Her Sicilian Arrangement (3 page)

“
I
have reservations here…Meagan Summers.”

The
receptionist skipped through a large thin book and then nodded.
“Sí. You have the, um…the suite number fifteen on the third floor.
Here is your key,” she said, handing her a swipe card. “Daily
dinner and breakfast is free.
Divertirsi!
Enjoy your stay here!”

“Thank you.” Meagan turned on her heal shortly and the
bell-hop led the way, pushing the trolley with her luggage towards
the elevator. In a short minute, they both entered and she smiled
politely with him as he returned the gesture. A couple minutes
passed until she asked, “Um…where is the…
Palermo Centrale Centro
?” She tried as hard as she could to
get the pronunciation right even though her Italian was very
poor.

“Yes, it is very nearby,” he responded with a deep accent that
it she was almost unsure that he was replying in English. “You
drive straight, turn left and then go right.”

“
Left…then right?” she repeated.

“Sí
!”

“Grazie
,” she
replied and leant over to take a look at his nametag.
“Uh…Paolo.”

“Prego, Signora
!”

She
could guess that meant ‘Thank You’ and she averted her eyes to the
floor-meter. They were only two floors away and in a moment, the
elevator bell dinged and the doors slid open. She followed Paolo
unto the beautifully lit area and looked around in awe. The entire
floor looked golden and she could swear that she could see her
reflection quite vividly on in the tiles. On the walls, were
numerous pieces of, what she could guess, were very expensive
paintings as well as a framed map of all the interesting areas in
the hotel. She then moved towards her suite door and slid the key
into the slot. After pulling it back out, the door opened and she
pushed it further.

“
This is beautiful,” she exclaimed as her eyes moved from the
exquisite furniture to the elegant chandelier hanging from the
ceiling and then to the remarkable interior design that could only
be Italian. “Uh...Paolo, you can just leave my luggage
here.”

“Sí,
Signora
! Have a
wonderful evening.” And he left. Meagan walked around the suite and
smiled. Too bad she didn’t have enough energy to take in the beauty
of the room. She felt her stomach growl horribly and she strained
with her luggage in two trips to the bedroom which was equally as
beautiful as the rest. The large king-sized bed attracted her in
more ways than one and sat on the edge, pulling off her shoes and
then slid off her black pencil skirt and rose-pink ruffle blouse.
She then moved into the adjoining bathroom with every intention of
taking a warm shower.

Her
month in Sicily would officially start the following morning and
she had to get her head in the game to gather that story on Marco
Mussolini no matter what it takes….even if it meant breaking into
his house. Meagan chuckled at that thought as she lathered her body
in the sweet strawberry-raspberry body wash. I’m not that crazy!
She would be if she didn’t get some food quick. She then stood
under the shower and washed herself off as the warm water seemed as
if it was warming her insides as well and then turned the faucet
off. After reaching for a towel, she stepped out unto a mat from,
exiting through the glass doors of the shower, and then dried
herself before pulling on a white plush bathrobe that was neatly
folded along with others on a woven bamboo stand.

“
Is
this Room Service?” she muttered after she dialed the number from
the hotel’s personal guest directory. “Okay…what—what kind of food
do you have at this time…Mhmmn…okay…I will have the Ravioli served
with the Bolognese sauce and salad…yes, wine would be great! Thank
you.”

She
hung up and then decided to call her boss until the food arrived.
She didn’t entirely want to speak with him but she had to assure
him that she had arrived without complications and that she was to
begin her work right away. She dialed his number and then waited
for an answer.

“
New
York’s Finest; Mr. Marion Nicholson’s office!” she heard his
assistant, Margie say. “How may I help you?”

Meagan tried not to laugh as she heard Margie utter the
Chief’s name. They had always cracked jokes behind his back about
him having a woman’s Christian name and if he had ever found
out…well, the entire staff would be searching for new jobs.
“Margie, it’s me…Meagan.”

“Meagan; nice to hear from you. How was your flight? You are
in Sicily by now, right?”

"Yes, I arrived more than half hour ago. Um…I need to talk to
Chief.”

“
Okay, hold on while I redirect you.”

Meagan waited for a few seconds until she heard the Chief’s
deep voice. “Summers, how’s Sicily so far?”

“
It’s a beauty.”

“
Well, that’s good old Sicily,” he responded and cleared his
throat. “Uh, listen. I want you to go to the conference and get an
interview with Mr. Mussolini. I hear that the competition is pretty
tough over there. CNN has been there for a days and still can’t get
a lead. I want you to work your charm on the bastard and make him
talk.”

She
had to literally hold her throat to not choke on her words. “What
charm?”

“
You
know what I mean…make him notice you or something…get close. This
could mean a big promotion to Senior Editor, Summers.”

She
had no idea how she would be able to get close to Marco Mussolini.
She didn’t even know that man. All she knew of his appearance was
from a picture that she had seized off the internet. Every other
picture since the controversy involved him being almost surrounded
by his bodyguards. She could barely even see his face. Lucky
enough, she would be able to see what he really looked like. From
online blogs, many said that he looked vicious and mean, and others
said he warm and welcoming. She knew well enough to trust that type
of data source so instead, she was relying on her on view of the
man. But what did the Chief really mean by ‘…work your charm…’? In
her eyes, she was a very normal-looking twenty-six year old woman.
What made him think that Marco Mussolini would notice her? Men like
him didn’t see ‘normal-looking’ women. They would be seen marching
around with supermodels or heiresses up to their
standards.

“
You
know I would love that promotion, Chief. I have working for it
since the day I started working for you. I will try my
best.”

“
You
better,” he hissed and then returned to a flat tone. “And don’t
waste any time thinking you’re on vacation…because you’re
not!”

“Okay—okay!” she sighed. “I will get back with you in due
time.” And the conversation ended right there.

Meagan shook her head and ran her fingers through her long and
thick brunette hair. She felt as if she was already going crazy.
She thought that her duties had been to simply go to the
conference, follow up the story and report to him. She had no idea
that her boss would have asked of her to flaunt her femininity and
swirl herself into the arms of an alleged criminal just for a
promotion. She desperately needed that promotion and after a few
moments, her mind was already made up. She was going to go through
with it, even if she had to put her feelings aside during the
process.

There was a gently knock on the door and she stormed through
the bedroom and into the main room. “Servizio!” she heard. “Room
Service!” She moved quickly and opened the door. A waiter dressed
in black trousers, a white long-sleeved shirt with a black bow tie,
entered, pushing a serving table with well-covered dishes on top.
He then paused at the kitchen area. “Shall I place your meal on the
table, Signora?”

“
Yes, thank you.” She watched him as he neatly arranged the
covered plates on the table along with a few serviettes and then
placed a titanium ice bucket next to it with a bottle of champagne
inside.

“
I
will return in the morning to bring you breakfast as it is when I
will remove these dishes…”

“
Uh…what time is breakfast?” she questioned, making sure that
it would fit perfectly in her schedule.

“Colazione
is
at eight o’clock. Is that okay,
Signora
?

“
Yes, that’s fine. Thank you.”

Good!
She
thought. The conference would commence at nine-thirty and she had
to be there on time to get a good enough seat amongst the other
blood-thirsty journalists. She nodded and then he turned and left
the room, pulling the door closed as he went. She could not wait to
dive into the meal and she pulled out a chair from the table for
two and lifted the silver lids to greet the steamy deliciousness of
the food. The Ravioli consisted of pasta and beautifully garnished
meat, cheese and vegetables with the mouthwatering scent of the
sauce carefully dribbled over it. She picked up a fork almost
instantly and took a mouthful. She felt as if her insides were
melting and her head felt light for a moment as she closed her eyes
and gently chewed the food, allowing it to slowly slide down her
throat, hoping that she wouldn’t miss out on any unique
taste.

Now
this is food!
The
thought tickled her heart the moment it came to her. She had always
been a huge fan of pasta since she was a child but not as much as
she loved cheese. She had loved cheese to the point where she felt
like she had to eat it. She’d sprinkle shredded cheese over her
already cheesy mac and cheese…she’d put cheese in her sausage
sandwiches…cheese on all her snacks…even eat cheese straight from
the plastic bowl that her mother had stored away in the fridge. She
began to remember her childhood as if it had only happened
yesterday.

Her
mother was an Elementary school teacher…a good one at that. Was…she
could not remember the last time she had referred to her mother in
the past tense. Maybe she hadn’t just to save her from experiencing
the sadness; she had felt ten years ago, from her mother’s
unanticipated death. Well, she had always been good at concealing
her feelings…yep, that was how Meredith Summers had been. She could
always reassure the people around her that everything was alright
even when she wasn’t. She had never liked pulling anyone else in
her dramatic world and she’d always walk around with her head held
high with a wide smile on her face.

It
was Meagan’s first year of college and it wasn’t until she had
gotten news that her mother had fainted at work that she had rushed
to the hospital to find out that her mother had contracted
Pancreatic Cancer. She was beyond shocked by her mother’s sudden
revelation of the disease and could not remember ever feeling any
worst pain. The doctor had informed her from reluctant lips that
her mother only had a month or so to live. Why did she keep it a
secret? That was the question that she had redirected at her dying
mother who was lying almost lifeless and pale on a hospital
bed.

“
I…I
didn’t want you…to feel sorry for…me…I wanted you…to be focused
during your college years…promise me you will still…,” she had
muttered from slightly moving lips and swallowing deeply between
every few words. Tears had flooded from her eyes at that point and
she hugged her mother who had obviously been in too much pain to
cry.

“
I
promise you, Mom,” Meagan had replied. “I promise. I love you so
much.”

“
Don’t…don’t worry about me…you are a strong girl…stronger than
even I have ever tried…tried to be.”

Honestly, Meagan could not remember how she had gotten through
her college years past that point. Faith and determination had been
her motivation and her mother’s words were the drivers of her
success because she knew one day that she would be a great
journalist. She just wished that her mother was there to see her
shine.
Meagan wiped
the tears from her eyes and rested her fist against her jaw. She
had been living her live all these years trying not to think about
her mother’s death but whenever she did any little thing, like
then, which triggered the memory, she would just pause for a moment
and think of the good person her mother had been instead of the
circumstances of how she had passed away.

She
had been all she had. They didn’t have the type of families that
you would see in movies or TV shows who stuck by each other even in
the worst of times. Her family was the type that rarely made any
contact with each other. They were selfish and mean…the
‘all-for-themselves’ type. And she hadn’t seen or heard from any of
them since her mother’s funeral. She had tried to contact them at
times but never got any response since they were the type who
believed that it was only when a relative wanted something that
they would call. And they never had anything to offer.
Her father was a sperm
donor! And Meagan was being very practical about that. Her mother
had spoken to her of him once or thrice in her lifetime. She was
twenty-six and they had been in love…or that was what he had wanted
her to believe. They had been discussing marriage and having a
family together…or that was what he had used to brainwash her.
Robby…that was what she had said his name was. Robby had gotten her
mother pregnant within four months of their so-called
‘relationship’ and had pretended to be happy when she had broken
the news to him. The following day when she had returned from work,
he was gone along with some of her jewelry and she hadn’t heard
from him since.