The Prince of Chicago

Chapter 9

Isabelle

The next morning, I woke up to a short, matronly woman opening the curtains in my room and letting the day’s sunlight in. Squinting, I sat up in bed and looked over at her. She was wearing a black dress, black tights, and black loafer shoes, and her white hair was coiffed neatly into some sort of beehive-style hairdo straight out of the 1960’s. She looked like the human equivalent of Mrs. Potts from Beauty and the Beast.

“Good morning, dear!” the woman said, extremely chipper for the early hour. “I’m Rose, I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Morning,” I croaked, sleep still in my voice. I let out a big yawn.

“Not much of a morning person, huh?” she responded, walking over and seating herself on the edge of my bed. “Well, breakfast will be ready in half an hour, do you drink coffee? I can send some up if you want some help getting moving.” She gave me a quick wink.

“I’d love a cup of green tea with honey, if you have that,” I replied, smiling. She nodded and got up, making her way toward the door.

“Tea will be up in a moment, and I’ll come get you when breakfast is ready.” She slipped out the door after that, leaving me to put myself together.

Fighting the urge to lay back down and fall into a deep slumber, I slid out of the warm sanctuary under my covers and shuddered as my feet hit the cold wood flooring.

“If Angelo really wanted to make me feel comfortable, he would’ve given me a bedroom with carpet,” I said to myself. I tip-toed over to the bathroom, stopping to assess myself in the mirror. After Angelo had left last night, I was finally able to shower, wash my face, and change out of those ridiculous club clothes.

As my reflection stared back at me, it was like looking at the face of someone I once knew. I recognized her, but she was different from the person I was just a few days ago, before I was caught in the alley that night. Had I burst through that side door just one minute later, I probably wouldn’t be here. It’s funny how one little moment can alter your fate, just like that.

The sound of the bedroom doors opening startled me out of my trance. Peeking around the half open bathroom door, I saw someone placing a teacup on the vanity out in the bedroom.

“Thank you!” I called, but the woman who brought it was already halfway out the door. Turning back to the mirror, I brushed through my hair and twisted it up unto a claw clip. After a refreshing scrub at my face, I walked back out into the bedroom to retrieve my tea.

* * *

A knock on my door some time later had me rushing to get dressed for the day.

“Come in!” I shouted from the closet. I was struggling to decide what to wear. After all, Angelo had been extremely vague about what I’d actually be doing beyond ‘assistant work’. I’d begun to learn that vague was Angelo’s brand.

Rose let herself in and found me in the closet, still clad in a bathrobe and staring at the few items of clothes dotting the otherwise massive space.

“What do you think?” I asked her, hoping she may give me some more direction on what would be appropriate to wear.

“Well dear, Angelo is always in one of his suits for the work day,” she replied. “But I don’t think you need to worry about being that fancy,” she shot me a playful smile. She then walked over to one of the blouses hanging up - one that I had bought to wear for presentations in business school. “This would do nicely I think. Do you have any skirts?” Rose asked.

I walked over to one of the sets of drawers in the closet and pulled out a pair of black jeans.

“All of my skirts aren’t really, well, business appropriate,” I said, a little embarrassed. Rose seemed to be a very proper woman, and I could tell the clothing selection I had was definitely not impressing her. “This is the closest I have to dress pants. Do you think it’ll work?” I asked, a bit sheepish. I didn’t want to admit it, but I was nervous to start working today. I had no idea what to expect, and I was a bit on edge knowing I’d be spending so much time so close to Angelo. I knew I had to stay focused so I could scope the place out, and maybe come up with an escape plan, but it was all too easy to get distracted when I was near him.

“For now, dear, it’ll have to work,” she said. “But don’t you worry, I’ll be sure Angelo knows you need a few more things than just the toiletry items I’ll be picking up for you today. Now, get dressed and let’s get downstairs, breakfast is ready and we won’t want to keep Angelo waiting too long,” she said, letting herself out of the closet with a wink.

* * *

After dressing myself, I was led by Rose out of the bedroom and down a corridor. It was my first time leaving the room in three days, and also the first glimpse I was getting of the rest of the penthouse. It really was a gorgeous place. Everything was styled in the same manner as my bedroom, boasting deep mahogany floors and trimmings, warm beige walls with modern art canvases, and matching carpet lining the hall.

As we reached the end of the corridor, it opened up into what became a grand spiral staircase with a view of a massive combo kitchen-living space below. The kitchen was large and modern, with a full cooktop range, double oven setup, smart fridge, and beautiful marble countertops framed by an intricate tile-in backsplash. The living space had a very modern, and somewhat uncomfortable looking sectional couch that formed a U-shape, as well as a reading nook off to the side, built into the wall. The space boasted two-story high ceilings and was surrounded by floor-to ceiling windows, just like the ones in my bedroom. I realized as we approached the stairs that where I had been staying was on the furthest opposite end of the apartment from the rest of the living space. I made a mental note of this, maybe it would be helpful as I continued to scheme a way out.

I followed Rose as she descended the stairs in front of us, and noticed a suited-up Angelo sitting at one of the kitchen island barstools, adjusting his tie as he read the newspaper.

“You’re late,” he said flatly as we approached the kitchen area.

“Now, now,” Rose said in an almost chastising tone. “Our dear Isabelle has almost no clothing up there, what were you thinking?”

“What do you mean? I brought her what I could find in that shack of an apartment she was going to call home,” Angelo shot back. Rose gave him a look of distaste. I sunk into myself.

“This is no way for a lady to dress for work,” Rose replied, motioning over her shoulder to me. I began to feel self conscious as I felt Angelo’s eyes look me up and down.

“Really, it’s fine,” I said a bit hurriedly. “I don’t own many clothes anyway.” Rose raised her eyebrows, and Angelo sighed.

“Fine,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll take care of it.” Did he mean he was going to shop for me?

“Oh, well, Rose can just-”

“I said I’ll take care of it,” Angelo cut me off. Rose gave me a pointed look, as if to say ‘just let it go’. I stood for a moment longer, and then walked around where Angelo was seated and slid into one of the other stools at the island, leaving a space between Angelo and me.

“Good morning,” he said as Rose placed a plate in front of me. I looked over at him, a bit surprised at his casual tone.

“Good morning,” I responded. We ate in relative silence after that, with Rose double checking the list of items I was requesting from the store, and Angelo reading the newspaper as he ate. Once breakfast was done, Rose took our plates and began loading the dishwasher.

“Time to get to work,” Angelo said, getting up from his seat. I followed without responding as he advanced back toward a hallway past the stairs, underneath the second floor. As we walked away, I looked back to Rose, still in the kitchen. She gave me a warm smile and a slight nod. It was strange how comforting she could be without saying a single word; I had never met anyone like her. I smiled back, and then turned to continue with Angelo. Time for my first day working for the Chicago Outfit.