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"Trust me, Papà," I whisper, momentarily forgetting my own fear as I focus on reassuring him.
Just then, the deafening roar of an explosion reverberates through the car. I glance out to see one of Rafaele's men expertly taking out the tires of a pursuing vehicle, sending it careening off the road in a cloud of dust.
"Rafaele's men are trained well for this job," I say, forcing confidence into my voice as I watch another man hurl a grenade at a second enemy car. The resulting explosion sends panic rippling through our attackers, creating a window of opportunity for us to escape.
"Take the next left!" Rafaele shouts to the driver, who quickly swerves the car around a tight corner, barely avoiding a collision with a parked vehicle.
As we speed away from the chaos, I feel a wave of regret settling in my chest. The gravity of our situation dawns on me: stealing the diamond is far more dangerous than I initially thought. This isn't just about working for Rafaele anymore – it's about our very survival.
If I’m risking my life to get this stone for Rafaele Bressan, I need to understand just how valuable this diamond is and why people are willing to kill and be killed for it.
I turn to him, his eyes are on the roads behind, while the driver covers the front.
“Rafaele,” I check before we proceed. “Are we safe?”
He doesn’t respond but instead picks up his phone. “Leonardo, are we in the clear?” he barks into it.
“Boss,” Leonardo’s voice comes through the speaker. “We blasted one and shot out the tires on the other. There were more cars, but we led them on a chase in the opposite direction. It should be safe for you get back to the compound now and shutter the gates when you do. We’ll get in when we do.”
With a nod from Rafaele, the driver accelerates along the winding roads, leaving the chaos of the chase behind us. My heart still races, but a sense of relief washes over me as our car speeds towards safety.
But now I’ve got a serious conversation ahead of me. I need to see what we’re in for.
“Rafaele,” I begin. He turns to look at me, stoic and composed, as though tonight never happened. There’s not a single line of fear, or relief, on his cold face.
He parts his eyes and raises his hands towards the sky, almost in annoyance. “Speak, will you?”
“I need to see.”
“See what?”
“I need to see what this diamond looks like.”
“It’s a diamond – what do diamonds look like,” Rafaele shuts me down.
“Hey, look here,” I almost scream, reaching over and grabbing his arm. "I want to see the diamond. I need to know what we're risking our lives for. Don’t you understand?"
I attempt to control my breathing, my heart pounding like a drum in my chest. I focus on the rhythmic sound it creates, trying to block out the terrifying images of gunfire and explosions and the terror on my father’s face, the guilt in his voice from thinking that he dragged me into this.
Rafaele looks at my father and then at me. Without a hint of emotion, his fingers grip my wrist, hurting me as he pulls my hand off of him and straightens his jacket sleeve. There’s something about his action that makes my anger boil over. I grab his wrist in defiance and press my nails into his skin.
“How dare you treat us like dirt,” I nearly spit in his face. “We’re risking our lives for this mission to get back your alleged inheritance.” We’re staring each other down, all the while, my nails are drawing blood.
"Very well," he says, relaxing back into the seat, slightly tugging his wrist. I let him go from my grasp. My father lets go of the breath he was holding, and the tension in the car goes back to ‘we managed to avoid getting killed’ levels.
"I'll arrange for you both to see it tonight. Be prepared – and beware, because if you betray me after that, I’ll slit your throat myself." With that, he simply tucks his sleeve over his wrist, not once looking at the scratches I left behind.
Rage still vibrates in my every cell at his callousness towards us. “I’m sure you will,” I say through gritted teeth.
A few minutes later, we pull up to Rafaele's palatial compound, and the sight before me is nothing short of breathtaking. Of course, I deduced that our new employer was a rich man, the exorbitant fee he was willing to pay for our services, flaunting his wealth.
But never did I expect this level of grandeur. An elaborate, wrought-iron gate swings open, revealing a long driveway lined with meticulously trimmed hedges and lush trees, their leaves rustling softly in the night breeze.
The moonlight casts an ethereal glow on everything, from the towering marble statues to the ornate working fountains. My eyes drink in the beauty of the Italian estate.
We drive up to a massive, marble-clad mansion, where armed men stand guard at the entrance. The towering two-storied building, adorned with intricate marble designs, looms over our car like ancient sentinels guarding the gates of a dream.
"Welcome," Rafaele greets us with a cunning smile as though he knows his home speaks of his power, his midnight blue eyes sparkling like glistening, cold gems in the moonlight. "I trust you're ready to see what all the fuss is about?"
