bottles looked unopened, as if each one had been purchased recently just for this trip.
Within seconds Adriano poured them a dry martini, motioning for them to sit in one of the softly cushioned chairs.
“Here you go, gentlemen,” he offered, handing Carlos and Philippe their drinks before loosening his tie and removing his black suit jacket.
“The Lord has been telling me fine things about you both. He tells me you’re two of his best men. The Lord doesn’t normally regard anyone so highly, so it seems I’m sitting in esteemed company.” Carlos detected a hint of mockery in Adriano’s tone as he let the words sink in. On one hand it was nice to be valued by his employer but on the other hand, knowing who his employer was drove home the stark reality that the only one to ever have praised him thus far, besides Kate, was not his own father but the most powerful and deadly leader of The Organization. He washed the regret away with a swig of martini, gritting his teeth as it burned on the way down.
“In fact,” added Adriano, “he values your dedication so much that on our return voyage we’re doing a little detour.” He glared straight at Carlos. “Philippe will sadly be departing our company at Monaco, so it will be just you and I, Carlos.”
“What sort of detour? I don’t know anything about a detour. Stavros didn’t mention this yesterday. What is this about?” Carlos asked, intrigued.
Adriano replied after swallowing his martini, “The Lord has a little job for you to do on our way home.”
“Job?” Carlos twisted in his seat so he faced Adriano.
“You’ll find out all the details tomorrow. The Lord has hand-picked you for this assignment so you should feel quite privileged, Carlos. Now if you gentlemen don’t mind, I’ve got important business to take care of. Relax. Make yourselves at home and enjoy the ride.” Adriano skulled the rest of his martini, picked up his suit jacket, and bid them all a temporary farewell with a two-fingered salute from his temple. Carlos sat with a ‘what the fuck?’ look on his face.
Chapter Eight
When Kate stirred hours later she found herself curled, semi-naked, on top of her bed in the fetal position, shivering. For a brief second the familiar surroundings seemed foreign as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Stunned, it became apparent she was home.
Scanning the room, she tried to piece together why she was naked apart from her bra and panties and how she got back to her villa from the festival. Her memory was hazy.
“Carlos?” The name echoed off the walls.
Remembering he was out of town, that explanation didn’t bear any weight. The silence was deafening.
Amongst the blackness, snatches of memory seeped through. Walking past Mr. Matioli’s café. The beautiful vase she’d been admiring. Running.
“What else? What else? Think, Kate! Think! Ugh.”
It was futile. Nothing. The fog was too thick. Something was very wrong, though. The clock in the bedroom read 5.07 p.m.
“What? Where have I been for most of the day? How did I get back to my apartment? Why can’t I remember?”
Afraid that she may have been knocked over the head, assaulted, and robbed, she rose like a zombie and walked to the wardrobe to inspect the damage. Carefully opening it, half expecting to see it stripped bare, she breathed a sigh of relief when all her clothing and accessories sat as they had earlier in the morning when she’d rummaged through looking for a dress to wear to the festival.
Still, something was off. Nothing felt right. Memories and time were lost. She was semi-naked! What was with that? Where were her clothes and handbag from that morning?
An icy numbness cut through the warm air, invoking a myriad of shivers on her skin.
“It shouldn’t be this cold all of a sudden. I’m freezing.” She wandered through the apartment looking for a window that may have been left open but everything was locked solid
Within seconds Adriano poured them a dry martini, motioning for them to sit in one of the softly cushioned chairs.
“Here you go, gentlemen,” he offered, handing Carlos and Philippe their drinks before loosening his tie and removing his black suit jacket.
“The Lord has been telling me fine things about you both. He tells me you’re two of his best men. The Lord doesn’t normally regard anyone so highly, so it seems I’m sitting in esteemed company.” Carlos detected a hint of mockery in Adriano’s tone as he let the words sink in. On one hand it was nice to be valued by his employer but on the other hand, knowing who his employer was drove home the stark reality that the only one to ever have praised him thus far, besides Kate, was not his own father but the most powerful and deadly leader of The Organization. He washed the regret away with a swig of martini, gritting his teeth as it burned on the way down.
“In fact,” added Adriano, “he values your dedication so much that on our return voyage we’re doing a little detour.” He glared straight at Carlos. “Philippe will sadly be departing our company at Monaco, so it will be just you and I, Carlos.”
“What sort of detour? I don’t know anything about a detour. Stavros didn’t mention this yesterday. What is this about?” Carlos asked, intrigued.
Adriano replied after swallowing his martini, “The Lord has a little job for you to do on our way home.”
“Job?” Carlos twisted in his seat so he faced Adriano.
“You’ll find out all the details tomorrow. The Lord has hand-picked you for this assignment so you should feel quite privileged, Carlos. Now if you gentlemen don’t mind, I’ve got important business to take care of. Relax. Make yourselves at home and enjoy the ride.” Adriano skulled the rest of his martini, picked up his suit jacket, and bid them all a temporary farewell with a two-fingered salute from his temple. Carlos sat with a ‘what the fuck?’ look on his face.
Chapter Eight
When Kate stirred hours later she found herself curled, semi-naked, on top of her bed in the fetal position, shivering. For a brief second the familiar surroundings seemed foreign as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes. Stunned, it became apparent she was home.
Scanning the room, she tried to piece together why she was naked apart from her bra and panties and how she got back to her villa from the festival. Her memory was hazy.
“Carlos?” The name echoed off the walls.
Remembering he was out of town, that explanation didn’t bear any weight. The silence was deafening.
Amongst the blackness, snatches of memory seeped through. Walking past Mr. Matioli’s café. The beautiful vase she’d been admiring. Running.
“What else? What else? Think, Kate! Think! Ugh.”
It was futile. Nothing. The fog was too thick. Something was very wrong, though. The clock in the bedroom read 5.07 p.m.
“What? Where have I been for most of the day? How did I get back to my apartment? Why can’t I remember?”
Afraid that she may have been knocked over the head, assaulted, and robbed, she rose like a zombie and walked to the wardrobe to inspect the damage. Carefully opening it, half expecting to see it stripped bare, she breathed a sigh of relief when all her clothing and accessories sat as they had earlier in the morning when she’d rummaged through looking for a dress to wear to the festival.
Still, something was off. Nothing felt right. Memories and time were lost. She was semi-naked! What was with that? Where were her clothes and handbag from that morning?
An icy numbness cut through the warm air, invoking a myriad of shivers on her skin.
“It shouldn’t be this cold all of a sudden. I’m freezing.” She wandered through the apartment looking for a window that may have been left open but everything was locked solid
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