Three Steps Ahead
1289 Words
Alessio
She stood frozen on the pavement for exactly four seconds.
I knew because I counted.
Then she straightened her jacket, lifted her chin, and crossed the street like the choice had been hers all along.
She opened the car door and slid inside, her perfume immediately enveloping the space.
Up close, the hospital bracelet on her wrist was impossible to miss. It was made of cheap plastic. It was creased already, and the white edges were starting to yellow, showing she's been a long-term visitor.
She sat as far from me as possible, back pressed against the door.
"You found me fast," she said.
"I have competent employees."
"That's a fancy way of saying stalker."
"Stalking tested poorly with focus groups. We went with investigative outreach."
The corner of her mouth twitched slightly, but it disappeared immediately.
The car pulled into traffic and I let the silence stretch, waiting to see if she'll speaking.
Most people talked to kill the quiet, but not Aria.
She just watched the window with her eyes alert, carefully counting streets and cataloguing exits.
"You weren't on the Foundation guest list," I said finally.
"Maybe I had a really charming date."
"You arrived alone. In a car belonging to a shell company." I paused. "A company my father uses."
Nothing changed in her expression.
But her hands, resting in her lap, went perfectly still.
"Do you investigate everyone you meet," she asked, "or am I just lucky?"
"You're the first woman who's touched me in sixteen years without sending me to the ICU. It's only fair I investigate you.”
She looked at me for a moment, before averting her gaze.
"Fair point."
I watched her profile. Her eyes looked too tired like she hadn't slept in weeks, and her braids were pulled back too tight.
She looked like she has been surviving on coffee and determination.
"You were at Saint Mary's until six a.m.," I said. "Room 412. Carlo Salvi."
That got her.
She turned sharply. "You investigated my father?"
"I investigated you. He was attached to the search."
"It's the same thing, Alessio."
"Not to me."
Her jaw tightened.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"The truth."
She let out a dry laugh. "From a Moretti? That's rich."
"From the woman my father planted at my event."
Her expression flickered.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"My father doesn't do things without a motive, Aria. Neither do I."
The silence returned. Heavier this time.
"You think Vittorio sent me?" she asked.
"I know my father likes to pull strings. And I think you're hiding part of the story."
She looked down at the bracelet.
"My father is dying," she said quietly.
She didn't deny what I asked her.
"I know."
"And I don't have the money for the surgery. Not even close."
"I know that too."
She looked at me then. Her dark eyes were swirling with anger and I stared at her for a moment too long.
"You say that like you're reading weather reports."
"It's information."
"People aren't files, Alessio."
She said my name like we were standing on equal ground.
I hadn't realised how much I disliked being feared until she looked directly at me instead.
---
The car slowed at a red light. Grey morning light spilled through the windows.
"What happened last night matters a lot to me," I said.
"I noticed. You looked like you'd seen a ghost."
"In sixteen years, no one has touched me without consequences."
"And I did. Congratulations to me."
"Yes."
She looked back at the window. "I don't know why," she said quietly.
I believed her.
That was the problem.
"I watched your face," I said. "You were just as shocked as I was."
She went still, thinking.
"And that made you think I wasn't sent?" she asked.
"If you were sent by someone, especially my father, you would've been prepared for the reaction."
"Maybe I'm just a really good actress."
"Then you're wasting your time in hospitals."
There was another tiny flicker at the corner of her mouth.
I studied her again. She looked really exhausted and defensive, holding herself together through sheer refusal to fall apart.
I understood that better than most people would.
"Your father's surgery," I said. "I'll pay for it. In full."
She didn't gasp, didn't tear up.
She just blinked once, like she was processing the information.
Then her expression hardened.
"And there it is."
"There what is?"
"The catch."
"I just want answers."
"That sounds slightly less creepy than before."
"I want medical testing and observation. I need to understand why you're the exception." I paused. "And I want the truth about my father."
"And if I say no?" she asked.
"Then I have the driver turn around."
"And?"
"And your father runs out of time."
She looked away in silence, expression defeated.
Finally she spoke.
"You're a real piece of work, you know that?"
"So I've been told."
---
Aria
He said it so calmly.
Like he'd accepted years ago that he wasn't a good man and stopped apologising for it.
It should have made him easier to hate.
Instead it made him feel honest in a way most powerful men weren't.
Nadia's warning echoed in my head.
Be careful when you touch him.
Too late.
Vittorio's message followed right after.
Let him crave it.
Also too late.
Alessio Moretti looked at me like I was something more.
And my father needed surgery badly enough that I couldn't afford to care what that look meant.
"Fine," I said.
His eyes lifted to mine. "Fine meaning?"
"Fine meaning I'll do your tests."
He waited.
"But I want the legal paperwork for the surgery first. Signed before anything else."
"Done."
"And I want confirmation directly from the hospital board."
"Done."
He talked like he already knew I'd say yes eventually.
"You negotiate well when you're cornered," he noted.
"I grew up in a house where the lights got cut off regularly. You learn to negotiate fast."
Something shifted in his expression, gone before I could read a meaning to it.
---
"And when this is over?" I asked.
"You walk away debt free."
Men like him thought money fixed everything.
"Where are we going?" I asked.
"Breakfast."
"I'm being blackmailed into pancakes?"
"You haven't eaten. You're shaking."
My stomach growled at the exact worst moment.
I closed my eyes briefly.
"That was the car engine," I said.
"The car is electric."
"I hate you."
"Observational."
"Serial killer word."
For half a second, the corner of his mouth moved into a real almost-smile.
It changed his whole face, and my heart fluttered for a second.
I looked away first.
---
The car stopped outside a restaurant with no sign.
The driver opened my door and I stepped out into the cold morning air.
Alessio came around the car, looking tall and composed in a dark suit.
He came too close.
Then, slowly, deliberately, he reached for my hand.
His muscles tightened first, bracing for pain.
His fingers closed around mine carefully, but nothing happened.
His breath caught softly in disbelief.
"Still nothing," he said quietly.
The warmth spread through my palm instantly.
And then my head pulsed, and I saw a sudden vision.
A garden with white flowers.
A dark-eyed boy standing across from me.
The image was gone in a second.
I stumbled slightly, and Alessio grabbed me to prevent me from falling.
Across the street, a camera flash exploded.
Alessio's expression changed immediately.
His face became cold, sharp and dangerous.
His grip tightened around my hand.
"We need to go," he said.
But I barely heard him.
Because I recognized those eyes.
And the boy in the garden had recognized me too.
- Writer
