Chapter 70: Chapter 70

ANGELIC...

One week.

Two weeks.

Three weeks.

Three weeks since I last saw LeBlanc. Zero messages. Zero links. Zero contact. And it's not like I expected him to call me the next day, I'm not stupid. However, I didn't expect it to disappear either.

I don't miss him, not even up close. But sometimes I wonder what made it disappear right after what happened at the warehouse. I can't understand, and he's not here to explain it to me.

- Angelica? Angelic? - Margot is calling.

I watch her from across the breakfast table. One of his eyebrows is arched, so I know I missed a lot of speeches.

- Yes - I answer.

- The first article on the elections is out. Lily.

The tablet is open to a news page on the table. There's no way I can read it. I haven't been interested in Elliot's politics for a few weeks now. It's funny because three months ago, all I cared about was the image of the family.

- Clear.

I take a sip of my coffee, to make it seem like my mind is focused on the moment. The coffee is cold, but I drink it anyway.

- Elliot is above average in the polls - Margot scores by sliding her finger on the screen - We owe it to Antony.

Antony Louzada, the family lawyer.

- Because?

- He works day and night for us. It's admirable that he didn't abandon the family after our financial crisis.

"He really worked hard," I chuckle.

Unsurprisingly, Louzada's only job is to warm Margot's bed when Elliot leaves. It's none of my business, and if Elliot doesn't care, I don't care. At least Margot still manages to have fun at rock bottom.

She raises an eyebrow at me, however, won't ask me. The case is no secret, but it's not news either. Margot is about to say something when we hear footsteps coming down the stairs.

- Hello - Elliot greets. We both watch it. Suit and tie lined up, shiny shoes and leather briefcase - unfortunately I won't have time for coffee.

Elliot walks over, kisses the top of Margot's head, and waves at me. I nod in response. I can't remember the last time he deigned to give me more than a nod.

- I'm going to the press conference. Wish me good luck.

"It's not necessary," Margot said, staring at the tablet screen. She doesn't care, but she knows how to pretend. If we can get out of this financial crisis, it will be great for her, because she can increase her collection of handbags. But if we can't, she'll just move on. A beautiful and intelligent woman rarely fails in life.

- Angelique, be ready at seven o'clock. We will have dinner with the general secretary - said Elliot.

I almost roll my eyes. The elections are only a few weeks away. This means that Elliot is desperate to stay ahead of its competitors. But given our situation, especially after the disappearance of "Bruce Campbell", this should be your last concern.

"The senator is in the hospital and you're worried about your campaign," I say loudly.

Margot looks up from her cell phone at me, mentally scolding me. Of course, all that matters is us, not the senator. I'm not looking at Elliot, but I know the same disgusted expression is on his face. Disgust because he considers it a waste to think of anything other than his candidacy.

- The senator... - Elliot starts, but reconsiders. I keep looking him in the eyes, waiting for what comes out of his mouth. No atrocity can surprise me - One day you'll find that everything I do is for the good of the Donneli family name - that's all Elliot says - Be ready at seven - repeat.

He walks towards the exit, with his private security hot on his heels. More words. I even wonder how the employees are paid. We're one step away from declaring bankruptcy, and if Elliot doesn't win the election, then the fund is our best bet. How can he be so optimistic?

“Angelique, my darling,” whispers Margot. She stops to take a sip of coffee - You have a pretty face and an attractive body. Looks like me at your age.

I close my eyes. Where does she want to go?

- But let's be honest, your qualities stop there - she continues - You're not smart, you don't have a decent job, you haven't finished your studies and you still depend on dad. What are you but cute?

Wow.

I have to bite my tongue not to respond in a way that would destroy our family project. I'm nothing but cute, and she is?

- Margot... - I whisper, but she cuts me off.

- What would a man have with you? What would Vicenzo have with you? Sex and a few pictures in the tabloids at most - his voice is calm and velvety, as if he's not insulting me - What I mean is that women like you are used to warm the bed of men like him. So, if by some miracle Vicenzo Mares is interested in you, seize the opportunity.

I continue to stare intently at Margot, choosing my next words. Is that what she did to Elliot? Did you take the chance? Is that what she does with Antony?

"I don't need to take advantage of her feelings," I said through gritted teeth.

I would rather die in poverty than accept Vicenzo as my husband just to keep having money. It is common knowledge that the wife of Senator Mares faces the worst humiliations in the world, just to maintain her social status. I wouldn't join this family even with a death oath.

- Believe me, you better use your average charm to ensure a good life now, because this ceiling - she points a finger - is about to fall.

Margot stares at me for a second, hoping I have something sharp on the tip of my tongue. Is our roof about to collapse? So why is Elliot working so hard to pull us out of the doldrums?

She is up before I can ask, carrying a bag that would pay the monthly salaries of ten employees.

I lean back against the chair. I swear I'd like to ignore what Margot says, because her advice would probably lead me to become her equal, or worse. Yet, like magic, something in his words rings true. Am I just a pretty face? Is Vicenzo the only one who sees something attractive enough in me to want to marry me?

I look at the ceiling. We are further than Elliot is willing to admit. He desperately needs support, from anyone. Meanwhile, Margot averages with the family's attorney, so she'll have a second option when the Donneli family crumbles.

So yeah, I should probably worry about a second option as well.

I definitely hate hospitals. It's the worst place a human being can go, next to the cemetery. I didn't hate hospitals until I saw my mother sick, admitted occasionally, then dead. I didn't hate cemeteries either, but I started hating them after the burial.

I walk down the long hallway to the last door. It is empty and the ceiling lights are failing, creating an uncomfortable atmosphere. It's still daylight, but the lack of windows makes it seem like there's no sun outside.

The only people in the hallway are the two security guards outside the senator's bedroom door. It is not yet public knowledge that he is hospitalized, but he will be soon.

Arriving at door number 1208, I wave to the security guards before knocking. Before coming, I needed to call Vicenzo and make sure it was a good idea to visit him. Since this accident happened at Donneli Mansion, I don't know if our families are still together.

I hear footsteps on the other side, then the door opens.

- Hi - Vicenzo salutes. He wears a navy blue suit, his hair is slicked back and he is clean shaven. He looks presentable, but the dark circles under his eyes betray his fatigue.

- Hey. I hope it's not a bad time.

- I'm glad you're here - he makes room for me to come in - Come in, please.

- Thanks.

I enter the room where Senator Mares is. There are two more security guards inside, one on each side of the bed. I look down at my jeans and cardigan, not sure I have the right outfit.

The mares are paler and thinner. His beard is apparent on his colorless face.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

The Senator is not the best man in the world, but to see him in this bed, inert, breathing through a machine… I didn't expect to see another acquaintance in this situation. Suddenly I'm twelve again and the person in the bed is my mother. She was barely breathing, but she smiled every time I walked in. I knew she was dying, but I wanted to believe she wasn't. I needed to believe.

- Don't feel. Those responsible will pay.

I look back. Vicenzo faces his father, but his mind is far from here. I've been in this position before, and if I could hurt someone to lessen my pain, I would. The difference is that the villain in my story was a disease, not a person.

- Of course - I approach him - Justice will be served. But now, the important thing is the health of the senator.

Vicenzo looks at me. We've known each other forever, and he was a harmless boy, too nice to look like his father. However, seeing the anger in his eyes, I don't know anymore. Something changed, and I still don't know what.

- Justice is not enough.

- And what are you thinking? - I ask.

He looks at the bed again. I know the answer. Vicenzo wants the person responsible for this to meet the same goal as the senator.

- Can we get out of here for a second? - question. I nod my head in agreement.

We left the room. Meanwhile, I can't help but feel guilty and dirty for being here. Why did I come? To comfort Vicenzo or follow Margot's advice? To stabilize the relationship between our families or obtain sponsorship?

As we leave, he places a hand on the base of my spine and leads us to the end of the hallway, away from the eyes of the security guards. Vicenzo opens a door and, when we enter, he closes it. The environment is an empty waiting room. In fact, the entire floor has been cleared for the senator's stay. This will all be hell when the media gets wind of what happened, so it's good that they're on their toes now. There are two parallel leather couches, a small table with drinks in the corner, and a TV tuned to the sports channel.

- This situation is killing us - he walks towards the glasses - The elections are approaching, people are starting to miss the Senator...

Vicenzo pours two glasses of whisky. I don't usually drink, but I don't want to interrupt him. I didn't mean to listen to a speech, but I'm polite enough to pay attention.

- You know how this world is. If you disappear from politics for more than a week, they put another in your place - he whispers.

He approaches and hands me the half-glass of drink. Accepted. I sit on the sofa and Vicenzo imitates my number.

I rub a sweaty hand on my jeans. I shouldn't have come. Afterwards, it seems that I was a traitor and that I took advantage of your vulnerability to discover the weakness of the Seas.

- I don't want to be insensitive. I'd like to stay here and take care of my dad, but...

- You have other tasks - complete.

- Yes - Vicenzo drinks the whiskey - I have to take care of the family, the businesses, the candidacy. I can't even ask for help, because I don't know who would know that the senator is in this situation.

I place a hand on his knee to comfort him. Right now, I'm sure I could never be like Margot. Ignoring someone else's problems to solve my own? Put my futility above a feeling? No, I'm not like that. Now I wonder how cold-blooded he is to be able to use people as if they were nothing.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

He smiles, and for a second he looks like that little boy I once knew. Sweet and innocent Vicenzo.

What has adult life done to us?

We have a good quiet time. We face each other with nothing but compassion and affection.

- I'm sorry for what I said on that call. I am not your landlord.

- You are forgiven - I smile.

- I was just... - his voice drops - I was jealous. You've always been so well looked after by everyone, and when Campbell arrived I was afraid he wouldn't take care of you.

- You were more concerned with politics than me - I accuse.

- No - he said at the same second - I used politics as an excuse, but the truth is that... - Vicenzo takes the glass from my hand and puts it on the coffee table, along with his - The truth is that we were always close. I always knew where you were, who you were with and if you were okay - he smiles aside - Suddenly the idea of not knowing for your well-being made me feel uneasy.

- So - I'm looking at my knees - Were you jealous? - To tease.

It's funny, and he's almost right. I was always controlled by everyone around me, so my life became an open book.

- Yeah. But not in the possessive sense of the word - Vicenzo lifts my chin - I just didn't want you to get involved with the wrong person.

We are closer than at any other time. His face inches from mine. I wet my lips, anxious, agitated, uncertain.

- How did you know Campbell was the wrong person? - whisper. My heart is beating faster and faster.

- He's not here now, is he?

As Vicenzo enters my personal space, his scent grows stronger. It smells good, but... it's not the smell I want. It has a hint of clove, but it's not oaky enough.

I place my hands on his chest, but don't push him away. I know his face is getting closer and closer to mine, and yet I stay still. Suddenly, he's too close and his lips touch mine. I close my eyes before processing the moment. He kissed me! He kisses me!

His hands frame my face and mine rest on his chest, with no indication that they'll push him away. My head throbs that it's wrong, but curiosity gets the better of me. I want to feel again what I felt in that warehouse, whoever it is. I want to feel weak legs and warm skin, sweaty palms and a light mind. I want to feel his powerful body pressed against mine, and I want him to turn me on. I want someone other than LeBlanc to turn me on.

I wait and... nothing.

I sigh, knowing what I want to feel but not knowing if I want to feel it with Vicenzo. Anyway, I'm just giving you freedom. However, when I feel his tongue slide over mine, I freeze. It tastes like whiskey, and it's not necessarily bad, but… I didn't know I wanted to taste mint so badly until now.

Damn LeBlanc.

It's not supposed to be like this, so strange and cold. The last time someone was this close to me, my body almost burned with heat and I couldn't wait to feel more and more. I didn't want to accept that I was spoiled for other keys, however, it turns out that I am. It entered my mind so deeply that it made everyone else look like scratches.

I kiss one man and think of another. My head almost forces me to pretend it's LeBlanc's tongue sliding into my mouth. I never really kissed him, however, that night his lips hovered over mine, and his breath made me fully aware of their taste. Now, sadly, I can't help but think what their kiss would be like. Would your hands still be on my face? Would your mouth be slow and soft?

It's wrong.

It's not enough.

I walk away quickly, firming my hands on Vicenzo's chest so he doesn't come closer. I stare at his confused face, not knowing what to say to make it look less bad. I allowed this, why did I stop? Why didn't I stop him sooner? Why did I force myself to believe it was another man, another language, other hands?

- Everything is fine? - question.

- I - I stammer - I don't think this is the place for this - I'm lying.

No matter where, under what circumstances, I would never kiss Vicenzo with desire. I would never feel warm next to him. Not because of him, but because of LeBlanc, who made everything else look small, and now I have one more reason to hate him.

- Of course - Vicenzo shakes his head - You're right. I am sorry.

- No problem. Can we go back? - before I do another stupid thing.

- Yes of course.

THE WHITE...

Coming back was not in my plans, even remotely. But she was in my dreams, up close. I wonder what she does to get my attention. What no other woman had, did or didn't do?

I spent the first day. I dreamed of her, but it didn't matter. This is called physical attraction. On the second day, my body still remembered her skin and warmth. I forbade myself to think about her in the shower, because I'm not a teenager. Well, at least it wasn't, because on the sixth day I surrendered. I had to surrender.

My only company for the first three weeks was an old man with a dubious temper and a large empty house. No sarcastic chatter and blonde hair. So after exactly 45 days I got it. The challenge interests me more than the conquest. I don't want Angelic, I want to win the little attraction game she started on day one.

She was in that damn White House ballroom, with security hot on her heels. I knew who she was the moment her eyes landed on me. My target. She was scanning this room, desperate not to get bored, and then she saw me. His eyes fell on me, then his feet. Sometimes I still wonder what she would say if she had caught up with me. Perhaps the most sarcastic thing of all? The most intelligent? Most polite?

I look across the street. 45 days. 45 days ago I was in this town doing one of the most expensive jobs of my entire career. Now I'm in the same town, still interested in my target, but far from wanting to finish the job. This crazy family is gonna end up self-destructing at some point, they don't need me.

After two hours spent looking at the café across the street, I finally get out of the car. I walk nonchalantly towards the establishment and, on the way, I pass a woman with a child in her arms. She came running towards me and didn't see me, as she tried to find something in her bag while swinging the little girl of about two years old in her arms.

"I'm sorry," she says, and walks back down the sidewalk before getting an answer. Late.

Oh yes. That's why I didn't want to go back.

The woman continues to run in a straight line and the child looks over the shoulder of what I assume is her mother. The little human stares at me, in that understated way children do, then he smiles.

You see, people are born innocent. This child could never have imagined that the man her mother passed on the street would shoot people for money. And even if she could imagine it, she would hardly know what it means. And even when they become adults, people have no idea of the gravity of the world around them. They never know when there's a psychopath sitting next to them in the cafe, or a murderer walking freely down the sidewalk.

I take off my overcoat before entering Angelic Donneli's favorite café. It was cold in Europe, but not so cold in America. I grab a newspaper from the entrance and approach the counter. The interior of the cafe is simple, more than I expected for the place that serves the president's daughter's favorite drink.

- Hello. How can I help you? - asks the attendant smiling. Working with the public sometimes means smiling at nine o'clock on a Tuesday morning.

- Hello. I want a coffee with almond milk, whipped cream and essence of mint.

Angelique's favorite.

- It will be ready in five minutes. Nothing else?

- No thanks.

I move away from the counter so that the other people who arrive can order. In the meantime, I open the newspaper. It's quirky that they keep this stuff here, because the internet makes all the information available in a much more convenient way. However, I like the porous texture of the newspaper. I spend a lot of time with an old man, so even if I don't want to, I go back to his ways. Reading the newspaper is one of them.

I read the first short story, which must be from last week. This is Senator Mares' death note. After several days of hospitalization, the senator died last Friday. The cause of death has not yet been revealed, but I know it. I was there.

I finish reading the article, and the next one concerns the auction of a Ferrari. This is what we are in the world. An insignificant page before an auction page.

I skim over the other news, but I can't ignore the light that lights up in my mind. Now the game has changed, right? Elliot thought Mares was interfering with his business, so he faked the attack to end it. Now I feel my mind spinning around it. Who will be your next target?

For the first time in over a month, I feel something. I flew for hours to feel some thrill, and I knew I would find it here, I just hadn't thought how fast it would be.

Adrenaline.

- Excuse me - I say to the girl behind the counter - Two coffees, please.