Chapter 57: Chapter 57

JFK International Airport

◇  KEL ◇

"Exams over?"

"Yeah. For now." I glanced at the guy sitting next to me and put my seatbelt on, knowing Enzo prioritized safety now after what happened to him back in Umbria.

The car locks clicked. The tinted windows hid us from the outside world as his chauffeur drove out of the university's parking area.

"We'll be back in four days, maybe three," Enzo said while hiking his sleeves up to his elbows. His black jeans and plain sweater looked quite underwhelming compared to the Italian three-piece suits he donned on a regular basis. He seemed much more approachable with this casual getup, though.  "If things go smoothly."

If things go smoothly?

Did that mean there was a good chance this offhand trip to Serbia wouldn't end in our expected turnout?  I would be risking my life for this trip. Well, in a sense. I hadn't even told my mom or Jill about this trip Enzo had promised.

We'd be flying to another continent in his brother's private jet. My plan to meet up with a guy named "Andrej Dudek" in Belgrade, Serbia just couldn't wait another day. Hopefully, Andrej could give me the answers I had been waiting for.

"You worried?" Enzo put his seatbelt on and told the driver to step on it.

"I was." I hugged my backpack full of medical notes and some clothes and noticed he sounded quite impatient when he told the driver to speed up.

Honestly, I was very much relieved that he figured out a way to meet up with the guy in Serbia who claimed to be a former employee of Ilija.  I'd waited for weeks for the right opportunity.  Luckily, I had a few days of rest this week. I had finished my exams and training requirements earlier than expected.

"We'll get there sooner than you think."

"Thanks for this. Really." I budged to glance at Enzo and gave him a smile of gratitude. If he hadn't shown up, by now I'd be swallowed whole by my anxiety after what I learned from Andrej, the guy who said he had been working for a certain Ilija Mihajlović for a while now. 61 years old now. Alive and breathing, according to Andrej.

I wasn't even sure if it was the same Ilija in those birth records Niccolo emailed me...but I had to try my luck. I just had to see the man in person. Or at least have a remote idea of what his life was like.

"Sure." Enzo grinned and tucked a clump of my hair behind my ear. His smile deepened the dimples his well-groomed beard partly covered. "Anything to make you feel better."

"I need to call the guy again." And Miles, too.  Granted, he'd be pissed if he found out I just flew out of the country without my mom or my sister knowing, and with Enzo Tomassini—the guy he made me swear I would avoid at all costs.

"Later." Enzo clasped my hand to stop me from taking my phone out of my bag. He gave my forearm a light squeeze, then sat closer as we reclined in the backseat of his convertible.  "Just rest. We'll have dinner in the airport."

◇

"So how's your last training?"

I glanced at the guy who just sat beside me.

Out of all the vacant seats on his brother's private jet, Lorenzio chose to sit next to me again. Just like in his car, and during our quick dinner. It was a simple dinner in a small café in the airport, but not once did I hear him complain.

His question piqued my attention, too. It distracted my anxious thoughts for a bit. To my understanding, he was genuinely interested in striking a conversation about my day-to-day life. He even kept staring while waiting for my reply.

"Refreshed our hands-on skills better than I expected,"  I replied while buckling up.

One male attendant comprised the cabin crew, along with the Italian pilot and co-pilot I'd just met. In terms of security, Enzo had taken three bodyguards on this trip.

"Good," he muttered with a small grin. "You're better adjusted to the schoolwork now."

Although his comment soothed my recent worries about my average (and sometimes barely passing) academic performance, I couldn't help but recall how much I owed him. Just the other week, he'd given me money again for tuition fee, training fee, and miscellaneous school expenses.

Now I owed him almost 100,000 dollars, a portion of it I'd already used to pay off my dad's hospital bills—rest his soul. Of course I told Enzo I would pay him back, but he didn't mention a deadline. Not even payment terms.

Enzo pretty much shoved another signed check into my bag the last time he was in New York, that day I had to introduce him to my mom. It was a secret deal I agreed to just so he wouldn't tell my family how we actually met.

"Enzo."

"Bellezza."

"I know I keep saying this, but...I'll pay you back.  Promise."  I waited for an affirmative response but he was now busy on his phone. "Once I get a steady job."

Enzo scoffed and kept scanning the contents of his email inbox.  "Just graduate. Worry about money later."

"Seriously, how much do I owe you for...this one?"

"Huh?" Enzo put his phone away to regard me.

The jet had already taken off. The tall flight attendant now served us drinks. "Coffee or tea, Miss?"

"Just water, please. Thank you." I smiled at the guy who just handed Enzo a half-full glass of wine. I tried not to react.

Apparently, Enzo liked red wine—preferably brands with more than 10% alcohol content.  "Just clears up my head," was his excuse when he caught me staring at his wine glass.

"Sure," I said while trying to seem nonchalant about it. Somehow it reminded me of Miles and his noticeable dependence on alcohol whenever he was stressed out and finishing an art collection.

But that was no longer the case. Miles wasn't a full-time artist anymore. He worked the corporate scene now—which didn't quite add up because he had no relevant experience.  Nor was he a business school graduate.

With his new job, he had moved on to hard drugs, too. Miles said it was only for pain management.  I wanted to believe him, but I knew better.

"You were saying?" Enzo asked after taking a long sip of his wine.

"For this trip. How much do I owe you now?"

"I dunno." Enzo gave me a weak shrug and a crooked smile. "Cook for me for a week? Shop groceries for my pantry..."

"Okay." I glanced away. His dimpled grin and joke almost made me laugh.  Wait.  Was it just a joke?

"Okay?" He chuckled.

"Yeah. Next time you'll be in New York for a while."

"But I still pick the beverages." He tilted his glass as if we were doing a toast.

"Duly noted." I stopped holding back my laugh when he kept up a lopsided grin. I really tried not to giggle but he kept up the cheeky look on his face.

"Dieci punti per me." Enzo faced front and sipped more wine.

"I'm sorry?"  Ten points for him?  Why?

"Finally made you smile today."

"Oh." I quit snickering and sat back just to avoid his striking pale blue eyes.

"You're more beautiful when you laugh like that."

I pressed my lips together to hold in another giggle. Should I say thanks?

Was he drunk already?  He didn't smell drunk.  His familiar perfume actually overpowered my cologne now that we sat close to each other.

"Sorry if...I barely talked to you during dinner."

"Nah. I get it." Enzo winked at me and finished his wine. "I have anxiety attacks, too."

"Really?"

"Happens to almost everyone. I'm sure you're aware. Fairly normal for me these days."  He faked a smile.  "Not often but...always worse than I expect."

"Preaching to the choir, man." I bumped fists with him when he put his clenched hand near my cheek.

There was a lengthy but comfortable silence between us until he spoke again. "When you left New York to move to Italy, you and Maxim hadn't met yet.  Right?"

"No. I didn't have close friends in Italy that time. Just acquaintances. I've known Paul for over a year that time, though."

"His friend?"

I nodded.

"So you had common friends, you met in Milan, then Maxim asked you to be his roommate? Mi—   Sorry. I'm not used to calling him Miles yet."

"Uh...yeah."  Great. Now we were delving into more anxiety-inducing topics for the rest of the flight. But he was probably just bored and curious, so I shouldn't be curt. Maybe he just fancied a chat about how Miles and I became close?  "I mean, we never dated, like I said."

"Hey. I'm not judging, or anything." Enzo pulled a face. "Just want to understand the whole picture."

"It wasn't..." I paused to frown. "Honestly, I just thought he was so nice and comfortable to be around. Paul, his best friend, introduced us at a party.  Miles was...quite interesting.  He approached me. Then we had a chat about why I moved to Italy. Told me he and his mother lived here before.  We hung out again after the party, and..."

"Got it."

Did he really?

"He's real lucky to have met you." Enzo gave me a few nods and fell silent. "For a friend, you're loyal to a fault."

"He was my only guy friend, besides Paul," I mumbled. "I was struggling with finding jobs and applying for scholarships then, 'cause I was thinking...if I couldn't find good modeling work soon, I'll just go back to med school. And for months, Miles was just there, helping any way he can."

"You already moved in with him that time."

"He let me stay in his house.  Didn't want me to worry about rent."

Although I didn't receive a scholarship grant while I was living with Miles, I'd never forget how getting to know him had changed my life. For better or for worse, he was the type of person I wanted to be my friend till I grew old.

My chest kinda ached at the thought. Now I couldn't help but think what happened to our friendship was my fault. If I hadn't left Italy, we probably wouldn't be having any issues at this point.  I'd still be working there and saving up for tuition, and Miles and I would still be living under the same roof, talking about life and the stresses of adulthood, hanging out whenever we could.

"Sorry it didn't work out." Enzo put his arm around my back and stroked my hair.  "On the bright side, we might get to meet your real dad tomorrow."

"Thanks." I put on a pleasant reaction as I felt like tears were about to fill my eyes. No way would I let him see me cry;  he might think I was being overdramatic about Miles drifting away and this desperate search to locate my biological father in a foreign country.  "Thank you.  You really didn't have to do all this."

"Sure. But, be honest." Enzo squinted at me. "You asked me, instead of Maxim, because, he doesn't want you to look for your dad?"

"He doesn't even know I've been contacting Serbian police," I muttered in response.  "But he didn't tell me I shouldn't. Just told me, I should focus on school for now. Not travel to a foreign place to start hunting down strangers."

"Right."  Enzo scratched his stubbled chin and tsk-ed.  "He might pitch a fit if he finds out."

"Please don't tell him anything, if you run into him in Milan or...Florence."

Miles might've already heard about me meeting up with Lorenzio again, possibly through the guards he'd hired to keep an eye on me.  Surprisingly, the bodyguards didn't interfere or try to stop me from leaving the country with Enzo. They tailed me across New York in a black SUV the entire week, but they had mostly been pretty discreet and distant.

"Sure." Enzo looked away but kept touching my hair. His left hand was busy on his phone again, texting and skimming through his inbox.

I looked out the small window. Thick grayish clouds obscured American waters. In a matter of hours,  Enzo and I would be in Belgrade, Serbia to meet up with someone who could help us locate Ilija. A police informant of Enzo's family assured him that the authorities in Belgrade had means to help me find the person I wanted to meet.

How we would easily convince them to give all the information I needed, I had not a single clue. But at least I'd be able to give it a try. Look for him myself.

My height, physique, his full name and his old signature on my really old, original birth certificate was all I had with me to present as proof that I was his biological daughter. I didn't even have a single photo of him, but, Enzo's contact promised us he could provide some assistance to trace Ilija's whereabouts and current residence. Or past?

"Can't really blame him, though." Enzo grinned slightly. "A heartbroken guy is capable of anything."

"He's not..." Miles? Heartbroken?  I wanted to frown and laugh at the idea.  "It's not like that," I murmured. "He's just...irrationally overprotective sometimes."

"Because he cares too much." Enzo shrugged.  "Why else would he hire bodyguards for you?"

"He's just paranoid."

"Exactly. Paranoid and heartbroken."

"Whatever." I masked my annoyance with a forced smile. Better seem emotionally unavailable than admit my real feelings for Miles.

His hot-and-cold behavior was just driving me off the rails. I still couldn't comprehend why he just left without any proper explanations.

After I let him meet my entire family and spend a night at my parents' house, he just left America and never called me again. It wasn't like I was being clingy because we kissed and...almost had sex.

Some explanations and an honest reason—that's all I wanted from him. But he just didn't seem to care. What exactly did he take me for?

"How many times have you fallen in love?"

"Too many." Enzo laughed shortly and glanced at me. "You?"

"If I only knew it would drive me this insane, I would've sworn off men a long time ago."

Enzo laughed again. "You talk like you're pushing 40."

Well, if being in love meant risking my sanity, no peace of mind, and lacking control of my own thoughts and emotions, I'd gladly choose apathy right now.

"People will come and go, bellezza. Just how it is. Up to you to choose which ones get to stay in your life."

"I know. Sorry." I covered my face to smother a loud sigh. "It's just that...my life used to be so simple, y'know? School. Job. Some family issues here and there. School. Job."

"At least your family cares about you." Enzo put on a smile.

But I caught the hints of envy and ruefulness in his tone. What did he exactly mean by his comment?    "Wanna elaborate on that?"

"Not really."

Alright. Fine. He wasn't comfortable sharing about his private life. Okay. I understood his reticence. We weren't close friends.  I was an outsider. Basically a stranger. Just someone he thought he owed favors to.

"Bellezza..."

"Hmm?"

"Get some rest." Enzo sighed out loud and frowned. "And stop blaming yourself."

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