Page 58 of A Mafia's Treasure

Chapter43

Frankie

Stepping into his joggers, I roll the waistband up a few times so I don’t lose them on the way out. His T-shirt is quite baggy but as I look in the mirror, I tie a knot at the side showing off my midsection.

That should do it!

I eye the cabinet and wonder if I should go snooping, but I need to get ready.IfI do walk out of here today, I at least want to look half decent.

Opening the cabinet, I spot a single toothbrush which must be his, but I don’t have any other option right now. So, I brush my teeth while continuing to snoop around, locating a hairbrush. I spit into the sink and rinse my mouth, then run the brush through my wet, tangled hair.

Thankfully one of us is prepared as I eye some hair ties on the shelf, all neatly sitting in a container, so I grab one and put my hair in a messy bun, then put everything back inalmostthe right place.

As I descend the old staircase, my hand glides along the polished dark wood. I have no idea where I am going but spot Marco talking to someone outside the makeshift hospital room.

“Hey, where’s the sun deck?” I ask as I look at them both.

He sneers at me and comes forward. “You know Tony is in there because of you, don’t you?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s in there because he lied, a lie I told him he should come clean about at the very beginning.” I point my finger at him. “I also had no fucking idea who Nicolas was either,” I say folding my arms around me.

“Shit!” he says as he runs his hands through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m pissed at this whole situation,” he tells me as he sits on the chair outside the door. “It’s not on you.” His head dips.

I feel for the guy, I do, but only Tony can take responsibility for what he’s done. Am I happy he’s alive … sure, should he have told the truth, abso-fucking-lutley.

“Forget about it,” I tell him. “So … the sun deck?” I smile at him, changing the subject.

“Down the hallway and through the double doors, then go through the lounge room and you’ll see the patio doors, they should be open,” he tells me. “Nico is waiting for you,” he adds with a small smile.

“Thanks,” I say, looking down the long, dark hallway. This place is really quite old and a little creepy. I wonder why it hasn’t been updated like the master room.

Shrugging away my thoughts, I make my way down the creepy hallway, through the double doors and enter the lounge room, and I am not surprised to see that carpet! Jeeze, someone really needs to do something about that, but somehow, it works against all the dark oak furniture and big oil paintings and portraits on the walls.

I see the patio doors, that are open, and the warm breeze is welcoming. The sound of the birds is calming but strange considering I don’t recall ever hearing them this clearly in New York before, maybe it’s because there’s always other noises that drown them out but either way, I like it.

My bare feet sink into the patterned carpet as I follow the beautiful sounds of the birds to the sun deck and stand at the doorway. Looking out, I see Nicolas sitting there reading this morning's paper, like a normal person, and it seems bizarre, unnatural but familiar, almost as if I’ve been here for years, like it’s all very familiar to me.

“Hey,” I say as I pull the metal chair out, dragging it across the floor, causing it to squeak, which makes all the birds fly out from the lush green trees in the garden.

I frown as I watch them fly away. I was looking forward to sitting here listening to their song and hopefully avoiding this odd situation I’ve found myself in.

“Coffee?” he asks as he’s pouring his own. I shake my head.

“Water is fine, thanks.” I smile.

He pushes some pastries toward me. “Eat.”

I screw up my face and look at him. “I’m not hungry. I’d prefer we get this over with. I actually have to get back, and I need to pack,” I tell him.

“Oh good, something you won’t be fighting me on.” He smiles.

What an ass!

“I guess not.” I cross my arms . “I assumed with Tony out, and now you know who I am, you wouldn’t want me working for you, so I booked the red eye from Newark.”

He slams his coffee cup down onto the table, causing the contents to spill over.

“Oh, I don’t fucking think so.” He laughs and leans forward. “The only place you’ll be taking that packed bag of yours is back here, toourbedroom,” he snarls.

---