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“Then how are we supposed to find her?”
“She has ‘Find My iPhone’ enabled for my account.”
“But what if she’s turned it off?”
Roderigo smirked. “If she does, she doesn’t get her monthly allowance – and there’s no way she’s going to pass that up.”
“Too many shoes to buy,” another man said mockingly.
“What if she doesn’t have her phone on her?” I asked.
Everyone on the boat laughed at that one.
“It’s surgically attached to her hand,” Roderigo said. “She’ll have it.”
I thought for a second. Something wasn’t sitting right with me.
“Are you the only one who could track her with ‘Find My iPhone’?” I asked.
“No, there are several of us.”
“Like Giotto? Or somebody else who might have betrayed your employer?”
The blood slowly drained from Roderigo’s face. He notched up the throttle a second later so we went a little faster.
Now he was finally getting it.
“Just in case, anybody got a picture so I’ll recognize her?” I asked.
One of the younger suits snorted. “Just look at her socials. Instagram’s her favorite… at the moment.”
I pulled out my phone. “What do I search for – Lucia Fioretti?”
“No. Principessa puttana della mafia.”
‘Mafia princess bitch.’
Several of the guys chuckled.
I glared at the guy who’d said it. “I don’t think your employer would appreciate – ”
“It’s her handle,” he interrupted. “Go ahead, look it up – all one word.”
I raised one eyebrow, but I typed it into Google –
And lo and behold, an Instagram account popped up.
When I opened it, I began to understand the men’s attitudes.
There were hundreds of pictures of a young, very pretty woman. She had a cherubic face with huge brown eyes, full lips, and flawless skin. Her long dark hair was fashionably cut and styled differently in each photograph. She was also quite short – maybe a bit over 5 feet – and petite. Overall, she gave the impression of a beautiful life-size doll.
She was also extremely spoiled.
Now, I wear expensive clothes. I need them custom-made because my frame is so large – but my suits and shirts are of the highest quality. So I don’t begrudge anyone a taste for luxury.
But I don’t flash designer labels for the hell of it. I try to be understated.
Lucia was the very definition of ‘ostentatious.’
