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Ricardo felt the direct sun on his face for the first time in weeks. But it was only temporary. As the porter turned around and reentered the hospital, Giuseppe took over the direction of his chair. He wheeled him directly into a van that his company had on-site and waiting. The sun faded as Ricardo entered the darkness of the back of the van. There was, however, a glimpse of light that still managed to show through.
Ordinarily, he would be frightened, considering his demise was on the horizon, but Ricardo was too uncomfortable and too mentally exhausted to even be frightened.
“Where are you taking me again?” Ricardo asked. He kind of cared, but even as he asked the question, he wasn’t even sure why he asked. “To my death?”
Massimo had spent a long day at the office. All he wanted to do was go home and relax. He hadn’t quite decided what that kind of relaxation looked like, but he had a few things in mind, one of which included his broken wife. That’s how he referred to her ever since she got out of the hospital with the diagnosis. He struggled to like her before they got married after they had not known each other. Massimo understood that she was critical to his ascent to CEO, and so he tried to make the best of it. He tried to be amenable to the idea of loving her because it would be easier to build a life with her, so she would be amenable to having his babies.
But since she was possibly incapable of that, Massimo shifted his thoughts about her. He looked at her differently because his possibilities were possibly limited. He contemplated getting sexual satisfaction outside of their marriage like he’d gotten it before, but it was much more satisfying to take it from whom he was legally bound to take it from. She vowed to submit in the sight of God and a host of witnesses, right?
After parking the car, Massimo entered the house. He put his briefcase down and looked around for Isotta. She frequently greeted him when he got off work. But as he put his jacket on the hanger and placed it in the closet, there was no Isotta.
“Good evening, Mr. Ricci,” Rosa greeted.
“Good evening, Rosa.”
“Shall I serve your dinner in the dining room, or would you rather have it in your study?”
“The study is fine,” Massimo replied, still looking around, waiting for his wife to appear. But she didn’t. “Where’s Isotta?” He asked.
“I’m not sure, sir,” Rosa said, preparing to walk into the kitchen to secure his dinner.
“She’s not here?”
“No,” Rosa replied. “I thought she went to her parents’ home earlier today. You all didn’t speak?”
“No,” Massimo answered. “I was pretty busy all day.”
“Well, why don’t you call her and see where she is?” Rosa commented. “I’m sure she’s fine.” Rosa padded off toward the kitchen.
Massimo mounted the stairs. Maybe Isotta had slipped back into the house unbeknownst to Rosa. He made his way into the bedroom, making sure to peek into each room along the way. He didn’t see her in any of those rooms, nor did he see Isotta when he entered his bedroom.
“Isotta?” He called out. Possibly, she was in the bathroom or maybe even the closet. She was nowhere to be found, at least not in the bedroom. Massimo looked around the rest of the house. He looked casually but with intention. When he didn’t find her, Massimo considered just waiting.
“Dinner is served, sir,” another servant in the house advised.
Massimo followed the servant into the dining room. He waited until his set was pulled out and then sat down. Rosa brought his meal in and served it to him.
“If you need anything else, I’ll be in the kitchen,” she advised.
Massimo started to eat his dinner, but he was plagued by the idea of where his wife was. It wasn’t like her to go unaccounted for, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed her number. Massimo was sure she would answer, saying that she’d lost track of time and that she was on her way home. He listened as the phone rang once and then twice. Massimo listened as her phone rang a third time and then went to voicemail.
“Isotta, call me. I thought you’d be home when I arrived.”
Chapter Four
“What demands did you make?” Isotta asked after hours of being bound but not gagged.
“He’s not going to answer the question,” Celestina fussed. “He hasn’t answered any of our other questions. He’s not going to answer that one.”
Isotta ignored her mother and focused her attention on their captor.
“What demands did you make?” She insisted.
Alessandro got up from the lounge chair he sat in and crossed the room. He stood in front of them as he’d done before with the light on. No sense in hiding.
“I didn’t make any demands,” Alessandro crooned, getting ultimate satisfaction in interacting with two frightened women whom he hated. “I thought I would let them miss you first.”
Isotta drew back, appalled by his response.
