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“Yes, Lucia. What is it?”
“I'm sorry to bother you, sir. There's someone wishing to see you.”
“Why didn't the guards contact me?”
“They didn't want to bother you, so they asked me instead.”
“So, my guards are a bunch of cowards that don't want to bother me? They would rather send a woman to do it, huh? Have I become that unbearable?”
“Of course not, sir. We're all worried about Mia. I meanSignoraMonticelli.
“Who is it that wants to see me?”
“Isabella Salvatore.”
“I don't know anyone by that name.”
“She says that she has some information that may be helpful to you.”
“Send her in.” I held my breath as Lucia escorted a pretty young woman into the parlor. While it was clear that she was beautiful, there was a certain weariness that aged her.
“You are Isabella, I presume.” I said as she came closer, and I motioned for her to sit. “I'm told that you have some information for me but first, who are you?”
“I believe you know my husband, Gianni Salvatore.”
“Gianni? He works for Romano,” I said coolly.
“Gianni told me that he helped you when your girl was taken by Andrea Romano.”
“Yes he helped me—for a price, of course. But why are you here now?”
“Gianni told me that he was going on a special assignment with Andrea and that he wouldn't be back for several months. Once I heard news of Mia Monticelli’s disappearance, I knew that the two had to be connected.”
“And why should I believe you? Why should I think that you are any different than any other person who is acquainted with Romano? Why would I believe a word out of your mouth?”
“I believe that Gianni is dead,” she blurted out.
“Dead? Why do you think that?”
“Because Gianni was paranoid. We had specific check-in times that he would text me, no matter what, with certain key phrases so that I knew that everything was all right. He’s missed the last two check-ins.”
“And you think that that's enough to risk coming to see me? You think that he's dead just because he didn't check in with you twice?”
“He has never missed one in the ten years that we have been together—not one.”
“And why come to me?” I found myself growing increasingly irritated with her. I had my own problems that I needed to deal with.
“Gianni told me that you are an honorable man—more honorable than him or any of the Romanos. He told me that he had helped you once and that if anything were to happen to him that I was to come to you and request safety and protection.”
“Gianni didn't do me any favors. He did a job, and I paid him for it. I don't owe him or you anything.”
“I know, but Gianni said that you were an honorable man and that you would do right and help anyway.”
“Why should I trust anything that you're saying?”
“When a man in your organization dies, what happens to his widow? To his children?”
I looked at her curiously, wondering where she was going with her line of questioning.
