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“Oh, no you don’t.” Valentino swings me over his shoulder.
“Let me down! I need to shower. Tácito!” I reach out to him, but he can’t hear me. “Valentino…”
“Your whining won’t work.” He stops in the bedroom long enough to retrieve a robe.
“You know I’m not defenseless in this position. I can have you on your ass in two seconds flat.”
“Principessa, don’t tempt me with a good time.” He lowers me to the floor of a guest bathroom. “Neither you nor Tácito have time to fuck around this morning. Neither do I, for that matter. Your stylist will be ready for you after your shower.”
“Will you have time on your schedule for me, today?” Now that we’ve returned, I have to resume my investigation.
The store clerk Ethan and I met remembered a man with the same description as the person I’m looking for. He even had surveillance tapes. Tapes, physical VHS antiquities. Thanks to his disorganization, he had to comb through the horde he kept in his storeroom. While we were away, he had a box delivered with a note explaining he thought he’d narrowed down the week, but I’d have to do the rest.
After our showdown following my last solo trip, I want to include Valentino whenever I can. Even if Ethan provides his own report.
A shadow falls over Valentino’s eyes. “Unfortunately I have some DeLuca business to attend. Seems like Giulio is cooking up another scheme to see me ruined.”
“Anything I can do?” I take his hand and squeeze, offering my unending support.
“Not quite yet. I’ll reserve your particular set of skills for another day. Don’t worry, my father hasn’t gotten the better of me yet. I’ll stay on top of him.”
I stretch to kiss his cheek, but Valentino twists his face until my lips land on his. What I meant to be an innocent goodbye, he turns into a salacious tongue duel with both of us competing to dominate the other into submission. I pull away, panting and with a lot more to learn. I can’t get angry, though. Not when Valentino walks away with a smile and my heart sings a joyful tune.
I rush through my shower to meet my stylist in the master bedroom. With no sign of Tácito, I assume our sleeping arrangement remains a secret. Although Valentino has his entire staff sign NDAs, I still feel cautious around the bubbly woman with the amazing makeup and hair who introduces herself as Elena.
After a two-hour session under the brush and hot irons, a sophisticated woman stares back at me through the mirror. Elena does more to improve me with an elegant pant suit.
“Your new staff is waiting for you downstairs.”
Staff. Because by marrying Valentino I have duties befitting a First Lady. A job requiring me to manage people. As in more than one person. In addition to a chief of staff, I now have two deputy chiefs of staff, a deputy communications director, press secretary and a speechwriter. Overnight I’ve become a boss, and I’m not sure how to feel about it.
As I go downstairs to meet everyone, I pass the library where the tapes I have to review are. How demanding the people working for me will be is still undetermined, but I can’t let the lingering threat hang over my head for too long. Not when I may have to join forces with Valentino to take down his father’s next scheme.
Inside my newly designated home office, six gorgeous Black women stand upon my entry. My husband is too transparent. I’m supposed to either overlook or be so grateful as to not recognize his move to hire all women is to make sure I don’t spend too much time with men he hasn’t vetted to the extent he’s investigated Ethan. Regardless, he deserves props. Douglas is not a melting pot and he somehow found seven Black women, including my new stylist, to put me at ease as I learn my new role.
They take me through the steps and the strategy to slowly introduce me to the public, though their interpretation of slow needs a revisit. By the time we complete my first briefing, I have a calendar full of social and political events, speeches to memorize, a whole household to manage, and my own shit to do.
As I lead the women out, I decide tonight I won’t sleep until I make progress. Alone, I transfer the box to my new office and stumble into another hurdle. Valentino’s house is full of modern conveniences. There isn’t a relic in sight, and definitely not one that went out of production in 2016. Do stores even sell VCRs anymore?
I call around a few second-hand shops until I find a place with one ready for purchase. A quick trip and I return home victorious. Valentino hasn’t returned, but I don’t let his absence deter me.
Ethan joins me to watch the videos. On my laptop is the last footage Roland provided me and we compare the people on the tapes to his image. After the tenth tape, I stifle a yawn.
“Wait…rewind the tape.” Ethan marches over to the frozen image on the big screen.
“I think you’re right, he’s the same guy.”
“Do you recognize his face?”
The quality of the image, although an improvement from the one on my laptop, leaves a lot of the man’s features blurry.
As hard as I stare, I can’t recognize him. I shake my head in disappointment.
“Try to go frame by frame. Maybe we’ll get a clearer view of him or his tattoo.”
I do as Ethan suggests, or I try to. Working with a video cassette is hard. Thank God for innovation because I no longer have the patience to watch anything on this archaic technology. With defeat licking at my nape, I pause the tape. My bleary eyes can’t take anymore.
“Shit, I think you landed on the best image so far.”
