Chapter 61: News On Arrival

Chapter 61: News On Arrival
Isla

Something I loved about Palermo. It was warmer. Not the cold and cloudy air that surrounds every now and then. The rain, I miss it but I wanted the warmer climate. Palermo was that for me. It was warmer than I expected. The morning sun but the old buildings with a golden glow. I could still smell the street espresso, sea breeze and fresh bread. I stood in the middle of the lobby, the head quarters of Hisini interiors, holding the transfer letter in my hand.

Well back at San Francisco, the headquarters had pushed for my transfer earlier into the months after I had left Dante. But with my life currently in danger, leaving his sight was out of the option. Now the headquarters was in the same location as his family. Didn't strike me as a coincidence.

The building was beautiful. Grand iron gates, soft creamy walls and tall arched windows with green shutters. It didn't look like a company, it looked like a house that hid secrets. Inside, the floors were marble. The ceilings were painted with soft floral designs. The place felt silent and almost sacred. People whispered as they walked like they were inside the church. A woman at the reception desk looked up with a smile. "Buongiorno. You must be Isla Anderson, yes?”

I nodded, still taking in the space.

“Welcome to Hisini Interiors. The director will see you now.”

“The director?” I repeated. “I thought I was meeting the senior designer.”

“No,” the woman said gently. “He asked to meet you personally.”

Confusion washed over me, trying to think of how that might be possible. My heart kept racing, the anxiety wasn't what I had prepared for. I grabbed my laptop tighter to my chest, still clinging to the transfer letter. Are they going to fire me at the spot? I mean this was what they've always wanted they wouldn't do that. Right? I followed her through the long hallway with framed sketches, mood boards and photographs of restored villas. Everything was beautiful in a way that felt intentional, almost emotional.

We stopped in front of a tall wooden door. I tapped my heels just waiting behind her. She only knocked once, "Signor, Barone. She's here."

Something about that name felt familiar. I walked in after her, seeing the back of his head. My mind drew me back into memory, the distinct features were not new nor strange. They were something I had been thinking about. The cologne hit me first. The gentle words, the smile, the danger lurking in the shadows.

Barone?
The same name that approved every major decision across the branches.
The same name whose designs looked like stories?
The same name my colleagues back home, whispered in fear and admiration.

His turned around. Strolling his way to me. I froze. Blinking to see if I might need meds for hallucinations.

"Leave us Carla. Thank you." Steps of pointed heels faded into the background as the door clicked the noise out of my hearing.

He looked exactly like the rumors. Actually, he looked different than the last time I saw him. At the party. Tall, quiet, dark-haired, eyes intense like he was always thinking about ten things at once. He wore a black shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly, revealing a scar on his wrist. No tie. No smile.

"Sicario?" His gaze landed on me like he knew me. Well he did know me but not enough to swallow this pill of surprise. For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.

"Miss Anderson," he said voice calm and low. "Welcome to the headquarters. How are you enjoying the city so far."

I blinked, mortified as I watched his hands which showed like a kind gesture. "You...own the company."

"Yes. Not too many people know that. I just like working behind the scenes you know." His expression was a different ball game. His eyes kept holding mine as he feigned ignorance. The memories of that night flashed before my eyes. Someone I was avoiding ended up being my boss. Dante wasn't going to like this. I knew in my heart. We agreed to be open to each other but how do I even begin to tell him this?

A small unreadable expression crossed his face. Something between amusement and curiosity. I felt my pulse jump. This entire time, I didn't think I was going to be meeting him like this. Did he know me all along? Did he quickly approve my transfer because he wanted me close? This felt like a long game and I was just meeting the players.

He stepped aside.

"Come." He said. "I want to show you something." I walked into his office. Finally getting a glimpse of his office. I was too shocked to notice anything in the beginning. It was quiet, dim with floor to ceiling shelves of materials, sketches pinned on the wall and a single olive tree, growing inside a stone planter near the window.

I felt his eyes on me as I took in all of it.

"You have an eye." Sicario said. "Your work in San Francisco caught my eye. It was the first time I knew your name. So I..."

"Is this what we are going to be doing?" I cut him off. I was on my toes here and he was pretending this wasn't shocking of some sort. "You are going to pretend not to know me all along when you approached me at the party?"

He smiled, tapping his index finger on the table. "I was hoping we weren't going to talk about that. But since we are here, let's begin. Yes. The moment I heard your friend say your name, I knew I have heard that name before. I saw your face, then I remember the picture of those whose performance were outstanding and I approved them to work at the headquarters. I remember vividly that when your transfer letter was at the verge of being process, a year back. You rejected the offer. Can I know why you are here now?"

I swallowed. "The circumstances called for it. I was moving and I realized I could actually work here at the headquarters. I didn't think my application for a transfer would be so easily approved since I had rejected it before."

"Like I said, you have an eye for design. I love your work."

"Just work nothing more, Sicario?" His brows, arched in question. "If we are going to be working together, it would be just work. I don't want to be entangled into anything else."

He cornered a smile. "That's a shame. Here I
was thinking, we could be good friends."

No kidding.