Chapter 24 Liar

"I came here for a part-time job, yes, just part-time," I found a suitable excuse for myself, "You know my father is a despicable gambler. He lost all his money, and I still have to pay my tuition fees. I can only do part-time work to earn money."

I feared Antonio wouldn't believe me, so I quickly sought proof. "You've seen the photos in my camera, right? There are many from my past part-time work. The job I took this time was to shoot a wedding in Philadelphia."

Antonio glanced at me sidelong. "I thought you just had to follow me, and money wouldn't be an issue," he seemed to imply that my job was superfluous. To him, my sporadic income was insufficient to escape his clutches despite a debt of $80 million. Antonio's gaze was piercing; it felt like he saw right through me, which wasn't good news. I needed to mask my expression to appear calm rather than guilty.

"I haven't," I shook my head in denial, "You can't deny my poverty. I need a job to support myself."

"You still don't realize your mistake, Sienna," Antonio looked at me disappointedly, his amber eyes clouding over with a gray tint, making him appear even more threatening. "You are my mistress. You don't need to work or earn money. I will arrange everything for you—apartment, clothes, bags, and a car. I will prepare everything you need."

"Earning money is not an excuse to escape. Tell me your real purpose for coming to Philadelphia."

I felt that Antonio was humiliating me. Yes, that's what he was doing.

"There's no other purpose, just to make money!" I said angrily, freeing my chin from Antonio's grasp. "I already agreed to be your mistress, and I will respect the contract, but you can't deprive me of my right to work." Those caged as playthings don't work; they live completely dependent on a man, losing themselves, losing freedom—but I refuse to become that.

My answer angered Antonio. Ignoring my protests and indifferent to the onlookers, he carried me straight out of the car and locked me in the hotel, not allowing me to go anywhere. The only consolation was he didn't take away my phone and personal belongings; I hadn't lost contact with the outside world.

I kept trying to contact my dad, but his phone was always off. I cursed, knowing he did it on purpose; he was avoiding me.

I irritably scratched my head. My ankle, swollen since the second day at the hotel, still hurt when I put weight on it, causing me to limp and not walk fast.

This must be why Antonio left me alone in the hotel; he became busy, and I hardly saw him return.

I now dared not contact my mom, worried she might attract Antonio's attention—the mafia isn't something ordinary families like ours should mess with. My life had been forcibly dragged into a whirlwind, and I just hoped my mom and Valentina wouldn't get involved.

On the third day at the hotel, Matteo came.

"What are you doing?" Matteo entered my room.

"Working on my thesis." I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling pain from staring at the computer all day. I needed a rest.

"Why don't you go out for a walk? The hotel has a rooftop garden, and the boss hasn't restricted your movements."

"Do you know why he hasn't restricted my movements?" I looked at him as if he were foolish, showing him my bandaged ankle.

"Wow!" Matteo exclaimed dramatically, "It looks like freshly baked bread!"

I gave him a pitying look, as if he were still a schoolchild. "Do you want a snack?"

"What snacks do you have? I'm very picky," he said, though his eager eyes betrayed his words. I silently scoffed to myself, almost laughing at my own thoughts.

I handed him a box filled with snacks, all brought by Vincent and prepared by Antonio—chips, Cheetos, jellies, chocolates, lollipops...

Had he thought of me as some snack-loving little girl?

"This hazelnut chocolate is really tasty," Matteo found a snack he liked, his eyes lighting up.

Hazelnut chocolate?

"This jelly is cherry-flavored and even has fruit pieces in it!"

Cherry jelly? I glanced at the snack box, which contained various flavors of jelly, indeed all brands I was accustomed to. My favorite cherry flavor was the most abundant, the chips were tomato-flavored, and the lollipops were apple-flavored...

How did he know I liked these?

Matteo noticed my confusion and shrugged. "We checked your online shopping records."

"What?!" I was outraged.

But as I sucked on an apple-flavored lollipop, I quickly adapted to this utter lack of privacy. I tappedaway at the keyboard, continuing to organize my thesis for graduation.

At dusk, Matteo borrowed a wheelchair from the hotel. "Let me take you to the rooftop garden for a walk, get some fresh air."

I refused, "I don't want to go, what's so good about the hotel's garden? Where did Antonio go? When is he coming back? Can you talk to him, and ask him to let me go?" I couldn't go on like this any longer, and I was afraid to contact my mom.

But if Dad had already reached Mom's place, and I kept being absent, she would definitely look for me.

What excuse would I use to not attend Valentina's wedding? How would I break free from Antonio's control and attend the wedding on my own?

Matteo scratched his head. "There are some good flowers in the garden, of course. This hotel has air-shipped many valuable flowers here, like Dutch tulips, French lavender, and British orchids..."

"I'm asking about Antonio!" I snapped impatiently.

"Well..." Matteo looked embarrassed, "He's very busy right now..."

"What exactly is he busy with?" I knew I shouldn't have asked; Antonio was mafia, what could he be busy with? He was probably busy with dealing, smuggling, committing crimes! These were things I wasn't supposed to know, but I couldn't help myself.

He had left me in the hotel for three days. I saw him the first night, but not after that—or maybe he had come and I didn't know—I might have been sleeping.

Anyway, I wanted to see Antonio, but I couldn't.

I wanted to leave this place, but without Antonio's permission, I couldn't.

I felt like a puppet suspended in midair, being manipulated, hanging neither here nor there, and it was unbearable!

I couldn't help but lose my temper. I wanted to grab my hair and scream wildly, hysterically, but Matteo wasn't the right person to vent my frustration on.

Oh, he was mafia, but he looked only seventeen, and they even recruited high school students these days—absolutely ruthless!

"I can't tell you, our boss's whereabouts are absolutely confidential," Matteo said seriously, "He's our boss, he has many enemies, and his enemies are always trying to find out where he is to set up an ambush to kill him. Keeping it secret is a way to protect him. I hope you understand, Miss Corsetti."

"Then call him!" I took a deep breath and said, "Tell him my part-time job is about to start, I need to get to work soon, I can't lose this job."

"I'm sorry, I can't get in touch..."

"You can!" I looked at him intensely, "Why do you insist on me going to the garden for a walk? This morning when I told you my foot hurt and I didn't want to go, you didn't think of borrowing a wheelchair from the hotel, why think of it now?"

I stared hard at Matteo. "Is this something Antonio told you to do?"