15. Cole

-speak softly-

(Italian version)

“I’ll think about it,” I said slowly. I already knew I was going to refuse, but I had to consider carefully how I did it.

“This was actually your father’s idea,” the Don interjected softly. He had scented victory and his eyes glittered like a rat’s.

I shook my head at my own naivety. Of course, it was my father’s idea. He was willing to sacrifice his own son to save himself.

He smiled cunningly. “You will be a father soon, I hear. God has blessed you with a daughter.”

My blood ran cold. Very few people knew the sex of my child. I recognized his statement for what it was. A threat. In exactly the same way he advised people not to worry because he was a nice guy before he slaughtered them.

“Yes. A blessing it is,” I agreed, trying not to show the fear churning inside me.

“Perhaps you might want to see this … venture I’m offering … as an opportunity that will pay handsomely,” he said persuasively. “As an occasion to use the gains to build an education fund for your daughter if she turns out to be as smart as you.”

He believed I needed his blood money to educate my daughter. He’d be very astonished to know I was already many times richer than him, and in a few years, I would be worth billions. Many years ago, while I was still in school, I secretly bought as many Bitcoins as I could.

To me, it was a no-brainer.

The coding was perfect and the scarcity factor was even more amazing. There would only ever be twenty-one million coins. I understood immediately that there had never been an asset like it, and probably never another one like it in my lifetime. I was willing to bet everything I had on it. I borrowed money from anyone who would lend it to me and bought twenty thousand coins at the price of nine cents each. I’d been buying more ever since and my secret stash was now pretty impressive.

But that money was of little use to me now. He wanted me to work for him and he was unsubtly telling me if I didn’t, he was willing to hurt my unborn child. I felt trapped, furious, and impotent. I hated being in that helpless position, but there was nothing I could do.

Not at that moment, anyway.

He was a dangerous, duplicitous snake, but even a King Cobra had its enemies. In seventy-five to eighty percent of the fights between Cobras and mongooses, the venom-immune, fast-moving creature darted at the snake with Ninja-like speed, forcing the reptile to repeatedly strike at it until the snake was completely exhausted. Then the little hero crushed the cobra’s head in its jaws.

By asking me to move his money he was allowing me to make many little strikes and get close to his most vulnerable parts. Once I was inside his books, I would forever have the means of destroying him, and I would be able to do it without him ever suspecting I’d done it.

“Fine. I will work for you.”

He smiled victoriously. “Bravo, Luca. I always knew you were a smart kid. You’ve just made a wise decision.”

Yes, good. Keep thinking of me as if I was still the kid by the swimming pool.

“I will work for you until my father is released, but after that, I never want to see you again.” Even as I said the words, I already knew it would never be over with him. He would never let me go. I would have to find my own way out.

“Of course,” he agreed slickly.

I opened the car door and stepped out.

I would be trapped for seven years, but after that no matter what I would make sure I set things up in such a way I would free myself.

And so I worked for him and I laid the groundwork. Six years passed. Then one year before my father was to be set free, Paganini, the snake that he was, changed the rules of the game. He seduced my bored wife into an affair. Poor Arianna thought she was leaving me for a very wealthy man. She didn’t know the Bitcoin I bought all those years ago for nine cents each was already worth more than fifty thousand dollars each and I was a billionaire.

I knew he didn’t really want her, but he thought taking my wife would drive me crazy and inspire me to do something stupid that could further consolidate his control over me.

He had miscalculated badly.

I wasn’t jealous and furious at all. I knew exactly why he had done it, and I didn’t blame Arianna either. How could I? She was an unhappy woman. She knew I didn’t love her, never had. I only married her because she’d tricked me into it by becoming pregnant with my child.

Ours was a loveless marriage and if it had been any other man I would have been happy for her, but I knew she would quickly find out Paganini was not the charming wealthy gentleman he had obviously portrayed himself to be to her … and then she would want to come back. And when she did, Paganini would take that as a sign of intolerable disrespect requiring harsh punishment. In his eyes, the only fitting punishment would be my daughter or me working for him for the rest of his lifetime.

I knew I had less than six months before the magic wore off and Arianna came crawling back. I immediately laid new plans to prepare myself for that day. My plan was to take my daughter and disappear without a trace. That would give me time to carry on working on my long-term plans to destroy Paganini in such a way that it would not implicate me.

That was three months ago.

As things stood right now, I was nearly ready to move my daughter and me out of harm’s way, but Paganini was not to be underestimated. He was not the head of his organization by accident. For now, there could be no thoughts of a woman clouding my judgement. Not even of a beauty called Montana. I needed all my wits about me to survive the next few months. The sooner I put thoughts of her out of my mind the better.

I closed the window and went back towards the bed. She had left her scent behind on the sheets. Her tantalizing perfume swirled around me. I switched on a light and saw the slip of paper she had left behind. I picked it up and looked at it. She had hastily written her number and drawn a love heart next to it.

Ah, Montana!

I would never forget her. She was the girl who thought life was a precious gift. I’d rather die than drag her into my nightmare and give Paganini another means of hurting me. Before my brain could automatically imprint the numbers into my mental database, before I could change my mind, I tore the piece of paper into tiny fragments.

Then I dressed quickly and moved towards the door. At the door, I hesitated. The desire to fling one last look at the bed was overwhelming. I didn’t give in. I turned the handle and walked out. I went downstairs, where the night porter, a middle-aged man, was minding the reception desk.

“Can I help you, Sir?” he asked politely.

“Yes. I need to return to New York. Could you call me a taxi please?”

“At this time of the morning? I’ll have to get someone out of their warm bed, it won’t be easy,” he warned doubtfully.

“Make some calls. I’d be willing to pay five hundred dollars for the trip. Cash.”

His eyes widened. “Name is Maxwell, and I do declare I could get someone to jump out of bed for that.”

“Good. Can I get a drink while I wait, Maxwell?” I pushed a hundred-dollar bill towards him.

Beaming from ear to ear, he slipped the note into his pocket. “If you follow me, Sir, I’ll open the bar for you.”

I waited while he found the keys and opened the double doors. My shoes were loud on the bare wooden floors. Maxwell switched on the lights in the bar area. I glanced around and the bar looked and felt like a completely different place without people in it. A sad shadow of its earlier glory. It was the way I felt.

“What’ll you have?” he asked from the other side of the bar.

“Whiskey, neat.”

He splashed a generous amount into a glass and pushed it towards me.

I slid another hundred-dollar bill out to him. “Leave the bottle.”