The plane back to Italy was quiet. And weird. We had an entire commercial plane to ourselves but that doesn't mean it was enjoyable. Lorenzo took a ridiculous amount of calls - all in Italian. We exchanged glances a few times, but he never smiled. His small actions in the London alley had me wondering if I really was going to be killed. I was also beginning to notice just how good looking my capture was. But I also had to remember that this guy was head of the mafia. He could have me dead and completely non-exsistent in less than an hour.
But there was something about him that told me different. How broken he looked that morning in my room for example. Maybe there was a heart inside of that ribbed chest, but just shaded and unseen by bullets.
When the plane landed back in Italy someone else came onto the plane to join us. She was a fairly bigger woman around the waist, but carried the weight well, her dyed blonde hair bouncing as she walked. She was much older though, probably in her late sixties. I noticed she held a first aid case in her left hand.
"Mio figlio!" She gasped in an italian accent, rushing to Lorenzo. She held his shoulders, shaking him slightly. He winced, groaning. "What happened to you, my boy? I tell you Your job is silly. You will get hurt. But you never listen to mama."
Lorenzo smiled a little, shaking his head to her. 'Ma, treat the girl first." He said, standing painfully.
His mother frowned, tutting at him and forcing him to sit down again. "Stay." She said firmly.
At this point she had turned to me and gave me a warm smile which I returned cautiously. The second I did she practically pounced on me.
Her fingers were surprising soft at there work, and very gently. We chatted about pointless things. How the weather was in America compared to here in Italy. I never bothered to tell her her son had taken me hostage, she never asked. Only light conversation as she stitched my shoulder.
She left me finishing to clean the wound and went to treat her son. He was in much more pain than I. As soon as she applied any type of disinfectant he blurted words in italian, frequency being hit round the head making me presume his foreign words weren't polite.
A couple more of Lorenzo's associates came on board after she left, speaking only in Italian to him. His posture changed once his mother left, becoming much more intimidating once again. He must care for his mother.
He took my arm, the one without an injury, and led me off the plane and into another limousine. I must've looked visually cautious as he stopped.
"Por favore." He sighed. "We're going back to the house. I can't be dealing with you refusing at the moment, it would get nasty." He warned.
"You can't run." I said, and before he could stop me, I took off.
I sprinted past the limo and along the airstrip we'd just landed on. I turned behind me to see if he was following, but he wasn't, only on the phone. When I turned back around again I screamed, almost being run over by a black and tinted out hatchback car who drove straight past, presumably to Lorenzo.
My breathing became rasp as I cut across the grass, towards the buildings of the airport. It was quiet, having only been disturbed by our arrival and the car park was empty. I noticed a small shed and ducked behind it, peering back to where I'd just come from. The car was gone, disappeared. The hairs on the the back of my neck stood on end at the unmistakable sound of a guns safety being removed. I turned slowly to see Lorenzo looked hurt...and angry, extremely angry.
I ran back around the shed and aimed for anither smaller building when one of his men tackled me to the side. I hit the ground with a thud and rolled back over to get up, being stopped by a large weight on my stomach. I blinked to see Lorenzo sat on him, holding me down. He was angry. I was dead.
"Don't you ever run again, comprende?"
I didn't reply, and just watched him. He looked angry, but he didn't sound it. His voice was almost shaky. He was hurt, not just physically, but emotionally too.
I nodded slowly and he climbed off me with the help of one of his men. He was either in too much pain to get up himself or was worried he'd fall and hurt me. Which ever it was, he also instructed the man to help me, which he did, leading me to Lorenzo. He must've called over the limo because it parked behind the black car. The driver got out to open the door for us but Lorenzo opened it himself, allowing me in first. I sat down nearest the drivers cabin, away from where he normally sat. However he had separate ideas, sitting beside me.
When the car began to move he turned to face me, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. I flinched naturally.
"Dolce cuore." He said, sighing and looking down for a moment. When he looked back up his eyes seemed to be smiling. His hand slid from my ear to my cheek, cupping my face on one side. As he moved his body closer, I stayed absolutely still in case one move would send a bullet through my skull. He looked fragile after all.
He tilted his face to the left and leant in, brushing his lips on mine. I gasped with surprise, locking eyes with him, as he locked lips with me.