Kidnapped By The Italian Mafia

(Marco)

The place was small for an artist studio, or at least that's what I thought. It was a flat space with no dynamic and nothing to stimulate the eye other than b.a.r.e brick walls splattered with bright paints. If I looked hard enough, I could see dry clay sticking perilously to the wooden beams that ran overhead on the ceiling.

What a weird place.

"Oh my, what a beautiful ensemble of men!" A deep voice seemed to squeal enthusiastically. It was followed by a stomping of feet and tall body appearing from nowhere to greet us. The man wiped stained hands on a towel at his hip and smiled at us. "Bonjour, je suis Jean-Louis. Welcome to my studio."

I didn't really want to shake his hand, but I did it anyway to avoid being rude. Contrary to my paranoia, the green paint on his palm didn't come off on my own. "Bonjour. My name is Marco and these are my companions," I motioned to the men standing behind me silently. "I came here in search of information you might have."

"Moi? Information?" He placed a hand on his c.h.e.s.t and blinked bashfully. "How daring." He smirked at us. "My sculptures have many ears. What do you seek?"

I pulled out the picture in my coat pocket and handed it to him. It was a celebrity picture, so it wasn't really weird that I had it. "This woman."

Jean-Louis took the picture and immediately beamed. "Ah yes! My beautiful muse." He handed the picture back. "She made me beaucoup money. Such a stunning face she has. Those cheekbones… mon dieu her cheekbones are to die for. My dear muse is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, aside from my darling Claudette, of course." He turned to walk back into a deeper part of the studio, and I assumed he wanted us to go with him, so I followed.

As we went down a hall, many large canvases were strung up, all showcasing things like features of a face. On one canvas there was a pair of eyes, on another canvas lips, and on another one like the lower half of a face and c.h.e.s.t covered by a thin sheet. The face seemed to be contorted in a pleasurable expression. Then the hallway widened and caved out into an enormous room that had many sculptures, all ranging in size. The sculptures didn't seem to have anything to do with the paintings.

Where the paintings showed a passionate side to the artist, the sculptures seemed more aggressive and melancholy.

"Here we are. My shrine." Jean-Louis stopped in front of a large hollowed out sculpture. Inside of it was another sculpture, and the whole thing reminded me of a hollow egg. "My muse." It was the body of a woman, lean and tall with a beautiful figure. Her face was missing, but he had modeled every part of her body, with little holes poked into the clay to represent moles. "Why do you seek her?"

"She knows someone I am looking for." It was a reach but it was all I could say. "I need to find this person."

"Are you certain?" He looked thoughtful. "Who are you searching for? Perhaps she has mentioned the name."

Apprehensive as I was, I refrained from sharing too much information and only stared at the artist. I didn't know him, he couldn't be trusted. "Why do you want to know?"

"Perhaps I can help. I know many people as well." He shrugged casually. "And if you want honesty, I do not know your intentions. I must protect my muse at all costs."

This man was perceptive as f.u.c.k. He stared at me through narrowed eyes until I finally gave in and mentioned something. "Has she mentioned the name Katarina?"

"The party heiress? No but her friend, the foreigner has mentioned her. They were best friends." He crossed his arms and stroked his imaginary goatee. "She is dead, non?"

"Yes."

"Why are you chasing a ghost?" He raised an eyebrow at me. He was eerily perceptive, but he couldn't know the truth. "Nevermind. Your business is your own. My muse has not mentioned her."

"Do you know where 'your muse' might be? I would like to speak to her." I was well aware that Isabella was out of the country, but I needed to make sure.

"She is working in England with her foreigner English friend, Moira." He waved me off and picked up a tool to continue his work. He turned the sculpture and began poking little holes into the shoulder area. I felt like I recognised this body somehow. "That is all I know of her whereabouts."

Well my job was done, so I gave the eccentric man my thanks and took my leave. My companions were waiting for me patiently, observing the bland room around them like there was anything interesting to see there. "Let's go."

Back in the car, I had Lina waiting for me to return, handcuffed as she was in the back seat. I gave her a once over to make sure she was okay, but she just looked exceptionally bored. "So? Did you find anything?"

"Nothing too interesting. Hey, when you said Katarina is in Portugal, where exactly is she?" I had a strong sense that Lina was lying to me just to throw me for a loop. There was absolutely no way Kat had managed to gather manpower in such a short amount of time without running back to her father for help, and if she had done that, I definitely would have found out by now.

"I told you, I don't know. The only information she disclosed to me was a general gist of where she was going, probably because she knew this would happen after I was caught."

"How could she know you were going to be caught?" Lina scoffed and looked out the window, mumbling things she probably thought I couldn't hear. I wasn't going to pressure her into talking to me anymore. We had all the time in the world to discover the truth, and if I found out that she was lying to me, I'd kill her.

The fact of the matter was, we had a lead now, and before I followed anything else Lina had to tell me about Kat's whereabouts, I needed to go to England first and have a talk with Moira. I wasn't too entirely sure that Katarina would discard her as a contact once she broke free. She needed some type of support, after all. She was so dependent that she wouldn't be able to resist reaching out to her.

Scratch what I said before, we were on a timer to find out the truth, otherwise it would be the massacre of my family and the DiBiancci mafia legacy. I wasn't scared of Salvador but he was a beast when he was poked. The only man who had the balls to match him was my father and that was only because my mother was the brains of the operation. Our feud had gone on for far too long. I wasn't about to call a truce.

"So what now? Where are we going?" Lina's w.h.i.n.ey voice brought me back to Earth, disappointingly. I could spend all day plotting my revenge and not feel like I wasted a single second. It felt productive to plan out my ambitions.

"To the airport."

"Why?"

"We need to pay some friends a visit." Lina chewed on her lip, obviously worried about whatever said visit could entail. Or maybe she was worried about what I was going to do to her. Why exactly was I still lugging her around like a suitcase, anyway? "You won't be held hostage, don't worry."

"I'm already being held hostage." She motioned toward her cuffs. "But thanks for the sentiment."

"You're welcome." I was already pulling out my cellphone so I could check in with my mom. From what she had told me the last time we spoke, she would be meeting with her lawyer today so they could go over her plea deal. Just the thought of my mother sitting in prison for so many years infuriated me. Most of my family was going to be locked away, probably for good. I knew my father wasn't getting out at all.

The Sicilian police had been l.u.s.ting after seeing my dad locked up for decades, but they never had anything to hold against him. We had always been a suspected crime family, but it wasn't until Katarina ruined shit that our house of cards came tumbling down. Now it was just up to me and a few others to get structured again.

I didn't really care if my father went to prison for life, but my mother was a key piece to making the DiBiancci name as big as it was. I needed her, as lame as it sounded. Nobody was going to do what she did for me.

"Lina, did Katarina know the cops were after my family?"

"Of course she knew, that woman's a f.u.c.k.i.n.g genius." Lina grumbled on about Katarina's brains and how smart she was. I wasn't really interested and really wanted to hit fast forward. "She had it all figured out, she even started dropping hints to the authorities long before the raid."

How the f.u.c.k had she managed to do that?

I didn't want to voice the question out loud in front of Lina because that might display weakness. I didn't even want to have a shift in facial expression in front of her, so I tried my best to keep my face impassive.

"Why do you want to know these things, Marco?" She looked at me curiously. "Did you find her?"

"You'll find out when you find out. We're here." The car rolled to a stop in front of a gate, and I got ready to exit the vehicle so we could walk onto the tarmac toward the jet waiting for us. Lina followed behind me quietly with a guard leading her by the arm and her hands cuffed behind her back. "Good morning, Geofferey."

"Good morning, Mr. DiBiancci," the pilot greeted me with a tip of his hat as I ascended the steps of the aircraft. "We should be wheels up in fifteen minutes. How many people are joining you in the main cabin?"

"Just me and the lady here," I tipped my head toward Lina, who was being led up the steps with her hands still cuffed behind her. Geofferey looked at her, not even blinking twice at the fact that she was being led like a prisoner. He smiled politely at her and tipped his hat again.

"Good morning, ma'am. I will tell my co-pilot."

We nodded at each other before I turned to head inside the plane with my hands shoved deep in my pockets. With Lina still behind me, we passed the first cabin, the reception cabin and finally entered the main cabin, which was where my family and I always sat when we flew. Everyone in our security detail sat in the first and last cabins in front and behind the main cabin. They were comfortable, like business class cabins, but nowhere near the luxury of the main cabin.

"Damn, this is nice." Lina looked around as her hands were uncuffed and recuffed so she would be tied to the seat beside the window. I wanted to make sure she was as comfortable as possible. "How much did this plane cost?"

"Somewhere around a hundred million dollars." My hands tapped on the cream leather of the arm rests. "I'm not too sure."

"It was a birthday present, wasn't it?" She dead panned, staring at me with a flat look. "I knew it, you rich people are so spoiled."

"Aren't you rich too?" I raised an eyebrow at her. "Those numbers didn't lie."

She blushed as I made reference to the restaurant situation, where I took a look at her financial books. "I'm stinking poor compared to you."

"Everyone is."