Not Juliet (7 page)

Riella searched
for the right pastry and picked it up to examine it better.

“Orazio swears
any aftereffects of alcohol overindulgence would be nullified by
eating that one. It’s lemon flavored. I hope you’ll like it.”

Riella took a
bite. Mmmm. “Nice,” she said aloud, nodding at the phone. Then she
caught herself and sighed, shaking her head. The alcohol
overindulgence certainly had strange effects on her. She put the
pastry down for a minute, just long enough to pour herself a
coffee, then picked it up again. Orazio had been right. Her
incipient headache had almost disappeared.

Smiling, she
blew a kiss to the phone and walked toward the balcony. It was
going to be a gorgeous sunny day. All of a sudden, Riella was
filled with a new zest for life – today was going to be a wonderful
day; she knew it.

“I’ll let you
get ready now, beautiful,” Luca said, through his recording. “I’ll
come and pick you up about ten. Is that giving you enough time?
Wear something light, and sensible shoes. It’s gonna be a hot day.
And keep this phone on you so I can find you easier.”

Riella turned
and gave a mock salute to Luca’s face on the phone’s screen, then
turned to watch Rome awake as she sipped her coffee.

Two more of
Orazio’s pastries and another cup of coffee later, Riella had
formulated a plan. It was still early, so, instead of sitting
pretty, waiting for her Romeo to come to her, she would get ready
and go out to explore for an hour. Maybe she could fit in a quick
visit to the gypsy camp, and ask a few more questions.

Vaguely, she
wondered whether Luca would help her find Anziano, if she explained
her predicament. She was almost certain he would understand. After
all, if he hadn’t given up on her after her awkward striptease and
then throwing up on him – and it seemed he hadn’t, or he wouldn’t
have gone through all the trouble of organizing breakfast for her,
and the recorded message – then… she still had hope.

Yes, she would
talk to him as soon as he showed up.

Smiling, Riella
sauntered to the bathroom to get ready.

The wind caught her
rolled-down window and fluttered the folds of her flower-print
sundress, bringing goosebumps to her skin and cheer to her mood.
Riella felt happy and alive, and much more hopeful than she had
only twenty-four hours ago. Her tennis shoe-clad feet couldn’t stop
bouncing.

The cab turned
another street corner, and now they travelled down a less
salubrious neighborhood. It didn’t dent Riella’s good humor. She
felt certain today would bring about a positive lead to Anziano.
She’d find him, talk to him, and then spend the rest of her day
playing Juliet to her Romeo, letting him kiss her in every square
mile – or inch – in Rome, or Italy, or the world. Nothing would
make her happier.

The cab stopped
at the end of a badly maintained road bordered by rough wasteland.
He pointed to the entrance of the campsite, about half a mile away,
eyeing her dubiously, but he took his money with a grunt of thanks,
then peeled out leaving Riella standing on the side of the road,
feeling a little more uncomfortable, and more uncertain, than she’d
felt five minutes earlier.

All the way to
the camp’s entrance, she chewed on her cheek, thinking of the best
way of approach. Romanies were suspicious of any interference from
strangers, and she had to remind herself that, to them, she was a
stranger.

Her coloring
wasn’t helping either. While her skin had inherited the usual
darker olive tone from her father, it was slightly lighter than
most, as was her caramel-color hair, which she got from her mother.
She spoke Romany, so that had helped a bit – obviously not enough
to get her that meeting with Anziano she so badly needed.

The first elder
she spoke to shrugged his shoulders and looked over her head, at
nothing in particular. The second did the same. Another turned away
and entered his trailer, slamming his door behind him. On and on
Riella walked, asking everyone who cared to listen. After a while,
she realized she had collected a cloud of onlookers who were
following her everywhere. Mostly kids, though some were definitely
old enough to be worth keeping a wary eye on.

One of the
smaller boys’ hand touched her hair. She drew away, disturbed but
trying to act cool. Then another pulled the ties of her backpack. A
little girl tugged the skirt of her dress and yet another grabbed
her hand. Riella gasped and backed away wildly, a gesture which was
basically body language for ‘I’m scared shitless’. She knew she
shouldn’t have done it at the same time they started laughing. The
bigger kids egged the younger ones on, hands stretching, fingers
pointing, insolent smirks on their faces twisting, mocking her,
driving her mad.

She was ready
to turn around and run away, all the way back to her hotel if
necessary – not that she had any idea where that was – just to get
away from there. Suddenly, a sharp voice cut through the cackles
and the kids scattered like a flock of sparrows that spotted a
circling hawk.

Riella searched
for her savior to thank him, and her eyes alighted on Zamir’s cocky
grin. One of his shoulders seemed bigger than the other, plumper,
as if it had been bandaged underneath his t-shirt.

“Zamir! What
are you doing here?”

“Same thing as
you, princess. Same thing as you.” He glanced over his shoulder at
the retreating children.

“What happened
to your shoulder? Are you hurt?”

“Nothing to
worry about. Just a drunken scrap.”

“Does my father
know you’re here?”

His expression
turned scornful. “Whaddaya think?”

She knew it.
The king’s advisers only left him at his specific instruction,
especially when he so badly needed their support. Why had Zamir
disregarded the rules?

“Yesterday, in
Florence…”

“I got your
back. Don’t worry. I got you.”

Riella nodded.
That meant he must have been there, in the alley, saving her life
from the rogue shooter. As he was helping her now. She forced
herself to focus on the task in hand.

“Listen, I’ve
been trying to get to Cosimo Anziano so I can explain what’s going
on and buy my father a bit of time. Do you have any idea where he
is?”

“He’s not the
guy you need. Cosimo Anziano retired and left his son in charge.
I’m pretty sure he’s on site right now. You want me to go and find
him?”

“I’ll come with
you.”

“No.” Zamir’s
voice was sharp and forceful, leaving no room for quarrel. “You
know what men can be like, Romany and Italian men in particular.
The embodiment of unreasonable macho behavior. No, you go wait over
there. See that tent, by the new development?”

Riella looked
to where he was pointing. At the far edge of the field she could
see a couple of bulldozers and a tent-like construction that looked
like canvas stretched over an old gazebo frame. They must have been
readying the land for more trailers, or something. The place looked
deserted for the moment. She nodded.

“Go wait in the
tent, and I’ll bring the king to you.”

She nodded
again, thanking Zamir for his help. Whatever had taken him away
from England, she was happy he was here now, and on her side. More
in control of her emotions, she walked at a fast pace to the tent
on the building site.

Twenty minutes
of waiting later, she heard the sound of engines turning over.
People were starting work. About time, she thought, peeking through
the tent flap to see one of the bulldozers roll away from her. She
glanced back to the camp, but no one was walking over – no king,
and no Zamir. She slipped back into the shaded cool of the tent,
thinking she’d give them ten more minutes, then, if they still
hadn’t shown up, she’d go back to camp, braving any number of herds
of hostile children, and scream at the top of her lungs until
someone gave her what she wanted.

Riella sat down
on a mat, waiting patiently, listening to the rumble of engines
working the land. The second one had started up now, and sounded
like it was moving away to join the first.

Her thoughts
drifted back to her father, and the effort he’d put into acquiring
and building solid camps for those who had tired of a life on the
road and would rather settle down. He’d brokered a deal with the
local authority responsible for public welfare to help integrate
the youngsters into apprenticeship programs and provide his people
with medical care. Of course, there was much more to do; since
she’d left the camp and moved into town, she’d done all she could
to enlighten her father and his advisors, and help improve the
living conditions on site.

Not everyone
appreciated her efforts, of course, but she was prepared for a
small amount of negative comeback. Most saw her as an interfering
bitch at best, or worse – a deserter. Still, she was not going to
change for anyone. Help, yes. Change, to conform, to fit in a neat
little box, never.

Those
bulldozers were making a lot of noise, she thought of a sudden.
Then again, it wasn’t like she had a lot of experience with heavy
machinery. She pulled her bag off her shoulders to check Luca’s
phone for messages. It was long past ten, but he hadn’t called yet.
His face was smiling at her from the screen, but there were no
missed calls and no messages. She frowned, wondering why he hadn’t
tried to contact her. Was he at the hotel, thinking she’d stood him
up?

Before she
could take that thought to a conclusion, the back of the tent
ripped open and Luca’s worried face peeked in. Riella smiled,
relieved, but he didn’t. He looped an arm around her middle and
whipped her out the same way he’d come in, and didn’t put her down
until they were twenty feet away, around the side of the tent.

In the next
second, Riella watched one of the diggers motor through the
entrance to the tent, flattening it all to smithereens. The frame,
the few spindly chairs and tools inside, the canvas – all was
broken and churned into the muddy ground.

Her bag, too,
and Luca’s phone. She’d dropped them when he’d yanked her away.

Before she
could open her mouth to complain about his rough handling, Luca
whipped her into his arms and launched them both sideways. The
second bulldozer sped past them at right angles to the first,
crushing the already-broken tent pieces under its heavy tread.

“What is going
on?” she shouted over the racket.

Luca didn’t
answer. His gaze was fixed on the cab of the second bulldozer. He
let go of her and skipped after the machine, jostled up on the step
and pulled the cab door open. A few seconds later, Riella detected
a change in the engine sound, and the bulldozer slowed to a stop.
The first bulldozer had slipped nose-first into a ditch and was
going no farther.

Luca jumped
down from the cab and ran to her side. “That was no accident. Come
on.” He tugged her by the hand, but she resisted.

“My bag is
under all that.” Riella pointed at the minced remains of the tent.
“And so is your phone.”

Luca sighed,
but let go of her hand and sprinted over to rummage through the
debris. He pulled at a few scraps, then his arm shot up, her bag
muddy but relatively undamaged clasped in his hand.

“Thank you.
What about your phone?”

Luca shrugged.
“Write-off.”

“Oh, no!”
Riella covered her mouth with her hand, but still couldn’t hold
back a sob.

Luca pulled her
face into his hand. “Hey! You’re not crying because of the stupid
phone, are you?”

Riella
hiccupped through her tears and shook her head.

“What
then?”

“I loved seeing
that smile on your face. And that silly recording.” She smiled
shyly, wiping the tears away. “But I’ve got you in the flesh, so I
guess you’ll just have to take another selfie.”

“Deal. And this
time, you can smile right alongside me.”

He gave her a
quick kiss, making her heart speed up and cheeks blush, then pulled
her toward the camp’s entrance. On the way, they passed a few men
who were running to the scene of destruction. They scowled at
Riella as they ran, but Luca didn’t even look their way. His arm
felt strong around her middle, and for that, Riella was
grateful.

Riella didn’t remember
her purpose until Luca had her seated and strapped into his
Bugatti. Then the questions began.

“How did you
find me?”

“Phone
tracker.”

“Oh,” she said,
her rosebud lips making him want to pounce on her right there and
then.

His first
priority was to get her away from there, however, so he suppressed
his needs and stepped on it.

“So what
exactly happened back there? Were the bulldozer drivers hurt? I
mean, I heard of people having heart attacks at the wheel, and
then… poof… the machine goes insane, razing everything in sight.
But two at the same time… that’s a hell of a coincidence.”

“That was no
accident, Riella. There were no drivers. The controls were jammed
on. If I hadn’t found you when I did…” He left the sentence
unfinished, his jaw working to control the unwanted images that
still formed in his mind.

Riella
shuddered in his peripheral vision and locked her arms across her
middle. Luca sighed and reached for her hand. She let him take it
and turned in her seat to look at him square-on. Her eyes found
his.

“Thank
you.”

He could see
the enormity of her situation was beginning to dawn on her, or at
least he was hoping it did. They were out of Rome now, and on the
way to his villa on the Tuscan coast, his corner of paradise, right
opposite Elba.

“What do you
have to thank me for?”

“For
everything. For saving me, and for this morning – you were right
about Orazio’s pastries, by the way – and for last night.” She
frowned at that last statement. “About last night…” she
started.