FIFTY |

Florence

the long swoosh of fire-safe doors closing and the tapping of shoes on linoleum. My head felt as though it had been buried under a pile of rubble, my eyes sensitive to open.

Light hurt, and there was lots of it.

In fact, my whole body ached like it had been put inside a tumble dryer and left there for days.

When my eyes finally adjusted, the first thing I knew was that Amber was stood in front of me, and the second was that I was crying. A lot. I didn't even know why, really, but a sense of impending doom hit me like a truck.

"Don't cry, doll," Amber cooed. She was holding a bouquet of flowers which made me frown. Why would she be bringing me flowers?

I looked around and horror struck me as I realised where I was. In hospital. In Italy. And I didn't have the faintest clue why. Panic began building in my chest, mirrored by the screaming heart-rate monitor. The last thing I remembered was dancing with Arturo at the masquerade ball, but Amber was dressed in normal clothes. How much time had passed since then?

My eyes swept the room wildly until they came to settle on the chair next to my bed. Arturo was slumped into it, still wearing the same tuxedo I remembered from that night.

"He's been here the whole time," Amber said, noticing my line of sight. "He refused to go home and change or anything. I don't even think he's eaten."

When I tried to open my mouth it was dry like sandpaper, my lips chapped and sore. "H-how long...?"

Amber took a seat on the opposite side of my bed and took my hand in hers. "Two nights," she replied. "Man, can you sleep! You gave us all a real scare. Especially Arturo."

"I don't remember." It was all I could manage to say.

Amber glanced to the opposite side of my bed anxiously. "I don't think it's my place to explain. You and Arturo have a lot of talking to do." She stood up and placed the flowers into a vase, leaving them at the foot of my bed where an assortment of gifts had been set down. "I'm going to give you some privacy. Call if you need anything."

The next time I looked over at Arturo, he was sitting up straight with his eyes open. There were dark circles beneath them and his usually-pristine shirt was creased. When our eyes met, a series of jumbled memories came flooding back to me, flashing images and names. Leila, Cecelia, engaged...

I shook my head, trying to clear it, but that only made my headache worse.

"What happened?" I croaked. I knew that Arturo and I were on thin ice, but I couldn't sort through those emotions in my head until I knew why I was here.

He reached for my hand slowly and I didn't have the energy to pull away.

"What do you remember?" Arturo asked. His voice was low and raspy with sleep.

"I..." I tried to think but I couldn't piece together the puzzle of memories inside my head. "I don't know. Why am I here?"

I saw his jaw flex, his dark eyes moving down to the floor. I wasn't going to like this.

"Be honest."

Arturo took a deep breath. "You were drugged."

"Um."

"Someone spiked your drink with rohypnol."

"Oh," I squeaked.

"He assaulted you." Arturo said this last part with anger in his voice but all I could do was nod.

"Right."

"You'd just collapsed when Amber found you, the man ran away before he could do anything more serious."

"Okay." I continued to nod, I probably looked like one of those dog ornaments people had in the back of their cars. It was as though reality wouldn't register with my brain, a total sense of calm had settled over me.

"Could you stop being so calm about this?" Arturo's voice was hard, his spare hand clenched into a fist. "Whoever did this–"

"But I'm alive," I said.

"Yes."

I frowned. "I'm not dead?"

"No, Florence, you aren't."

"That's good." I was back to nodding again.

Arturo looked concerned. "You are in shock."

"I am?"

"Judging by the fact that you haven't started screaming at me or hitting me yet, yes, I'd say so."

"Hmm. Interesting."

"Is it?" By this point he looked completely exasperated. "Florence, are you not mad at me?"

"What would I be mad at you for?" I cocked my head, genuinely confused. "Also, when can I leave? I feel fine, so there's really no need–"

"I was engaged to Cecelia."

Arturo cut me off mid sentence and I felt my jaw hanging open. With that sentence my memories began falling into place. Cecelia, Amber, Leila, so much had happened in one night.

I finally found the energy to pull my hand away from Arturo's, the numbness that had been protecting me all but gone. Tears started welling in my eyes as Arturo watched helplessly.

"I remember," I whispered.

"Perhaps I should have told you sooner, but you have to believe me that I was–"

"It isn't that."

Arturo looked confused. "Then what? Nothing happened with Leila, Amber will tell you that herself."

A tear cut its way down my cheek. "I wanted to," I told him quietly. "And I would have."

"What are you talking about?" He reached up to cup my face but I turned away. "Florence. Look at me."

"I can't."

"Tell me what is wrong."

"I believed that you had done something with Leila. You didn't tell me what happened, so I heard it from someone else. About her being sick in your bathroom, sleeping in your bed. Just like I did. And it made me angry. I was so angry I was willing to believe you would do that..." I had to pause to catch my breath, to stop my voice from breaking. "I believed that you would have slept with her, and it filled me with spite. I was so angry–"

"Florence."

"No, Arturo. You don't understand."

He threw his arms out in a wide gesture. "Then make me understand."

I took a deep breath and looked Arturo straight in the eye. "That man didn't make me go anywhere."

"What are you talking about, you were drugged. A lot, might I add."

"I flirted with him. He gave me attention and I took it, I liked it, even. I wanted to make you feel how I felt, I wanted to make you hurt."

Arturo scoffed. "And I suppose you would have slept with him, too? Some random sleaze bag you found at a bar?" His voice contained more venom this time, clearly I had succeeded at wounding him.

I turned onto my side in bed and closed my eyes. "I don't know, Arturo. I don't know."

Hours passed and the next time I woke Arturo was nowhere to be seen. Although I had done nothing to make him stay, part of me was still a little disappointed to find his chair empty, almost as if he had never been there at all.

At the opposite side of my bed, instead, was Sofia. She smiled at me when I woke, flipping an unlit cigarette between her fingers.

"You are the heaviest sleeper I have ever met," she said, taking a sip of coffee from a styrofoam cup. She caught me staring at it longingly and shook her head. "Sorry, no caffeine for you. Doctor's orders."

"Since when do you follow the rules?"

"Since my baby brother would kill me."

At the mention of Arturo I groaned, rubbing my eyes. In a day or so I would be out of here and then where would I go? Back to the Lucchese household after everything that had happened? Back to Arturo's house in New York? The last time he had kept something from me I'd sworn I would leave if he did it again.

"You know," Sofia said lightly, "Amber told me what happened."

"It's not like you didn't already know Arturo had an ex-fiancée," I pointed out.

"True," she nodded, "but it was never my secret to tell. In fact, it was never really a secret at all."

"That's why when I asked who Cecelia was he told me she was an old family friend." I rolled my eyes.

"She was an old family friend. She was never anything more, not really."

"Right. And Leila was just an extremely sexy, attractive worker who got to sleep in his bed."

Sofia put her cigarette down and placed both hands on her lap. She leaned in closer before speaking. "Florence, do you know what would have happened to Leila if Arturo hadn't gone back into the club for her?"

"What do you mean, gone back in?"

"He left before she got sick, but Renzo found him on the way out. If he hadn't given her somewhere to sleep off the effects of those drugs, she would have been left alone in a vulnerable situation. You know what happens to vulnerable women in the mafia?"

I pursued my lips. "Yes."

"And would you want to date a man who let that happen under his watch, in his bar, when he could have stopped it?"

"No."

I remembered when Arturo had carried me into his living quarters, drunk out of my mind, after I first started working for him. I had been vulnerable then, too, and he had protected me in the same way. Except he had done more than that, since then. What we had was more than just that night.

"He should have told me. He should have told me about everything."

"Yes. He should have. But if it counts for anything, I know he was going to. He had a plan."

"And Cecelia?" Her name tasted bitter in my mouth, part of me didn't dare ask.

"You'll have to talk to Arturo about that."

"Do I have to?" I whined. Facing up to my problems right now did not seem like an attractive option.

"In a day or so you'll be out of here, Florence. Whether or not you walk out with Arturo is your decision, but you need to make that decision face-to-face."

Anxiety twisted in my stomach at the thought. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. "Arturo isn't even here anymore," I said.

"Of course he is. He never left."