Chapter 5 | 5 | I Hate Mondays

[ D O M I N I C O ]

Another sun-drenched morning on this thing. "Great." I sigh.

It almost feels surreal after a long night of boozing and chaos. I shield my eyes from the blinding rays with my hand, wearing nothing but wrinkled pants and old boxers. I shut the door behind me.

Right now Seraphine's much safer locked up in the bathroom. This shouldn't take a while. I step out into the quiet deck.

Empty. Not a single soul. The waves look calm. Unlike my brain.

Who the fuck woke me up for nothing? "Enzo?" I scratch my chest and head towards the stairs. I didn't order room service, and my father would've screamed his head off if it was him knocking incessantly. "Enzo," I call out, clenching my jaw as the throbbing pain in my nose intensifies. An unwanted reminder of my father's anger management issues.

One of many. My face can still feel those two solid punches. It's a miracle I even fell asleep. Somehow those little pills Seraphine gave me worked their magic.

The gnawing pain immediately resurfaces whenever I yawn, though. "Shit." It's gonna be another sleepless night. If the swelling persists, I might follow her advice about seeing a doctor. Probably a waste of time and money, but she wouldn't have given me all that medical advice just to impress.

The tall and brown-haired guy on the stairs halts my hurried steps. Black joggers and trainers make him look like he just got out of the gym. My cousin slouches on the third step, alone and leaning his lower back against the wall. Black earphones cover his ears. A scowl creases his dark brows and forehead.

I smirk at the businesslike tone and posh Brit accent spilling through his gravelly voice. No idea who's on the other line and pissing him off this early, but their conversation sounds important.

When he sees me, Enzo says goodbye to whoever's on the other end and pockets his phone. He takes a step closer to me and chuckles.

At my shiner, probably. "Don't ask." I rake my fingers through my hair. My scalp feels disgusting. Irritated. I'm already parched, but I can still taste the alcohol on my tongue.

Enzo smirks and stands before me with his hands on his narrow waist. "I'm asking anyways." He looks me up and down. "Too much fun with your bartender?"

"Fuck off." I lean against the half-wall facing the sun and the tranquil waters. The sea breeze already feels humid, but it's more bearable than yesterday. The air smells of salt, but I don't hate it as much as I hate the things I have to do to stay employed and alive.

Enzo's question tells me he's not the only one who recognized Seraphine when I was dragging her up here, just to hide her in there. The only cabin on this deck. I'm pretty certain the people my father invited aboard aren't the best at keeping his secrets.

I look behind. About ten steps away, the door still looks closed. Locked from inside. No noises coming from the cabin. Good enough.

She's still in the bathroom, which means she doesn't think I was just bullshitting her or keeping her in there all morning against her will.

"You do know she's the receptionist at the club. Right?" Enzo squints his amused blue eyes at me. Clearly he's no longer as interested in the bruises on my face and busted nose as he is intrigued about whether Seraphine and I did the deed.

Like I'm known for preying on my employees or something. Nosey judgemental bastard. "Somethin' you wanna say?" I make a face at his slanted grin.

Enzo backs off and raises his palms. Dark stubble touches the edges of his pale lips. Like me, he doesn't prefer clean cuts and is never clean-shaven. Too busy making money to care about good razors. "Just in case you forgot," he mumbles with a wry smile.

"I didn't."

"Never thought you'd fancy someone her age. But, good for you, mate."

What's he really trying to say?

Enzo smirks again. "Looks like Lizbeth, too."

"She's 24. Not that it's any of your business," I retort, ignoring his last comment. I stretch my tired arms and back muscles.

I'm aware that Seraphine just had her birthday, the day before she signed up for this side-job. As a matter of fact, I know things about her besides her birthdate and her day job.

Let's just say I'm familiar with the girls on my father's to-do list for a couple of reasons. Well, most of them.

"Ah... I thought younger." Enzo nods slightly and cocks his head to the side. "Anyway, Ottavio's definitely on the run. My money's on Amsterdam."

That sneaky, two-faced son of a bitch. Ottavio is the shrewd accountant my family hired. The guy is also my father's oldest washer. I sigh out loud and try not to scowl at the ache in the bridge of my nose. "Pappa told you?"

"Last night."

"Why Amsterdam? His family's from Germany."

"His ex-wife and kid recently moved there."

Ah. Makes sense. It seems I'm not flying to Berlin anytime soon. "Who told you?" I question in a calm voice. I'm trying to acknowledge my unproductive one-on-one with my father last night without dwelling on those final moments.

If I find Ottavio (legally known as Octavius Bernhard Sonnenberg) this week, I might be able to convince that stupid thief to change his mind about betraying my family of well-connected criminals. For his and his entire family tree's sake.

"Friend of a friend," Enzo mutters while he focuses on his phone.

I sit on the wooden floor and look up at the scattered clouds. Although we don't always see eye to eye, I trust his word more than my father's, because Lorenzio's practically the older brother I never had.

Pragmatic. Driven. Self-sufficient. Reliable. Generous and caring. Even though he tries to act bossy and standoffish at times. "Your old man told you to find the guy?" Enzo glances at me with a fleeting look of concern.

I clench my fist and fake a chuckle. "I got five days. A week tops," I murmur. I don't wanna add that I'm my father's glorified errand runner now because he's too busy grooming Enzo's brother (Leandro) to be his right-hand man. Just thinking about it makes my blood boil.

It's not simply jealousy. Or a fucked up kind of sibling-cousin rivalry. I just never liked Leandro. But I don't pray for his soul to rot in hell. Yet.

"Or what?"

"You really have to ask?" I match Enzo's scowl.

"I'm flying back to New York first thing. Wanna come?"

"No thanks." I look skyward, imagining him all suited up at another board meeting in the Big Apple.

Aside from co-owning a pharmacy chain here in Italy, he's starting up a biotech firm in America with an old friend. We've talked about it last night. He even told me I should consider new career options and join their growing company as his CFO.

Of course I declined. My father's obsessing over expanding our clan's empire with Leandro and the Falcos. Their new business partners. My father will pitch a colossal fit if I mention I'm looking to explore other career avenues.

Despite the disdain I harbor for his ruthless pursuit of more wealth and power, I can't just forget the fact that I'm tethered to him by a growing debt. Because I know what he does to people who owe him that much money and can't pay him back.

It's not that he's got me on a tight leash, but I wouldn't have stayed here in Italy for another five years if I didn't lose millions of his money. Just another bitter pill to swallow.

"Sure you don't wanna give New York a try?" Enzo stands closer to my leg and stares at me, like he's eagerly waiting for my answer. "It's a good business. Demand's growing, and, the long-term rewards aren't bad."

"I'm good," I lie, feigning a casual tone. "Appreciate the offer, though."

"Alright. Tsk. Your call," he mutters as he glances around, his tone laced with disappointment.

I'm making the right decision. It's not the most ideal, but, staying here and working for the family business... It's the only choice I have at the moment.

My life here isn't as flexible as his. I have bigger responsibilities now. A longer list of expectations to meet. Huge debts to settle.

I just don't wanna bore my cousin with the details. Or make him think I need rescuing. I'm not the type who asks for favors or seeks sympathy for the unfortunate consequences of my own choices. "Can't leave the country right now."

"Right." Enzo's faint nods don't match the expression on his tan face, as if he couldn't understand my stubbornness or the weight of my predicament.

A whistling breeze slaps my bare skin as he sits next to me on the vinyl flooring. "And I don't wanna call you my boss."

"I'm willingly handing you a clear way out of this mess, you wanker." Enzo teasingly hits the back of my head.

"Yeah." I grin. "I know."

"Obviously you didn't." Enzo laughs briefly while shaking his head weakly. "But if you change your mind, gimme a call."

"Yep."

Enzo scoffs and scrolls through some photos of office buildings on his phone. "At least think about it, Doni."

"I did." I stare at the placid waves. The boat's finally approaching the dock. I don't know whether I should feel relieved or worried.

Seraphine needs to get off this boat today.

Keeping up a straight face, I rest my elbow on Enzo's shoulder and look up. The sun's climbing higher, casting its warmth all over this deck, promising a new day of opportunities. I don't feel optimistic about the next couple of days, though.

The allure of a different life challenges my disposition, but the reality of my current obligations anchors me to my reality here. Our family's wealth always comes with strings attached, and I know my career will have to continue within my father's confines for as long as I owe him.

Right now I got a new hat to wear and an international money launderer to hunt down. Not the ideal task list on a Monday morning. But it's a job my father (and boss) expects me to finish ASAP.

And I know I gotta do my best to get it all done soon to avoid my untimely death. Just one of the facts I have to live with for being his son.

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