She looks at me, surprised by the question. “I thought you wanted to go in first.”
“I want to go in, but he’s your brother…”
Bella seems a little afraid, but she follows the doctor toward Luca, and I clasp my hands together trying to contain my anxiety.
“Chiara…”
I look in Francesco’s direction, but his face isn’t very good. “What’s going on?”
“Paolo called me, the Russian wants to see you and tell you in person why he shot Luca.”
“Why me?”
“I don’t know, we could just carry on torturing him; I just thought I’d say it; after all, I promised not to hide anything.”
His voice sounds a little resentful, and I feel bad for having spoken to him like that. “I’m going!” I don’t know what came over me; the last time I saw a man being tortured, I panicked, and here I am, getting into the same situation of my own free will.
“Are you sure?”
“You’re not going to let him hurt me, right?”
“Never, you’ll be safe.”
“Let’s go then.”
I follow Francesco toward the elevator, getting into the car and heading toward the Di Santis’ villa. As soon as we pass the gates of the house, despite the darkness of the night I can see the shape of the bodies lying on the ground, I let out my breath loudly, noticing that they are all dead.
“We haven’t had time to collect the bodies yet, we’ve had to increase security for the business and the family, we’ll try to do that in a few hours.” I get out of the car and see bodies lying near us. The image makes my stomach churn, and I wonder how I’m going to be able to watch another man being tortured.
“Lady Milena and Bella should rest; maybe they should go to my place…”
“Don’t worry; Don Henrico has several houses scattered around the city; they will be sent to one of them.”
I nod and follow him down the cold, grey corridors, hearing screams ringing off the walls. Francesco opens the door to a roombigger than the one I was in last time; four men are holding instruments of torture, and a doctor is in a corner monitoring the blood transfusions. I look at the man sitting in the chair; his whole body is covered in blood, andhis face is disfigured, but he still smiles when he sees me.
“Here she is.” His voice comes out weak, and his Russian accent rings through the room, making the men look at him with disgust. “The girl with the golden hair, I missed you.”
I look at him, trying to make out some trace, something that would make me recognize the man in front of me, but nothing, I don’t know who he is. “What do you want with me?”
“A lot of things!” a disgusting smirk forms on his lips. “You look even more beautiful than last time.”
“Last time?”
“Don’t you remember in Moscow?”
“I have no idea who you are…”
“Nikolai call me Nikolai.”
“I don’t want to know your name; that’s not why I came here. Why did you attack the Camorra? I don’t have all the time in the world, and if you don’t hurry up and talk, I’ll leave.”
A smile forms on your lips, and I want to hit him until it disappears. “I saw you in Moscow last summer; you were havingdinner with your brothers in one of the best restaurants in the city; as soon as I looked at you, saw your hair and your smile, I knew…” He stops talking and lets out a loud laugh. I look at him confused, not really knowing what to expect; he looks like a madman. “I knew you’d be the woman I’d marry, I followed you to the hotel that day, and all the other days that followed.”
A shiver runs through my body; I remember feeling uncomfortable in Moscow, feeling that someone was watching me. I thought it was something in my head, but it turned out I was right; he was following me. Paolo looks at him angrily and lashes out, making him wince in pain. “Get to the point.”
“But then you agreed to marry him. It’s not your fault, darling. You didn’t know me, andyou didn’t realize that I would be the perfect husband. So I gave you time, I let you go to London to study, I let you realize that he wasn’t good enough for you, I let you call off the engagement of your own free will because you realized that he wasn’t good enough. But you didn’t; you stayed with him even though he wasn’t the one; after all, I am the one for you. When the engagement was announced to the public, I thought about kidnapping you and taking you to Russia, where we’d finally be happy, but I didn’t think you’d like it; I didn’t want to spoil the start of our relationship; you deserve a fairy tale.” I look at Francesco, and he seems as incredulous at his words as I am. “So I decided to attack the Camorra, take it over, kill Luca and meet you in London and then we’d live happily ever after. But your plane took a long time to leave, and you stayed here. I had to get your location from Luca to rescue you, but he’s stubborn; he wouldn’t tell me where you were. I told him we were going to get married, make love and have children, and that son of a bitch stabbed me just for telling him what my life would be like with my wife, so I shot him, hoping to kill him, told him how I was going to make love to you, how you would be mine. His father came to try to rescue his son, and Ishot him too, all for you; I killed them for our love”.
His speech is rushed and disjointed, like that of someone completely removed from reality, someone crazy. His smile makes me want to vomit, the way he looks at me is sickening. I fight the urge to run away from his gaze, his words, his image. But I can’t, not when he tried to kill the man I love. “You didn’t kill them, Luca and his father are alive.” He looks at me confused, almost disbelieving, as if nothing makes sense.
