh myself before going on my break. The heatwaves of my embarrassment had turned my skin into a glistening surface. And while sweat left me sticky and itchy, it also did its part in cooling me down under the AC unit. Wind always felt good on wet skin. 

Then Cosimo's chiseled frame popped up in my mind. His dark, almond-shaped eyes really had a hypnotizing effect. 

Damn, he's so handsome. I chuckled at the thought of him sitting on the couch in front of me. Now that's a first impression he'll never forget. Thank God that meeting is over. 

Then I remembered I'd be moving into the Palazzo to observe and assist the police investigation, even though it wasn’t normal procedure.

What a load of crap. If they don’t find it, then by law, it will be deemed as lost and we’ll have to pay out the insurance on it. What's a mere historical artifact for one person, is a two billion Euro asset, set to make a fortune for another. And it might even yield higher if it turns up on the black market. But why not cash in the insurance money, then sell it to the highest bidder? Scumbags with no respect. 

As I pondered, the door pushed open and the woman I met earlier stumbled through the opening, scratching the marble floor with her ten-inch-high heels. They looked like glass needles as the shimmering material reflected the light back. I shrugged away as chills ran down my spine. 

Ugh, I hate needles.

She must have caught my eyes on her because she placed one hand on her hip while looking at her nails on the other. 

"You move in tomorrow, right?" she asked, rounding her words like Romanians do. 

"Yep," I answered, tapping my neck with the wet handcloth. 

Is she getting ready for a photo shoot or something? I thought, sizing up her reflection in the mirror. Her dress looked so tight that if she tried breathing normally, it would definitely rip on her. 

"I'm a top model in Florence," she said in a dead-serious tone, "and you're just a twig in a miniskirt. You make a move on Cosimo, I step on your neck." 

Her threat pinched my nerves. 

Oh, hell no. I'd want to see how you walk the runway with my twig-foot up your sophisticated ass, bitch. I’m at least a nice bit of English sausage. 

My tongue ran wild inside my head. Hearing my inner voice attack back while keeping my mouth shut turned into an insane struggle. I stared at her with flaming eyes, eager to ruin her nose job. But the rational side of my brain subdued my roaring temper, just in time to avoid a possible lawsuit. 

I flipped my hair to the right side and took a deep breath. 

"If you'd get your head out of the clouds, you'd see what type of man Cosimo is," I said in a serene manner, focusing on keeping my composure. "He's the one making the moves you know."

Irina stared at me speechless while I packed my things up. With the wet towel at hand, I headed towards the door, ready for the twenty-minute ride on the tram.

"Good luck keeping him in check," I said as I left her flashing her fake lashes at her own reflection. 

I rushed out of the building, her words lingering in my mind.

Step on my neck... How dare she? I'll show her who's going to be stepping on who! My anger steamed heavily, building up deep within me.

The yellow tram stopped at the station. My adrenaline spiked as I picked up the pace and flew down the stairs. The sound of my flat sandals flip-flopping on the marble followed me down. But I wasn’t fast enough. The tram was gone by the time I got there. 

"Va'a fare in culo! (Go fuck yourself!)" I shouted, smashing the towel to the ground. 

"You curse well for an English chick," someone said, amused by my accent and poor use of Italian. I turned to tell him to mind his own business but I kind of froze when I saw who stood behind me. 

"Signore di Maggio," was all I could squeeze out as I swallowed another nugget of embarrassment. 

"Can I give you a lift, Signorina Banks?" he asked, pointing at his car. 

I looked around for his watchdog girlfriend, but she was nowhere to be seen. I breathed out a sigh of relief and relaxed a little. 

"Thank you, but the traffic is tedious at this hour." 

Cosimo straightened his back and put his hands in his pockets. 

"Not to Porto Santa Luce (Port of Saint Light)," he said.

A boat? That's actually brilliant. Not many use the Flux as transport to get to places...

"I'm going to the Piazza Mercato . . . If you could let me off there—" 

"You can get off a few stops before the Piazza," he cut my sentence short. "I don't want the media going mad about this." 

"Yeah, those paparazzi . . . hateful bunch," I responded with a mock. 

"You will truly know only if you get in the spotlight. It's not fun. Shall we?" 

Cosimo led the way to his fancy car. It was so glossy I could see the birds flying by and the few puffy clouds gliding peacefully in the sky. 

My Goodness, I stared at my reflection. These sandals didn't go well with my skirt. They made my legs look thick. 

"Che cos'e? (What is it?)" he asked, looking back at me. 

"Nothing. Just if you kidnapped me, no one would be able to tell the police what kind of car you drove," I said laughing while hoping it wouldn't come to that. 

"You have a keen eye, signorina. This model has not hit the market yet. I designed it myself. It's an Aquila X." 

Actually, I have two keen eyes . . . plural. I thought as I hopped in. The airline business is expanding into luxury motorcars. Impressive.

To my absolute horror, I locked gazes with that wretched woman from the bathroom again. She looked like she wanted to stab me in the heart. But as soon as Cosimo sat next to her, her crazed expression transformed into that of a cute doe-eyed lamb.