Indebted to the Mafia King
Close But Distant

Chloe

A faded commotion downstairs wakes me up, my mind taking a few seconds to adjust and understand where I am. It's been a few days since we moved to Vermont, but I still haven't gotten used to this place, or this bed, for that matter. The safehouse isn't uncomfortable at all, nor inconvenient, but no matter how hard I try, nothing makes me feel the same way I feel at Tony's house back in Staten Island. Which should also be considered my house now too, if he hadn't sent

me here.

I ponder going back to sleep, deciding whatever's going on downstairs is probably irrelevant. My mother must be giving orders to Tony's soldiers for groceries or something like that. Since she can't go out by herself, she'd rather ask them to do the chores for her.

But when I hear a familiar, deep voice, I get to my feet immediately. What is Armando doing here? Tony sent several men to watch us, but his second shouldn't be here, not when they're likely facing a war back in New York. Tiptoeing out of the room, I get to the top of the stairs, doing the best I can to stay hidden, hoping to eavesdrop on their conversation. Soon enough, I realize Armando's voice is distant and coming through the speaker of my mother's phone instead. Of course he wouldn't be here. But why is he calling my mom?

"Why does she need to go? Tony sent us here for a reason. It makes no sense he wants her to return now all of a sudden." She's arguing with him, not doing a good job at keeping her voice low-if hiding this from me is even her goal, which I assume it must be. She's usually trying to keep me in the dark, and I bet she knows more about what's going on than me.

"We need her help with something, Mrs. Bertolucci. And you don't need to worry. The guys will accompany her the entire time. It is safe, I can assure you," Armando tells her over the phone.

My mother sighs, and even though I can't see her face from up here, I can picture her rolling her eyes at her inability to do anything. She hates not having control, and I know she hates the fact Tony sent her here as well.

"Fine," she concedes. "I want reports about her by the hour, though. I won't stay here with a baby without knowing what's going on with my daughter," she argues, making sure her demand is taken into consideration. Or better yet, heeded. "I can guarantee you that," Armando agrees. "Rocco will take her to the airport where she will meet two guys who will fly with her."

"Okay, I'll get her to leave the house in thirty minutes," my mom informs him.

It bothers me immensely that I'm not involved in any of this at all. It's my life they're discussing, my steps they're deciding, and not once they ask about my opinion. I'm just informed of things as if I can't make decisions of my own or think by myself.

I'm also bitter because I haven't heard from Tony ever since I left New York, and I'm bored as hell inside this house, not being able to put my feet outside without being surrounded by guards.

I can't be selfish and complain about the precautions being taken to protect me and my family, but still, I can't help but sulk over my current situation.

Before I manage to return to my room, my mother shows up at the bottom of the stairs, looking surprised to find me here. It's obvious she knows I was listening, otherwise she wouldn't appear so guilty.

"Chloe, I didn't know you were up," she says, trying to sound casual.

I clench my teeth before answering her. "Thank you for letting me decide this for myself," I retort sarcastically.

She has the decency to appear remorseful. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. It's just for a few hours and you have to leave in thirty minutes, so please hurry up. I'm sure Tony must have a good reason. We just need to trust him."

"Of course," I manage to grumble.

I don't even have the strength to be mad at him for doing things his way. Why can't he just call me and ask me if I'm okay with whatever he is planning? Why can't he talk to me instead of ordering his second to call my mother to discuss the plans they have for me?

I turn on my heel, too pissed off to carry on with this conversation. Since I seem to have no authority or will of my own, it's better that I just do what I'm told. Arguing will take me nowhere.

I go back to my room, take a quick shower, and put on jeans, a white T-shirt, and a brown blazer. I pick white sneakers, deciding I don't want to risk wearing heels since I have no idea what I'll be up to during the day, and I don't want to be uncomfortable during the flight either.

Once I'm ready, I head over to the living room, finding Mom feeding Ellie while she puts on some cartoons to distract her. I'm still bitter by the time I say goodbye and head out of the house, finding Rocco already waiting for me in the car. I greet him with a low voice, hoping I don't sound rude. I know he's only following orders, and I don't want to be unfair by aiming my anger at him.

Something deep within me is anxious and hopeful that I will at least get to see Tony today, but I push that emotion down, back to the well it just crawled up from. He doesn't deserve my eagerness to see him. I'm supposed to be mad at him. I'm grateful, yes. He's taking care of us in his own way, but I can't help but wish he had dealt with this differently.

I wish he could have taken my opinion into consideration. That's what hurts me the most.

This and the fact that he rejected me. But I have no time for that right now.

The flight to New York ends up being more stressful than I anticipated. The hours seemed to be stuck, time frozen as we flew over the clouds. By the time we arrive and leave the airport, we are caught in a heavy downpour, the road ahead barely visible.

Since Rocco stayed back in Vermont, Tony assigned another driver to pick me up, one I've never met before. He takes a different road than what I'm used to, realizing Tony must have planned to have this meeting in a less risky territory. When I ask him where he is taking me, he simply ignores my question, his eyes focused on the world outside of this vehicle.

I lean back on my seat, crossing my arms and staring at the rain hitting the windows. I love rainy days, and the sound and smell of it, but right now, I can't even seem to be able to bask in it.

When the car stops in front of an old, shabby motel in a remote neighborhood close to Brooklyn, I narrow my eyes, my nails sinking into my palms as my driver guides me toward the entrance.

If I didn't know better, I'd say this is the last place on earth I'd walk into if I cared for my life. But I know this is part of Tony's plans, and since I heard Armando talking to my mom about it, I feel a bit more reassured.

A bit, but not enough to step inside the place without feeling like my heart is about to burst out of my chest. Why did Tony have to pick such a scary place to meet me?

"Room 802. Knock twice and go inside without waiting for an answer," the driver whispers to me before turning back to the car and leaving me by myself.

There's not even a receptionist by the front desk to greet me and show me the way. It feels like a freaking horror movie to walk through the hallways and take the elevator alone. I feel goosebumps shooting up my spine everytime the wooden floor cracks under me or the wind blows through a broken window.

I make a mental note to scold Tony about his choice of places. If he wanted to scare me, he got it just right.

Once I reach the eighth floor, I do as I was instructed, walking into the room right after the second knock. The room is dingy and dark, and my eyes take a second to adjust to the surroundings. Two men are standing at different sides of the room, one to my left and the other to my right.

I immediately recognize Tony, even in the darkness. His silhouette is slightly taller than the second guy, but my body is instantly drawn to him, and that's why I simply know it is him.

"Ah, there she is," the second man says with a thick Irish accent. As soon as he finishes the sentence, he turns on a dim light at the nightstand beside the bed, making it easier for me to see his face.

I've never seen him before. His stately nose and auburn hair are the first things that stand out to me. He has a funny expression on his face, his eyes darting between me and Tony while his lips curl up with amusement.

"Can't believe I'm finally meetin' the lass," he adds, picking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it up. I want to remind him we're in a closed space and that I hate the smell of it, but since I just met him and I have no idea how helpful he might be in our cause, I remain silent, opting to just grimace when he blows smoke into the room.

"Chloe, this is Cal," Tony introduces, speaking to me for the first time.

It's dark, but I can tell he isn't looking at me while speaking to me. I don't need to say how this annoys me immensely.

"He is the boss of the Irish Kings here in New York City," he carries on, leaning against the wall, still not looking at me. He has his arms crossed in front of his chest, and his hooded eyes tell me he's not happy to be here.

Or maybe that I am here.

I've heard about the Irish Kings before, and how they turned from enemies to allies, and even friends. I'm relieved to know Tony has people outside of the Saints helping him to chase Mateo. Or at least, that's what I assume Cal is doing here. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Cal," I say, nodding at him and offering a soft smile.

"The pleasure's mine, love. Now I see what me lad here saw in ya." He seems to be having fun, and I'm positive I'm missing an internal joke here or whatever, but I don't mind. For a first impression, I kind of like him already. There is a nice aura about him, almost as if he enjoys seeing Tony pissed off.

Which is exactly what seems to be happening right now.

Tony clears his throat, shooting a deathly look at Cal.

"What did you bring me here for?" I ask Tony, staring at him and hoping he can look at me so I can read his expression and make sure he is okay. I could outright ask him, but I know he won't tell me the truth. "Can I finally come home?" I know the answer to that, but it doesn't hurt to ask it anyway.

"You and Ellie need to stay in Vermont for a little longer," Tony informs me darkly. "I just need some information from you."

"Couldn't you have asked me over the phone?" I blurt bitterly, unable to keep my anger from boiling up.

Cal snorts, shrugging as Tony glances at him once more.

"No, I couldn't," Tony replies seriously. "This is classified information and I can't risk any of this leaking."

I sigh, already feeling where this is going. "What do you need to know?"

"I need you to tell me everything you know about business and safehouses that Mateo has in Miami," Tony demands.

His eyes roam over the room, or even behind me, but not once does he look me in the eye. It makes me want to cry. I'd rather he tell me he hates me than ignore me like this.

"I don't know much about it. He didn't share those things with me," I tell him.

"You might have heard something along the years," Tony suggests. "Just think about it carefully."

Cal nods in agreement, but remains silent, smoking his cigarette peacefully.

I rack my brain for anything that might be useful. I meant it when I said Mateo didn't share business information with me. Even though he was obsessed with me, he never trusted me to let me know about his dealings.

Some names of bars and people I heard being dropped here and there in meetings and hushed conversations between him and his men pop into my mind and I mention them to Tony. I make sure to remind him it might mean nothing, but Cal assures me they need something to start from. He will have his men look into it cautiously, and Tony says he will do the same with the Saints.

That's when I realize what he's planning. He's going after Mateo. Tony will stop waiting for him to come at us and will go after him first. After Mateo and the De La Cruz Cartel.

He is done waiting.

"Got all you need to start looking?" Tony asks Cal, who looks too comfortable in this shabby room. It makes me wonder what he must have been through in his life. A guy like him must have experienced a lot so as not to be shaken by anything so easily.

"Sure do. We'll get the bastard soon, I promise ya." Cal nods, putting down the cigarette and looking between me and Tony.

They share a glance, an unspoken message being exchanged through their eyes. Then Cal looks at me and bows his head slightly. "I'll be makin' me way now, love. It was a joy to meet the one causin' this lad such a fierce headache lately!" He chuckles and passes by me, leaving the room.

The atmosphere instantly gets heavier, the silence around us almost deafening. I hear nothing but the sound of our own breathing and the rain outside, but I don't dare say anything. I simply stare at Tony, waiting to see if he will finally look at me and stop pretending I'm invisible to him.

He clears his throat awkwardly and his eyes finally meet mine, causing me to shiver from head to toe. "This is only temporary, Chloe," he tells me softly, his voice barely audible.

"Sure," I murmur, still too upset with him to be casual about this. "As if this is not what you want, right? This distance between us..."