Chapter Fourteen

Harper

I wander around the huge backyard, taking in the lush gardens and pristine landscaping. It looks like something out of a lifestyles of rich and famous people magazine or something. It's all so tasteful and beautiful – it really looks like a work of art.

The two Great Danes, Ella and Fitz, follow me around, begging for my attention. They make me smile and almost make me forget the large man in the dark suit following me around. Oh, he stays a respectful distance behind, never getting obtrusively close, but he's back there all the same. I know he's watching me – making sure I don't execute some grand escape.

Which only adds to my feeling like a prisoner.

I throw the ball as far as I can, watching in awe as the two big dogs race for it. Their long, lean, well-muscled bodies are fluid and graceful and are a joy to watch. They just seem so happy and carefree – living life the way it's meant to be lived.

And when they come back, Ella drops the ball at my feet, they jostle with each other, trying so patiently to wait for their reward – and not quite managing it. I laugh and give them scratches behind their long, floppy ears. It's a reward I'm more than happy to give them.

These dogs are so sweet, friendly, and obviously well-loved. I have no doubts that just based on what I saw, Mr. Ross – Rob – dotes on them endlessly. Which completely clashes with the image in my head of Roberto Rossi. I see him as a tough man. A hard man. A man not to be trifled with because he's capable of doing terrible things.

And yet, when I look at these two dogs, so well-cared for and loving – I know that's a reflection of their owner. I've been around dogs enough in my life to know that a dog that's mistreated or neglected doesn't act this – joyful and loving.

I'm having a difficult time reconciling the two sides of the man in my mind. On the one hand, he's intimidating. He scared and badgered poor Landon and Max into – whatever he scared badgered them into. And he's holding me here as a prisoner. Yes, he says it's to keep me out of harm's way – but harm from what? It doesn't make any sense to me.

And on the other hand, he's a man who quite obviously has a soft spot for animals. He seems to treat and love them better than he does people. Not that I can blame him entirely on that score – animals truly are better than a lot of people out there.

I get to my feet and look at my watch, feeling my stomach grumbling a little bit. I hadn't eaten much of the breakfast – I'd lost my appetite after being told I was essentially a captive – and we're pushing lunchtime.

Turning, I walk back toward the house, Ella and Fitz, their floppy ears and tails bouncing, trot along beside me happy as can be. When I reach the table on the patio, I see that his maid Carla already has a tray sitting there waiting for me. I look at her, grateful.

“I thought you might be hungry,” she says.

“Famished,” I say. “Thank you so much. I hope it wasn't too much trouble.”

She waves me off. “No trouble at all,” she says. “I'm happy to do it.”

I sit down at the table and take the cover off the plate, my mouth watering at what looks like an amazing sandwich – the sort of thing I loved at Vito's Deli back in New York. I look up at her and smile.

“Mr. Rossi misses home sometimes,” she says. “So, I do what I can to bring a little piece of it here to him.”

I take a bite of the sandwich, my mouth exploding with the flavors and my eyes roll back in my head. I make a noise I'm sure sounds nearly obscene as I chew, savoring every morsel of it.

“I never got to have anything like this back home,” I say, pointing at the sandwich. “I fell in love with it when I moved to New York.”

“Where did you grow up, Miss Wilkins?” she asks.

“Harper, please,” I say. “And I grew up in a tiny little town called Blackburn. It's an hour or so outside of Atlanta.”

Carla's smile is warm and genuine. She's probably in her mid-twenties – probably not much older than I am. She has dark hair, bottomless brown eyes, olive complected skin, and even under her uniform – a shapeless gray dress with a white apron – I can tell she's got a nice figure. She's a very pretty woman.

I find myself wondering how she ended up being somebody's maid – and whether or not she has other dreams and ambitions of her own. Maybe it's because we're similar in age – or maybe just because I'm lonely and have no other options – but I get a sense that I can talk to her.

“Carla – can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

I motion to the seat across from me and take another bite of that heavenly sandwich while she sits down. When she's seated, she looks at me, an amused smile upon her lips.

“Sorry,” I say. “This is just amazing.”

“I'm glad you like it.”

I wash down the bite with a drink of the Diet Coke she'd thoughtfully brought out and catch sight of Ella and Fitz looking at me, licking their lips, a hopeful gleam in their eyes that melts my heart. I don't make a habit of feeding other people's dogs, just because I don't want to teach them bad habits or give them something they may be allergic to. The last thing I'd want to do is hurt these two precious pups.

“It's okay,” Carla says. “Mr. Rossi usually shares a little bit of his sandwich with them when he thinks nobody's looking. He can't really help himself with those two. Gives them anything they want.”

I laugh and nod. “I can see why.”

I tear off a piece of the sandwich and toss them each a bite, which they devour in the blink of an eye.

“I can't give you too much, now,” I tell them.

As if they understand, they both lay down – though continue to cast those hopeful eyes up at me. I just laugh and shake my head before turning back to Carla. I know I probably shouldn't interrogate his maid, but I feel compelled to anyway. I just want to get a better sense of the man, I guess. Maybe, it will somehow make this whole situation a little easier to bear.

“What is Mr. Rossi like?” I ask. “He seems so –”

“Guarded?” Carla says. “Aloof? Maybe even cold?”

I nod and give her a smile. “Yes, to all those things,” I say. “A bit intimidating too.”

“He's a good man,” she says. “I get the sense though, that he's – lonely.”

“Lonely?”

She nods. “He rarely goes out. Doesn't have very many friends,” she says. “Most days, he just sits at home, playing with Ella and Fitz. I mean, he seems happy enough, but it's actually a little bit sad.”

I pick at the sandwich on my plate, strangely enough, feeling a bit of pity for him myself. To have all the money you could ever want or need, the ability to do anything at any time and to sequester yourself away from the world? It was more than just a little bit sad.

“How long have you worked for him?” I ask.

“Ever since he moved out to LA – so, almost five years now?”

“How did you end up being his –” I hesitate to say the word aloud, only because it sounds so demeaning to my ears.

Carla laughs as if understanding my hesitance. “I don't mind the word maid,” she says. “It's just a word and it doesn't bother me. But, he insists on calling me his house manager instead.”

“House manager,” I say. “It has a nicer ring to it, I think.”

She shrugs. “Words only have power if you give it to them,” she says. “Anyway, my mom worked for a family in the neighborhood and when Mr. Rossi moved in, she helped me get in. It's not glamorous, but it's an honest day's work. I have no regrets.”

“Did you ever want to do anything else with your life?”

“Of course,” she says. “I'm going to be a doctor. Pediatrics. That's my goal. And if not for Mr. Rossi, I might not have ever had the chance to pursue it.”

“What do you mean?”

A faint smile touches her lips and I get the maybe not so crazy notion that she's in love with him. But the wistfulness of that smile also tells me that it's probably unrequited.

“He and I were talking one day,” she says. “And it came out that I wanted to eventually start taking classes and get myself on a career path toward becoming a doctor. He told me to get myself enrolled in classes and give him the bill. He's paying for all my schooling – books, tuition – everything. I work here on days I don't have classes and on breaks – although, he is always encouraging me to take time off to just go have fun and relax. He says that life is meant to be enjoyed and I shouldn't spend all my time looking after him. But, I wouldn't feel right – letting him pay for my schooling and not do something to try and earn it. Not that I can really ever repay him for all he's doing for me.”

I sit back in my seat, absorbing everything she'd just told me. It's yet another thing that massively clashes with the ideas floating around in my head about him.

“You look surprised,” Carla says.

I shake my head and then find myself nodding. “Well, yeah,” I say. “A little. Okay, maybe a lot.”

She cocks her head and looks at me. “Why is that?”

I take a bite of the potato salad and chew on it thoughtfully, trying to arrange my thoughts in a way that seems, at least, coherent.

“I suppose it's because of this whole situation,” I say. “I mean, I feel like I'm being kept prisoner here. I can't leave. Can't go anywhere without somebody watching me, to make sure I can't escape. Mr. Rossi says it's for my own protection, but –”

“If that's what he said, you can take that at face value, Harper,” she says. “Listen, I don't know what he or his family did back in New York exactly, but just based on things I've heard and a few conversations I've had with him, I gather it isn't necessarily good. I think that Mr. Rossi moved out here to get away from that life and is trying to get out from under all of his father's – business dealings.”

I look at her and feel my eyes grow wide as the weight of her words starts to sink into my mind. Things started to fall together in my mind now and I realize that I'm in way deeper than I first thought. And it also makes me realize that Landon is too.

“Are you saying,” I say, pitching my voice low as if we were in a crowded room, “that he's in the – Mafia?”

Carla quickly shakes her head. “I know I probably shouldn't be sharing this with you – I shouldn't gossip,” she says. “But I think you should know before you judge him too harshly.”

“Should know what?” I ask, an ominous feeling of dread circling my heart.

Carla sighs and looks around as if she too is afraid of being overheard. “Just from little things I've seen and heard here and there, my understanding is that Mr. Rossi's father – Abramo – was the head of a Mafia family in New York.”

My eyes grow so wide, I'm afraid they're literally going to pop out and fall on the table in front of her. That is the last thing I wanted to hear – even though, part of me expected it, given everything that's happened since we met Roberto Rossi.

“Carla, am I in danger here?”

She shakes her head again, a faint smile touching her lips. “Actually,” she says. “I think this may be the safest place for you. Mr. Rossi is a smart man – not just book smart, but street smart. And if he thinks you're in danger out there and is keeping you here to protect you, you'd be smart to just sit back and enjoy your stay here.”

“The Mafia,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Oh my God. What have I gotten myself into?”

“It's not what you think,” Carla says.

“How is it not what I think? It's the Mafia.”

“Mr. Rossi is ashamed of his father's – organization,” she says. “He moved out here to get away from it.”

I look at her, the knots in my stomach constricting painfully, my head swirling with a thousand different thoughts and emotions all at the same time – and I can't make sense of any of them. A whole lot more makes sense now though.

But the question that continues to nag me – maybe even stronger than before – is what did Landon have to do with the Mafia? And what was my role in all of this supposed to be?

I jump when I feel a hand close on mine. Looking up into Carla's eyes, she gives me a smile and my hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Harper, there's a lot I don't know,” she says. “And a lot more I don't want to know. But the one thing I can tell you with absolute certainty is that Roberto Rossi is a good man. If he thinks you'll be safer here than where ever you were before, you can bank on that. He'd never do a thing to hurt you. He's most definitely not his father.”

I nod and take another drink of my soda, looking out across the yard, trying to process everything she'd just told me.

“Anyway,” Carla says as she stands. “I should probably get back to work.”

“Thank you,” I say. “For talking to me.”

She gives me a smile. “Of course.”

Carla departs, leaving me alone with Fitz and Ella – and the babysitter assigned to keep an eye on me. I can't see him and don't know exactly where he is, but I know he's out there somewhere. And probably not all that far away.

I turn everything Carla told me over and over in my mind, trying to make some sense of it. Trying to make what seems like a hundred disparate parts of Roberto Rossi come together to form a whole, complete picture for me – and fail miserably at it. To say that he's a complicated man would be a vast understatement.

Of all the things I thought would happen in my life, being the “guest” of a Mafia boss wouldn't have made the list. But Carla seems so adamant that he's not a bad man. That he's not the kind of cold-blooded killer it would take to run a crime family.

But I have to wonder how much of her judgment is clouded by her feelings for him – not to mention what he's doing for her. I just don't know what to think.

Once again though, my mind circles back to the questions – how is Landon mixed up with the mob? And what do I have to do with any of this?