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“To all of this? To Spago’s owner, to me, to–” I look at his face which is now beginning to get red.
“You stumbled onto something you can’t comprehend. Something you have no knowledge of. It’s a game with stakes I do not expect you to understand; and clearly, you don’t wish to understand.” A flicker of frustration crosses my face but I press on.
“What game? What stakes? Why am I even here!? I was just doing my job!”
“And I, mine, Ella.”
“Your job!? To beat up innocent people and threaten them? And if someone doesn’t comply by your rules, kidnap them? That’s your job?” He thumps his fist on the table and I go mute. Is he going to hit me? He smiles again. A little perkier this time. Is he bipolar or something?!
“Why do we keep getting off on the wrong foot?” Oh, you tell me, Don Tommaso. I shoot him an incredulous look.
"Maybe because you drugged and kidnapped me? What have I done to be dragged into whatever twisted world you're a part of? You were doing your dirty business at a restaurant and I have to pay for it?" His tone turns stern, his gaze piercing through me.
"You cannot publish the article. What I did was necessary and I don’t like any limelight on my matters."
“You nearly killed an innocent man, for god’s sake! You cannot get away with that saying it was necessary!”
“There are lines that shouldn’t be crossed. Be mindful of that, Ella.”
Undeterred, I raise an eyebrow. "So, what? You're the keeper of these lines? The judge and jury of what should or shouldn't be exposed in my articles?"
"You make me sound like a cruel autocrat. But yes, that’s one way to go about it.” He smirks.
My mind races with more questions, but I choose my next words carefully. "Why not just kill me, then? If I'm such a threat, why keep me alive?"
A hint of a smirk plays on Tommaso's lips. "Death is too easy. You're here to witness the repercussions of your mistake." I gawp at him.
“I would’ve killed you if I had wanted to, but I haven’t.’ He smacks his lips and raises one eyebrow.
“Should I be grateful?’ I snap.
“Respectful at least.” The audacity.
He feigns a contemplative expression, tapping his chin. "But you know, hating me aside, you've got spunk. Most people in your situation would be trembling with fear."
I snort. "Fear? Please." I try my best to hide it and look away. I look at the room, the lavish furniture, the luxury, everything contrasts with the reality, his reality.
"You're pure evil," the words escape my lips. My eyes meet his, searching for any flicker of remorse or humanity beneath the composed exterior of the mafioso before me. Nothing. Just anger.
“Too simple a label for me. And you’ve written worse. In that article of yours,” he tilts his face, “What was it? Dark, monstrous, brutal and evil.”
So he read it. Good for him. I can feel his eyes on me.
“You see, it’s not about choice here. Morality is not necessary for survival in–”
“Oh, please, don’t paint yourself as some tragic figure.”
“You know nothing about me or my past,” his voice gets louder. “Everything you see around me came with a cost.” He inches closer, his jaw tightly clenched as if trying to contain the boiling fury within him.
“A cost innocent people like Mr. Smith have to pay?” My heart quickens its pace as I watch his face darken, his brows furrowing with an intensity I've never seen before.
“I've built more than an empire, Ella. I've created roads for survival, prosperity even.” His voice is louder than before and I feel his gaze on me.
“Answer my question.” He gets near me and lifts my chin with his index finger. I can no longer look in his eyes and I avert my gaze. I can smell his perfume and feel the heat radiating from his body. It’s weirdly intoxicating.
“My ways maintain order in the chaos. Have you seen the streets in LA’s underbelly? Do you know what keeps them breathing? ME, Ella. I do.” He gets closer and I feel his lips brushing against my nose. I freeze. He suddenly shifts back, grinning.
“Are you trying to show me a sanitized version of your world, like yourself?” I spit out, wiping my face with the napkin.
