13 | Emergency

◆ MILES ◆

"Vases? Stuffing them in stupid jars? Really?" I watched my mother sit back in the elegant swivel chair. At my tone, her perfect brows creased and her reaction denoted confusion. "A ten-year-old could come up with better ideas, Mamma." I sighed and bit back the urge to swear. What I'd discovered just minutes ago now convinced me how big of a mistake it was to ask Mykaela to come with us.

Where the heck was my father and cousin? But my mother being here should be able to straighten out a few things; I had a nagging feeling she knew all about it.

Just another branch of the family business, seemed like. Impatiently, I paced around the study room filled with books and paperwork. I couldn't help but examine my mother's flimsy attempt at pretending to be busy.

My Mamma Eleana sat behind a large desk, her prim manicured fingers flipping through the pages of a ledger. On the desk stood piles and piles of paperwork. A teacup the same white shade as her wrinkle-free dress sat next to a pile.

"You're dealing with cartels now?" I crossed my arms below my chest, indignant but keeping a restrained tone. I glanced at the door. Shut closed. But I forgot to lock it. Whatever. This shouldn't take long. "Or just Ricchar?"

"Excuse me?"

"Right." I grinned at my mother's stiff and guiltless response. "Act like you don't know shit." I shook my head and added a loud scoff of disappointment.

"Watch your tone, Maxim."

"I'm taking her with me. We're leaving."

"What? Wait—" Mamma regarded me with wrinkled brows and a mild scowl.

"Where's Pappa?"

"I don't know."

"Mykaela's got a flight to catch. We're ready to go."

"Now?" She frowned again. "I don't understand. What's the matter?" My Mamma Eleana finally stood up from the swivel chair, obviously bothered by the finality in my statement. "It's your birthday tomorrow."

I just stared. Actually I couldn't care less.

"We came here to celebrate with family," my mother reasoned in a calmer voice. "I barely get to see you anymore." She sighed. "Why leave this early?"

Her dissatisfaction and sad eyes held my attention, but I was too fixated on something else to care. "Her dad's in the hospital. She's going back to New York."

"Hospital? Is he alright?" Mamma asked with rather genuine concern.

"Critical." I propped my hands on my hips. "Where's Pappa?"

At my persistence, Mamma avoided my curious stare and put the ledger away. "I think he drove out with Ricchar."

So much for weekend family time. I rubbed my face, disappointed but not really surprised.

Of course we didn't travel all the way down here just to celebrate a special day with the family. My father brought us here mainly so he could check on the business. Hitting two birds with one stone was just a tad of my father's noteworthy talents.

"You can leave tomorrow. Okay?"

"I have to drive Mykaela to the airport now," I replied. It was a bit of a lie but we had to leave. Had she bought a plane ticket already? I didn't even get to ask.

"Wait. So, Mykaela's leaving the country?" Mamma wore a fairly surprised look now. "You told her...what we talked about over dinner?"

"That you hate the idea of me living with her without your approval? You haven't really been subtle about it since yesterday."

"I didn't say we want her to leave, did I?" Mamma paused, her reaction one of discomfiture. "Does she think so?"

"She's going back home to visit her dad in the hospital. No other reason." I eyed the door. Now I was just itching to get out of this place.

"Wait for your Pappa."

"I'm driving her to the airport in an hour."

My unusually brusque tone made my mother sit back down, only to check on more paperwork. "I know what you see in her." Her lips curved up in a small smile. "Would do you both a favor if you just told her what she needs to hear."

Oh great. Now we were about to discuss relationships again, and my being allergic to practically anything that had something to do with long-term commitment.

"She's special, dear." My mother even gave me assuring nods and another fleeting smile. "You don't know how much yet, but, you will."

"Look, Mamma," I sighed. Shit. I should just come clean. "She's just a friend."

"A friend you wanna hang out with everyday?"

"What? No."

"No?"

I checked my phone. The heck's Ricchar up to now? The guy wouldn't take my calls. Didn't even reply to my texts.

"You don't want it to get too serious, for now," my mother went on with a smirk. "Which I get. I mean, we've all been there. You're worried it'll ruin your friendship."

"Mamma..."

"What?" Her tone shifted and denoted slight annoyance. "You don't make time for us anymore. But I still know you better than yourself. Don't ever forget that."

Oh jeez. This stupid weekend-long pretense was just backfiring to no end. "Mamma, we were never a couple. We lied. Sorry."

"What?" Mamma frowned and gestured for me to sit down. "Why?"

"She's got plans. I'm not part of them," I replied while holding back another scowl. Lying to her face again would only make me feel like a spineless moron all weekend. "It's her life; I'm not stopping her."

◆

◇ KEL ◇

"Where were you?"

"Talking to Mamma."

"Will she join us?"

"No."

"Oh. Okay." I stared at Miles the whole time he rushed down the stairs, forcing me to keep up with his bigger strides.

No one was left in the patio when he guided me towards the outdoor dining area. Fresh breakfast dishes lined up on the outdoor table. The vibrant colors held my attention as I noticed the long dining table could seat a dozen people. Also, two plates and glasses had been left untouched. For me and Miles?

"Stay here." Miles glanced around before he pulled a seat for me. "Eat."

"You won't eat with me?" I muttered while he looked for someone. His parents, probably.

"I'll just talk to Ricchar and Pappa." Miles ignored my confusion and walked back towards the quiet mansion.

Hiding a frown took some effort as I watched him walk off.

Did he really have to leave me alone out here?

Tall and thick trees deflected the sunlight, providing a cooling shade. They surrounded this outdoor dining area that reminded me of simple times, back when my family lived in the countryside. Their impressive size just made you feel small and...closed in.

Nonetheless I tried to enjoy the scent of all these beautiful dishes waiting for my attention. I sat down. The unlit candles on the table were from last night.

Wait here and eat alone. Fine. I didn't need to be told twice. What I would need later was a pretty good explanation for all this weirdness.

Trying to put two and two together, I put my palms together and said grace alone. Never mind Miles' strangely unpleasant reaction to the broken vase. My stomach wasn't revolting from hunger yet, but the food just looked and smelled too good to ignore. So I dug in.

Where did Mr. Falco go? Would Ricchar's wife be here before noon?

The boxful of vases in the bathroom were just...odd.

What were they for? Stocked interior decor? Did they sell vintage stuff as well? Or they were intended for the family's hotel chain.

But what really upset Miles?

Unanswered questions muddled my thoughts as I tasted some of the soup. Every few seconds, I glanced behind to check if he was back.

A uniformed maid approached the table to serve me drinks. I smiled at the woman. At last I was no longer alone out here in this huge garden. Eerily quiet, too. The thick winding vines around trees much bigger than me just stimulated my dark imagination.

"Caffè, Signorina?" the maid offered with a tight smile, her fairly wrinkled hands clasping a coffee pot.

"Per favore. Grazie." I watched how the older woman's hands trembled as she poured me a warm cup of coffee. Her unsteady grip spilled some on the pristine tablecloth. "If I may ask... Do you have arthritis?"

"Non, Signorina. Scusi. Scusi." The maid muttered something in Italian before using a rag to take care of the mess.

"No. It's fine. Have you had breakfast yet?" I put on another smile and watched as the woman focused on scrubbing the stain off the white cloth.

"Sì, Signorina." The maid bowed her head courteously, but her pleasantness mostly included nervous smiles.

Why was she avoiding eye contact and throwing cautious glances around us? "My Italian's still terrible. Sorry." I sighed and chuckled to somehow ease the woman's nerves. "Thanks for the coffee. What's your name again?"

"Ofelia," the maid replied in her thick accent. Her small, bashful smile creased suntanned skin.

"You okay?"

"Sì."

"Have you seen Miles?" I leaned my upper body closer to her when the confused look on her face only drew more lines on her forehead.

Oh. Right. Here they all called him 'Maxim' or 'Maximiliano'.

"I mean, Maxim."

"Signorino— Ah, with Signora Eleana. They are in the office."

"Ah. Second floor, right?"

"Sì."

"Thanks." I stood up and glanced around. No sign of Miles. Maybe I should just wait outside the office slash study room? "Ms. Ofelia, could you take me there?"

◇

Ofelia guided me back into the mansion until we reached the grandiosely decorated second floor.

Miles. Study room. His parents. Were they discussing something important in private? Something more important than the broken vase?

"Mi scusi, Signorina."

"Yes?" I looked to Ofelia.

"I need to finish cleaning," she said before walking away.

"Thank you." I watched the older woman rush back down the stairs. Her oddly anxious behavior just made me think. Why so queasy?

As I waited outside the large wooden doors to Ricchar's study room, I sat down and checked my phone.

Three new messages. The texts were an instant reminder of my family's fraught situation back home in Schenectady.

2 new messages

From: Jill

"What time's your flight? Mom keeps asking"

Received 10:49AM

"Dr. Chase wants to test your blood. Pls be here by tom."

Received 11:04AM

1 new message

From: Mommy

"K, please call ASAP."

Received 11:09AM

◇

"No! Please! Signora!"

"Cloe!"

I jumped off my seat.

That was Ricchar's voice. And a woman's shriek. A string of muttered curses echoed from downstairs, startling me upright. Footsteps, muted groans, and other strange noises followed.

I stared at the entrance to the study room one last time, then rushed to the staircase.

Ricchar and the Falcos' security guards...

The maid was muttering prayers and wiping tears off her face. Two armed men carried an unconscious redhead across the hallway.

Blood covered the wounded woman's face, neck, and twitching shoulders. One of the guards almost tripped.

What on Earth?

"Nel basamento! Basamento!" Ricchar shouted at the bodyguards clumsily transporting the injured woman across the hallway. Ricchar held a coat. It might have belonged to the woman. The brown cloth looked stained with blood.

"Charr!" My legs almost buckled. Probably shock. "Ricchar!" I called out from the top of the staircase.

But he didn't even turn around to look at me. And why tell the guards to bring the injured woman down the basement?

It made no sense. What the heck happened? Did they even know first aid? Did they call the police? They should. Was there an ambulance on the way?

Might take a while. This estate was remote.

As my breathing grew shallow, my heart pumped loudly, my chest tightening up. My legs felt somewhat numb, tingly. Crap. "Relax. Breathe in, then out..." I stealthily followed the group after rushing down the mansion's staircase.

Ricchar seemed worried sick. He was stroking the woman's face every chance he could get. But, why the basement? Who was the redhead? Why was she freakin' covered in blood?

"It's fine. Not a murder. Not yet at least. She's still alive." I took deep breaths, tensely murmuring baseless suspicions to myself.

The utter curiosity kept my feet moving through the spacious mansion. The smooth beige carpet got ruined by fresh trails of blood. What could have resulted in that poor woman being in her current disastrous state?

My mind drew blanks at the possible scenarios. "Who are you people..." I hastened my steps.

Ricchar appeared to be fighting off tears as the guards carried the woman across the living room. Was it Cloe? His wife? What the heck happened to her? Why bring her down there instead of rushing her to the hospital?

"Signorina."

A frail and familiar voice stopped me in my tracks. Ofelia ran towards me, clutching the wounded woman's bloodstained coat. "Ms. Ofelia, who's the—"

"Signore said...no one can go down there," the maid informed in a muted voice. Her brown eyes looked tearful.

"I was trained in a hospital. In first aid. I can help," I tried to say louder while briskly crossing the hallway. "They should've brought her to the hospital."

"No. They d-don't like hospital." Ofelia stopped in the middle of the hall.

"I'm medically trained. Where are they?"

◇