Enola was a remarkable person and a powerful female. We hit it off once Andrea was asleep again, and I spent the night at her house with Dario. He was grumpier than usual, and I did not know why and did not even bother asking him.

A week had passed since my encounter with Enola, and it was finally the time to set up the first business meeting with Basilio, Dario's grandpa, Lazlo, his right arm, and Mattia, who handled most of the business contracts. I had no idea what type of business Dario had, but I guessed something related to guns. Since he despised how these dangerous substances ruin lives, drugs were out of the question. I was right when I said he had common sense; hopefully, he does not disappoint.

"We will finalize the contract's clauses and make adjustments if necessary, alright?" Dario remarked as we sat in his car. I was mad at him because he did not let me call dad this morning, saying that the call would hold us down and we would end up late for the meeting.

"Fine." My reply was dry, and I knew he noticed.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Dario glanced at me for a second, then back at the road. "Are you still angry about the call?"

"No."

"Good," he replied.

"Good? You know, that is precisely your problem. You don't read between the lines!" I reasoned, and he sighed. I knew I was overreacting, and one of the two reasons for my mood swings was my damn period. The other was Dario's nonchalance.

"You can call him now! I didn't say you can't talk to him in the car, Jolene," he suggested, and I scoffed.

"I don't want you to listen to our conversation, so no."

"Fine. That's your fucking problem, then." It was his turn to act grumpy, like he was the one suffering from menstrual cramps. If there were a contest for who argues the most in a day, we would ace it. His way of thinking was the opposite of mine, and I found adjusting to Italy, in general, difficult. I wanted to complain to dad about Dario's behavior because I was his little girl and could act spoilt in front of him; hence, I did not want to call dad in the car. Dario would either make fun of me or contrast everything I would say about him. I was betting on the latter.

After a minute of counting in my head, I calmed down. "What type of businesses do you own?" I asked, breaking the tension that roamed in the vehicle.

"Casinos, industrial Real Estates, and weapons." He stopped at a red light and looked at me. He was too serious for my taste. "Even though gambling is legal in Italy, and we own a gambling license, our customers gamble within reason in my casinos, and I do not allow fraud. Also, I own many lands, so I decided to invest in real Estate and build facilities and factories which help people from the lower-class find jobs -not related to the mafia- and work with me. Finally, we manufacture firearms, pistols, and more weapons and sell them worldwide. I do not trade my items to terrorists, only to a selective few authorized military organizations," he explained like he had clarified this to someone before. I did not expect this answer since I assumed the worst, like human trafficking or rape.

As I revised what he said in my head, something clicked. "You don't need our branch to secure a legal income for your off-springs, as you explained to dad. You lied." I reminded him and crossed my arms. I knew he had a different reason for summoning me, and my curiosity was killing me, but my ego held me back.

The light turned green, and he finally stopped looking at me. "It's a bit complicated. Gambling in Italy is illegal, as I said. I got away with some of the things I did, not that bad, because I listened to my cop friends' requests, so I did not lie. Yet, I do have another reason for wanting to team up with you. I will tell you when the time is right."

"You mean when you can fully trust me," I corrected.

"You know it, monello."

I rolled my eyes. "We are only a year apart. Stop calling me a brat in Italian!"

"But you are smaller than me in size, making you a monello to me."

"Don't be a smartass." I stretched my arms and looked around. "We have been on the road for an hour, if not more! How far is this place? I need to move my body."

He smirked, and I sensed an inappropriate comment coming to irritate me. "There are a few ways to move your body, and I can teach you. I promise to be very gentle."

"Shut up, puttana. That's disgusting!"

"You are learning Italian, bravo. And we are here." Dario parked the car in front of a big building without me realizing it, and I was in awe. It had more than twenty floors, and its structure was exquisite, to say the least. "I see you like the place."

"I do. Whoever designed it is a genius!"

Dario nodded. "Yeah, I paid him generously to exceed my expectations. He did, so I made him the head of architecture in my companies." We walked inside, and I almost gasped at the golden colors, crystal chandeliers, and navy blue carpets. I felt like I was going to a ball to meet royalty. "The coordination and colors were Enola's idea. We dealt with everything related to the weapons here and constructed this building to commemorate my late father. I don't know if you noticed, but we named the building Paolo's Windfall." Dario mentioned and pressed the elevator button. We did not wait long as the doors opened, and we stepped inside. He clicked on the 22nd floor, and I looked at him.

"That's an interesting name, but why windfall? One can associate the word with arbitrariness," I asked.

He nodded. "His death was out of the blue. We were devastated, or at least that was what Enola said. I don't remember that day clearly since I was too young. Anyways, as sudden as dad's death was, grandpa raised our fortunes as his way of taking revenge on our enemies. Nonno was furious at my father's murderers; sorrow took over him for years, but he never neglected us. We were wealthy before dad was gone, but we definitely gained more profitable assets, you could say, by serendipity or fate. Hence, the windfall. I came up with this name once I reached the age grandpa told me about the family business." I saw sadness in Dario's eyes, but I did not ask. It must have been difficult for all of them. Even for Dario, who did not remember him like the rest. He had to grow up hearing stories about it instead of experiencing them with him.

"Do you know who killed uncle Paolo?" I whispered and glimpsed at his reflection in the mirror.

Dario glanced at me for a moment. "You don't need to know," he said and stepped out once the doors opened.

"Why not?" I asked as I walked beside him.

"Because it's none of your business!" he snapped, and I stopped. Dario looked back at me and sighed. "Not even Enola knows, so don't expect me to tell you. It's too dangerous."

"Just because we are girls? Is that it?" I asked, knowing I was pushing my luck.

"Because I have an obligation to protect you both. First, Enola is my family, my only sister, and I will do everything I can to keep her safe. Second, you are my guest, and I am responsible for your safety until you return to New York. Don't pry too much into my affairs, and enter the fucking room, Jolene." I did not notice him holding the door open for me until I looked past him. The room was a big office. I saw Basilio smiling, Lazlo sleeping on the couch, and Mattia typing on a laptop.

"Finally! Tu sei qui. What took you so long?" Basilio asked as he stood up and stepped closer. He shook my hand and side-hugged Dario.

"Your nipote is a slow driver," I replied with a grin to ease the tension, and Dario pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No, you can distract a village with your chattering and questions," he fired back.

"You did not have to answer any of them! Don't blame me for your shortcomings!"

"Damn it. You are an annoying bitc-"

Before Dario could finish that sentence, someone clapped his hands. "Cut it with the sexual tension and kiss already. I know you are craving some of Dario, Jolene." I snapped my neck to Lazlo and saw him smirking at us. Mattia was watching in silence, and Basilio laughed.

"Dario... do you value Lazlo?" I asked.

Dario finally read the mood and decided to take a step away from me. "Not enough to save him from you. Feel free to do whatever you want. Just don't kill him."

"Perfectto!" I said, and Lazlo's eyes widened.

"Son, you better hide. She can fight, and I don't think you can beat her." I heard Basilio say as I put my bag on the couch and took off my coat. "My back is still hurting," he added. I stood before Lazlo, grabbed his ear, and twisted it before he could react. He instantly jumped, and I took that as my chance to make him sit by planting his face on the couch and holding his hands behind his back. My grip was firm, and he winced in pain.

"You spoke perfect English just now, meaning you can understand every word, so let me tell you something for future reference. I don't appreciate these types of sick jokes, so never again. I am not a doll you can play with however you want or an object you can step on to have a good time. If I ever hear anything remotely close to this again, I will take different and more painful measures, okay?" I said in a calm tone, but I was nowhere near calm.

Lazlo frantically nodded, and I let go of him. His ear was too red, and he rubbed his shoulders, and I felt satisfied. "Now, shall we begin our meeting?" I smiled.

My period turned me into an enraged demon, but his comment was insulting.

~~~

1.01.2023 Happy New Year!

I hope you liked this chapter. Please comment, so I can learn from you and improve. 

See you next chapter :)