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I nod, summoning a weak smile. “Would you like some food?” I ask.
“No, my dear. I’m not hungry.”
I nod and walk toward the kitchen to prepare something for myself. Without thinking, I make Papà a sandwich too. When I walk out, I find him standing by the door, and it looks like he’s stepping out.
“Papà…” I warn, worried about where he might be going, praying he’s not thinking of doing something stupid.
"It’s nothing, Romola," he almost sings, breaking the silence that has settled between us since I entered the room. "I need some air. I'm going for a walk."
"Are you speaking the truth?" I ask, my voice trembling with concern. The thought of him venturing out alone, trying to do something behind my back, is petrifying.
My father nods, giving me a reassuring smile. "I won't be long." He pats my hand gently, “We'll talk more when I return."
And with that, the door clicks shut behind him.
Chapter 12
Rafaele
I stand at the entrance of my mansion, shading my eyes from the high noon sun as I wait for Romola and Agostino's arrival. For a moment, I can feel the old familiar tightness settle in my chest – what if I fail? How would I wake up tomorrow and the day after, knowing I was so close but that it slipped through my grasp?
I swallow hard. The masquerade is our best chance to steal the Heart of Italy from Fiero, of course their tardiness concerns me, but it does not have to send me over the edge. That edge that I have been teetering on for so long, I don’t know what it feels like to live without it anymore. I sigh and try to shake off this foreboding feeling.
Last night, my driver reported back to me that the father and daughter pair were very careful when they spoke in his presence. They even made him drop them off at the wrong address. I am pleased that they seem to take my warnings seriously.
I am amused, however, that they truly believe I don’t already know where they live. I check my watch for what feels like the hundredth time, noticing the scratch marks Romola left on my wrist. Even rabbits kick hard—little rabbits, indeed—but I will make you bend to my will.
Tapping my foot impatiently on the marble floor, my eyes scan the driveway, searching for any sign of their car. Then, the glare catches my eye.
A sleek black cab finally pulls up, and I feel a small wave of relief wash over me. As Romola and Agostino step out of the vehicle, I chide them for being late.
"Three minutes, Agostino," I say coldly. "In my line of work, three minutes can be the difference between success and ruin - life or death."
My gaze moves to Romola, who is wearing an elegant, figure-hugging jumpsuit. The black lace and gold embroidered one-piece makes her look wealthy and sophisticated. You didn’t hire her to be dazzling.
She’s here to do a job, I grumble inwardly. But she does look like her name belongs on the guest list, and that way, she will be able to play her vital role in tonight’s plan. I have no comeback for that argument.
"Rafaele, we apologize for our tardiness," Agostino says simply, thankfully not bothering with an excuse. There’s nothing more annoying than an excuse.
"We have a lot to discuss," I say, my voice ice-cold. "In the future, being late will not be tolerated." My words are stern, and I can see them visibly tense at my tone, yet I don’t care. The stakes tonight are high. Reminding them that I hold both their lives in my hands is my way of keeping them in line and ensuring that everything goes according to plan.
I notice Agostino’s impeccably stitched suit and am very pleased to see my people followed the brief to the letter in preparing them for tonight’s event. They certainly both look the part. I offer my hand to Romola. She shifts her black velvet clutch and places a slender, gloved hand in mine.
I guide them to my private viewing room. The velvet curtains and soundproofing will ensure that we cannot be overheard by any of my staff. As father and daughter take a seat, I engage the big screen, pulling up a floorplan of the Cremaschi mansion. If either of them is impressed with this room, they’re not showing it. That's good; they should be focused on their task.
“This is where tonight’s ball will take place. I suspect that all of Rafaele’s private rooms are off-limits. However, some Dons like people to walk through their libraries and their dining rooms to bow down to their wealth and power. But there will be rooms, two or three, which no one may enter, not even the wait staff. Those rooms are precious and sacred. It’s these entrances that interest us the most. Sometimes, there are passageways from other rooms into the cherished ones. We are looking for those.”
“But how will we know?” Romola looks at me with lifted eyebrows. Agostino is looking at something in his lap.
“Wherever Fiero’s men are,” I frown, “those are the entries they will be guarding.” I shine the laser pointer on the blueprint to a room marked ‘study.’ "Here, behind one of Fiero's paintings, there is a hidden compartment. Once you're inside the study, find the painting of the stormy sea. It's the key to the secret compartment. I believe it may be where he keeps the diamond." I indicate the rooms on the plan as I speak, noticing that Agostino keeps looking at his watch.
“Do you have another appointment you need to get to?” I am seething at his lack of attention. This is my destiny, the reason I was born—to heal the Heart of Italy!
“I have cast aside friendships, love, even given up on ever having an heir in order to find and acquire the other half of my diamond, and you, you insult me by having something better to do than paying attention to your role?” my voice rises with every word.
Romola has risen and comes to stand protectively in front of her father, who is bent over in a coughing fit.
“Rafaele,” his voice comes out raspy. “I’m sorry. I know the timing isn’t ideal, but before we go, I have one request. I need to see the diamond again.”
