Tangled in the Mafia’s Web

Episode Thirty-six

Leandro emerged from the luxurious depths of his sleek SUV, his presence a dark enigma as he stepped out of the plush backseat. Alonzo remained in the car, silently watching as Leandro stepped out. With a calculated stride, the imposing figure of the mafia boss advanced towards the entrance, his grip lose around a black paper shopping bag.

Approaching the elevator, Leandro's purposeful stride faltered as his cell phone erupted with urgency, shattering the tranquil ambiance. With a graceful flourish, he retrieved the device from his long coat pocket.

Balancing the call's weight with consummate ease, Leandro stepped into the elevator just as its doors obediently yielded to his commanding presence. And just as he stepped in, he answered the call, bringing the phone to his ear with measured composure.

“Hello, Giovanni," Leandro's voice resonated with a timbre that commanded attention, weaving a tapestry of familiarity and respect.

“Tell me,” he continued after the traditional words of the man came through, his words carrying the weight of camaraderie and mutual understanding, "What good news is it for me?"

Giovanni's voice flowed through the line, a river of confidence and reliability. He revealed that the coveted package was on its way, promising its arrival within a week. A faint nod danced across Leandro's visage, a gesture of acknowledgment and gratitude, as he expressed his appreciation.

“Thank you, Giovanni," Leandro replied, his voice a velvet whisper. "I shall pay you a visit soon, and we shall savor the pleasures of good wine."

A faint chuckle emanated from the other end of the line, Giovanni's mirthful tone tinged with anticipation. He boasted of a new vintage, a wine destined to surpass all expectations. Leandro, ever the connoisseur, replied with a measured tone, his words laden with respect.

"I expected nothing less from you, my dear friend," Leandro confessed, his admiration woven into each syllable. If there was one man he trusted in his allies, it was Giovanni, because he was a man of tradition and never goes back on his words.

That is very hard to find in his line of work.

As the call reached its crescendo and drew to a close, Leandro stepped out of the elevator, resuming his deliberate stride down the polished hallway. His footsteps echoed faintly with a purposeful rhythm, leading him to a halt before Ginevra's apartment.

Leandro pressed the bell and waited. Moments slipped by for a while until the door finally swung open. Ginevra stood there, a flicker of surprise dancing in her eyes as she beheld the unexpected visitor before her.

Although she was fully dressed in dark green nightwear, her hair appeared damp like she had gotten off the shower just some moments back.

For a timeless moment, their gazes locked in an intricate dance, her heart may have skipped at the sight of those familiar green eyes but she remained still, a wordless conversation etched upon her face.

The query of his visit was the most reverberating one. Coming at her like some haunting dream.

Leandro's voice, serene yet commanding, pierced the silence, immediately shattering the enchantment that held them captive.

"And when shall you invite me in?" his words flowed like a river of suspense, carrying a faint undercurrent of longing and impatient. Yet they sounded much of a low firm authoritative inquiries.

Ginevra blinked, her demeanor shifting as she stepped aside, allowing him passage. Not a syllable escaped her lips, but her eyes spoke volumes, tracing his every movement as he crossed the threshold.

His unannounced visit was characteristic of his nature, always catching Ginevra off guard. However, luck seemed to have smiled upon her today as she had arrived home before his unexpected arrival.

Just as Leandro entered, he turned, his hand gracefully extended, presenting the black paper shopping bag as a silent tribute.

With a hint of skepticism, she accepted the offering, her fingertips delicately exploring the texture of the bag's surface.

Leandro gazes steadfastly ahead, and then, he revealed the nature of the package with a voice as crisp as winter's chill. “A gift," he intoned, the word carrying an air of enigma. Without breaking stride, he added, "You can look through it once I leave.”

And just then, he turned away, his steps measured, leading him towards the familiar corner of the kitchen. Like a symphony playing on repeat, he steered the space with deft ease. Drawing open the refrigerator door, he retrieved a bottle of drink, the whiskey inside remaining close to finishing, then he reached for a glass.

As the amber liquid cascaded into the waiting glass, Leandro's voice, a velvety caress, reached her ears, eroding any trepidation that lingered within her.

“The cameras," he whispered, his words a soothing balm. "They have all been disconnected.” With a poised sip, he savored the taste of his drink, allowing the moment to linger. “Alonzo will come later to get them off.”

Curiosity tinged with disbelief flickered in Ginevra's eyes as she voiced her question, her voice laced with a hint of skepticism. “But why? Why do you care now?”

She needed to know, because one moment he doesn't trust her, and the next– he is all understanding.

Leandro's gaze, intense yet tempered with cognition, lifted from the rim of the glass as he took another measured sip. A smile, enigmatic yet laced with understanding, graced his lips.

“Is it not what you wanted?” he countered, his voice a murmur that carried the weight of unspoken appetites. "Freedom from the ever-vigilant eyes that once stifled your every breath?" His brows raised just so ghostly.

He watched her and Ginevra for some reason remained silent.

“I want to trust you, Ginevra.” Leandro voiced, low and gently like never before, his green eyes holding hers– wanting her to believe him.

Ginevra was about to respond to Leandro's enigmatic statement before the sound of Chiara's voice resonated through the room, seemingly emerging from the bathroom. Startled, Ginevra turned her head towards the direction of the bedroom, her gaze momentarily shifting away from Leandro.

“I heard the doorbell," Chiara said, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity as she stepped out of the room wearing a bathrobe. Her eyes flickered between Ginevra and Leandro, sensing the tension in the air and the unexpected visitor standing before her.

Ginevra's surprise was mirrored in her eyes as she glanced at Chiara, momentarily at a loss for words. Since Leandro’s presence, she seemed to have forgotten she wasn't alone. Momentarily she struggled to find an explanation for the presence of Leandro in her apartment since it wasn't like Chiara already met him in person to know who he was.

Finally, Ginevra found her voice, her words tinged with uncertainty. "Uh, Chiara, this is... Leandro. He's a... friend." She chose her words carefully and quickly, her eyes darting briefly towards Leandro, a silent plea for understanding. It wasn't like Chiara would believe such but at least she needed to make it look so.

“And,” She twitched her mouth. “Meet my friend, Chiara.” She said to Leandro who didn't seem bothered about the situation.

Chiara's eyebrows furrowed slightly and then brightened, a mixture of surprise and curiosity etched on her face.

Breaking the silence, Leandro's voice resonated with a calm authority. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Chiara," he said, his voice carrying a hint of formality. "You–”

Ginevra forced a smile, immediately cutting him off before he could finalize his words. “Actually, Chiara, Leandro and I were just about to go out for a little while," she said, her voice betraying a hint of urgency.

Leandro smirked faintly, his eyes glinting with amusement behind the glass as he took a final sip from it, emptying its contents into his mouth, and then, he set the glass down with a deliberate clink.

Sensing the tension in the air, Chiara smiled skeptically at Ginevra's rushed explanation. "Ah, I see," she replied, her voice laced with trinket. "Well, it was nice to meet you, Leandro. Hope to see you again sometime." Her words carried a subtle undercurrent of skepticism, as she had sensed there was more to the situation than met the eye.

Leandro's enigmatic smile deepened as he inclined his head slightly towards Chiara. "Likewise, Chiara," he responded, his voice suddenly carrying a touch of warmth. "The pleasure is all mine." With those words, he turned his attention back to Ginevra, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he started to move toward the door.

As they stepped out of the building, Leandro's gaze fixed on Ginevra, his voice soft yet deliberate. "Have you had dinner yet?" he asked, a note of curiosity coloring his words, like he wanted to invite her for one.

“Yes, I have,” Ginevra muttered though she couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret at the truth behind that.

Leandro's expression remained unchanged as he absorbed her answer. He nodded in understanding, accepting her response without pressing further. "I see," he said, his tone neutral. “You should return inside, there is no need to leave your friend waiting.” He said and then turned to face her, his expression relaxed.

He just watched her for a while. “I will see you tomorrow.” He said calmly, his eyes not leaving hers.

The thought of his odd attitude made her wonder about the reason behind them. She was only seeing him since after the incident with Gerardo and now he act like none of them happened, or perhaps it was just his way of finding out more.

But still, she just nodded, the look on his face when he held her to the wall was still very visible in her mind, and not now does she want to experience that again. At least not until she gets what she wanted.

“Sure.”