Chapter 43: The Godfather's View

Santiago

"The fact that you are asking me not to get upset means you are anticipating that I won't like it, right? So why do you want to ask for it?"

"I don't know, just in case, you are a mafioso, more precisely, who has freshly become a young godfather of the Italian mafia."

"Do I scare you all of a sudden?" I asked with a wry smile.

What was I saying? She takes my provocations to heart to the point that she expresses her dissatisfaction, and there she is, retaliating like a rabid dog.

"Who told you I am afraid of you! I am just saying what I think."

"Okay, I get it. Go ahead, ask your question instead of sulking like a cat that has been given a bath!"

"You are a casino director and a godfather at the same time" she hesitates to continue.

"Yes and..?"

"Don't you wish, I don't know, to get out of this vicious circle and just be a simple manager?"

I must say that her question is relevant. It is well thought out.

I admit that I have thought about it, like many people in my environment, and it worries me. I regularly question what it means to gain respect or what it means to lead a normal life. I grew up in this background, I was raised in this framework. I only know this, and I know how it works inside and out. Violence and vices are part of it, which no longer shocks me.

I am simply from this world where I succeed. So, to answer your question, it is a no, and I appreciate my life this way. If I step outside of this culture, what do I have left? Goodbye to the casino, as the two are closely linked. And I am not sure I would come out alive after that. I can see in her wide-open eyes that my last sentence has touched her. What can I say, one cannot leave their family so easily, especially someone like me, who knows how to pull the strings and who knows all the secrets.

After this good coffee, we decide to return to our activities, especially since I noticed that Orely is very enthusiastic about the workshop I'm having done for her, and it makes me very happy that she appreciates my effort to please her. It is almost six o'clock and I ask Alvaro to drop by the local bakery to pick up a few pastries for breakfast. I decide to go and take a look at Orely and, noticing that the door is ajar, I push it open slightly and see her scrutinizing every detail of the room. Satisfied with what I have just seen, I head for the kitchen to prepare the table before Alvaro returns.

"Do you need any help?" she urges, catching me off guard with my back turned.

"Oh, I would love to! Can you wash these strawberries." I demand, holding out the little tray and she nods, heading for the sink.

Meanwhile, the sun's golden rays filter through the curtains, illuminating the kitchen. It is the perfect moment to enjoy breakfast with the beautiful Orely, and just then there is a knock on the door. It's Alvaro, bag in hand.

Throughout the morning, Santiago asked one of his men to bring me the files I needed to finish my report. My mother followed my instructions to perfection, and I now have all my documents safely in my hands. With a few empty bottles lined up on the table, I was able to gather enough samples of carefully picked flowers, which I meticulously filled. With the windows open, the air is still imbued with the delicate fragrances that I have blended earlier. A few drops of essential oil, a label to display the substance on the jars, and all that's left is to send them to the laboratory.

After several hours of testing my mixtures, analyzing the content, and taking notes on every detail, I feel a pressing need to get some fresh air. My eyes confirm this with the fatigue that makes them heavy. I leave the workshop and head to join Santiago in the living room. He is so focused on his screen that he has not even heard that I am behind him. I lean over a little bit and glance at the monitor and see a kind of ledger filled with numbers and more numbers, allowing him to track the flow of funds as he had explained to me.

"Arrrh how boring!" I exclaimed, thinking out loud and barely sighing so as not to make a noise, but unexpectedly he made me flinch.

"You are spying on me now?" He says, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Aren't you tired of scaring people like that? And how did you know I was here?"

"That will teach you to walk like a cat! And with your sweet floral scent, it was not too hard to figure out that you were standing behind me."

Yeah, I was betrayed by my own weapon!

"So, what brings you here? Do you need anything?"

"I would like to go out and do some shopping."

As I leafed through a few magazines, all sorts of small, aesthetically pleasing pots of all sizes caught my eye in a little store in the shopping center. It is also a good excuse to get a change of scenery, as being cooped up in this apartment was putting my nerves on edge.

I am deeply irritated because I feel the urgent need to get out, to change the air, to breathe something other than the confined space in which I find myself. It is unbearable for me to remain locked in, especially with the security measures holding me back. My irritation mounts, my gestures become more nervous, my eyes desperately search for a way out. I feel trapped in this situation, and this frustration manifests itself in my movements and words, betraying my urgent desire for freedom.

Discreetly, he looks up from his computer and asks me when I was planning to leave. I tell him it is now! He runs his hands over his face and expresses his disapproval with a sigh.

"If it bothers you so much to come with me, why don't you stay here?”