Chapter 60: Codename: Aconite Chapter Ten

My senses are shocked back to life when I hear the obnoxious sound of the telephone. I reach my arm out from under the sheets and feel around the nightstand until my hand connects with the phone. I pick up the receiver and place it to my ear, while I continue to keep my eyes closed, holding onto the last remnants of sleep.

“Dobroye utro, Gospozha Medea, this is the front desk,” greets the masculine and contrite voice on the other end of the line, addressing me by my current alias.

It takes a moment for my semi-asleep brain to translate the Russian being spoken to me and realise I have to respond in kind. This is the one downside to international travel. While I speak many languages fluently, I am not a fan of being woken up in order to do so.

“Dobroye utro,” I say back tiredly, a yawn escaping me.

“I apologise for the disturbance, but a phone call has come through for you. Would you like me to patch it through?” the man asks warily. Who the hell is trying to reach me? Who the hell even knows I’m here?

“Uh, sure, send it through,” I say cautiously. The line goes quiet for a moment until I hear a click on the other end of the line.

“Ciao stellina!” greets a comforting croaky voice. I forgot, there are only two people who know where I am and how to find me.

I smile and sit up rubbing the sleep from my eyes, “Ciao mamma. Why are you calling me at my hotel in Russia?” I ask as I look over at the time on the clock, “And at eight in the morning,” I say in disapproval.

“Don’t tell me you’re sleeping in while you’re on the job,” she tuts as I hear the distinct sound of her inhaling a cigarette. Smoking is her one and only vice and has left her with a smoker’s voice, which my father seems to find sexy. To each their own.

“I would hardly call sleeping until eight, sleeping in,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Don’t you go rolling your eyes at me,” she admonishes me.

“I wasn’t!” I deny.

“I can hear it in your voice. Besides, a mother always knows,” she says confidently. Her motherly instincts are as impressive as they are annoying.

“You never call me while I’m on a job, is everything alright?” I ask with concern.

“Of course, I was just so excited to see you and by the time I got home, you’d flown off to Russia. Something I’m not comfortable with, by the way,” she says with strong disapproval.

I throw the covers off me, get up, and stretch out my muscles while adjusting the fabric of my ruched lilac top and pants, back into their rightful positions. “You’re uncomfortable with me taking a job? Since when?” I ask, grabbing my matching robe off the edge of the bed and throwing it on.

“I’m uncomfortable with you being in Russia while they’re in the middle of yet another revolution.”

I grab the phone base and stretch out the chord, carrying it with me into the ensuite bathroom. “It’s not going to impact me or my work. Besides, between the mafia, crime lords and oligarchs I have endless resources here. I’ll be perfectly fine. Don’t stress yourself out worrying about me,” I say, placing the base of the phone on the counter and grabbing my toothbrush from my travel pouch. I hold the receiver between my ear and shoulder and apply some toothpaste to my toothbrush.

“I’m your mother, Dasha, it’s in my nature to worry about you,” she says more softly.

I smile at her soft motherly tone. As an assassin, she’s hard as steel, but as my mother, she’s soft as a kitten. Well, most of the time anyway. It’s a comfort to know that no matter how old I get, I’ll always have my mother to fret and care for me.

“Ti voglio bene, mamma,” I say warmly, as I begin to brush my teeth.

“Ti voglio bene, stellina,” she says with a smile in her voice, “Now, tell me about this job of yours.”

“Not much to say,” I tell her between strokes of the toothbrush. I spit and rinse out my mouth, putting the brush and paste back in their pouch. “Just a simple job. Guy wants justice for the wrongful death of his wife. Nothing very interesting about it, but the level of information this guy was able to get me was crazy impressive,” I say, carrying the phone base back out to the bedroom. I place the base on the bed and reach over grabbing the paperwork Armand provided for me as I climb onto the bed.

“Impressive how?”

“I tried doing my own digging on this target and I couldn’t find even half of what this guy did. I guess it just goes to show just how much of a motivator revenge is,” I say, grabbing one of the snapshots of my target and looking it over. The photographs could double as samples for a modelling portfolio. Silas Istrati may be an uncaring, reckless driver, but he’s hot as hell. I’m actually looking forward to meeting him in person and seeing just how good he looks in real life. No one said I couldn’t ogle a target a little before I help him meet his maker.

“So, what are your plans today then?” Mother asks.

“According to the dossier, my target is here in Moscow and there’s a coffee shop he likes to frequent. So, I’m going to go there to observe him for a bit. Get a sense of him and his routine and then plan accordingly,” I say as I become transfixed on his smouldering eyes. I can’t quite tell what colour they are from this picture, but there’s something about them I find very alluring. I wonder how they’ll look when he takes his final breath.

“An easy day then,” she surmises.

“Pretty much. How did everything go in Columbia? You and father making up for lost time?” I ask slyly.

“But of course,” she says proudly, “He’s worn out and catching up on some sleep and I’m still full of energy, so I felt I’d call my favourite daughter.”

“I’m your only daughter,” I chuckle.

“That’s why you’re so easily my favourite,” she says matter-of-factly, “And Columbia went very well, thank you for asking. I did have to resort to alternative measures a few times, but the job got done in the end.”

“Congratulations. Anyway, I better get going, I’ve got work to do.”

“Oh, before you go! Your grandparents called me, they are planning a dinner in Italy for the family next month and expect you to be there. This little assignment should be cleared up by then, shouldn’t it?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I can’t wait to see Nonna Viridis and Nonno Gaetano,” I say with excitement, “I promise I’ll be home in time for their family dinner.”

“Perfect! I’ll be sure to let them know. You take care, and be safe stellina,” she says sternly.

I smile at the warning, “I will. See you soon,” I say, and hang up the phone. I take a final look at one of the many snapshots of Silas, an air of excitement buzzing through me. “Okay, Mr Istrati. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”