Chapter XXXV

"Where are you?"

I quickly walked away from the door and ran back into the long hallway.

"Here," I said quickly, so it sounded like I wasn't in the room yet.

Something told me that I shouldn't have seen this room.

On the other hand, he should have expected it, I mean, my things are only in this room thanks to him. And now I'm only here because he sent me to pack, so he shouldn't be surprised.

Still, I want to avoid another conflict. It's better that no one knows that I saw this.

Chiara appeared in the hallway and threw her arms in the air.

"Here you are, what are you doing here?" she frowned.

"I just wanted to look around." I felt like a child who had to justify himself to his parents.

"Okay," she said bluntly. I took a deep breath and followed her back into the dressing room. I was incredibly grateful that she didn't press any further.

"Amelia has already roughly packed your suitcase, take a look, maybe something is missing or you need something else."

I nodded and went to my suitcase and took a look around. I didn't really care what was packed. My thoughts were still on the lock on the wall.

The safe should be the size of a small room, considering the door and the structure of the room. Dante doesn't shoot up his weapons room, but he does have a safe, but for what. What could be more valuable to a mafia boss?

"Yes, everything is fine," I went back downstairs from the dressing room. As I descended the stairs, I took a closer look at the bookshelf on the wall. I was impressed by the variety of literature I could find there. From old editions of Roman philosophers to socially critical stories and biographies of great men. I picked up a book at random and made myself comfortable in the corner of the sofa.

"Okay, I'll leave you alone then, good night." With these words, Chiara left the room. I called out "good night" after her and then opened the book.

I had picked up The Art of War by Sun Tzu. Great, the perfect literature to fall asleep to. But if the gentleman is well-versed in this sphere, then I should study the book too.

After a few chapters on planning war tactics, I closed the book again and got up from the couch. I took my pack of cigarettes out of my handbag and went out onto the balcony. The balcony was huge and stretched for several meters.

I lit a cigarette and leaned against the grounds. My wedding and I am standing here alone, looking at the garden. Not that I would want Dante here, but I had imagined my wedding and my life differently.

I tried to let go of this idea, this dream of a free life, and to come to terms with the current situation, but at times like these, it is particularly difficult for me.

I was supposed to start a new life today with the man of my dreams.

I was supposed to be the happiest woman in the world today.

And I definitely wasn't supposed to be standing alone on the balcony today, calming my nerves with a cigarette.

The room behind the dressing room came to mind again. I threw the cigarette away and went back inside, taking direct steps to the weapons room.

Instinctively, I looked around before leaving the dressing room and going into the hallway.

This time I took a dagger from the wall and waved it in my hand. It was light and easy to handle.

Then I hung it back up and turned my attention to the hot weapons, i.e. firearms.

A semi-automatic called for attention, which I gave it immediately.

The rifle was really a dream and absolutely my favorite.

Further along the wall I could see a few protective vests.

Suddenly I heard a beep. My gaze swung to the screens in a flash.

On one of them there was a warning signal that flashed and made that annoying noise. The word "match" could be read.

It looked like the search engine had found a result. What was Dante looking for?

I still hadn't gotten to the pictures of the Martinelli family business. So far they've only given me a glimpse of an arms deal, and that wasn't enough to see behind the curtain.

I sat down on a desk chair and took a closer look at the screen.

Should I click on it? It's not really my business.

But then again, I'm part of this family now, even if I'm just Dante's wife.

The thought gave me goosebumps. I had just actually called myself his wife in my head.

I pushed that thought aside and then clicked on the match.

The search engine spit out a profile. So it wasn't a what Dante was looking for, but a who.

It was a man in his mid-forties with black hair and grey eyes.

He already had grey hair on his temples and also some wrinkles on his face.

A large scar adorned his right eyebrow and a large tattoo ran from his neck to his shoulder and chest.

His facial expression in the photo was icy and cold, as if he was dead inside. This made me flinch slightly.

Next to the photo was an overview of his person. There was no name, just a nickname, Tabak.

What kind of name is that? Tabak.....

If it's the same here as it is with us, then he got the name from someone else. It's against the rules to name yourself, at least in the Russian mafia. The members of the mafia families are named by their grandfather, whereas the lower ranks get their nicknames from their colleagues or us. This can either be banal and related to the person, like Fat Joe for example. He was given the name because of his body weight. But there can be other reasons for being named after something, like something you did or said. But the name tobacco pushes my creativity to its limits. I can't think of anything that would make sense. Even if he smokes, the name would be unspecific because most Mafiosi and members smoke. I read through the details about him.

He was a Bulgarian assassin with no loyalty, meaning he would work for whoever paid the most.

Why is Dante looking for him? I mean, he has enough men of his own who would do jobs and they are loyal to the point of blood.

I don't think he wants to hire him. But then what does he want?

Next to the profile picture were some surveillance photos. Of Tabak crossing the street, talking on the phone or talking to others in the café. So Dante either had him guarded or found out that he was being guarded.

I can't even tell from these documents whether Tabak is on our side or poses a threat to us.

If I can believe his penchant for killing, then I pray that he is on our side.

Apparently he is known for killing his victims with objects that are more of an everyday item. If the documents are to be believed, then he makes it a kind of challenge; the more harmless the object, the more brutal the murder.

I racked my brains over the various possibilities, but couldn't come to a sensible conclusion. There were simply too many options.

I was so lost in thought that it was only very late that I noticed the car that was now parked in the driveway on the left screen.

Fuck, Dante had come home.

I quickly closed the documents and undid everything so that only Match was visible on the screen. If Chiara didn't catch me and I was able to avoid a conversation about it, I wasn't sure if Dante would be able to do the same.

How long had he been here?

I pushed the chair back to its place and then quickly got up to run back.

Just as I was in the dressing room I heard footsteps on the stairs.

Fuck, what do I do now? I looked around for help. A plan, I need a plan really quickly.