Subgated by the mafia

“Are you sure you want to take this trip?” My Aunt Camellia's question didn't take me by surprise; it was something I had expected to hear for days when I bought the plane ticket, so I looked at her with a smile and nodded. “Yes, I'm sure I want to give myself a chance to meet my father's family and find out if he was a good man.” She frowned before letting out a long sigh. “I wish I had known about him, but your mother wasn't the most forthcoming woman.” “I know.” The story of how my mother moved continents to pursue the dream of becoming a famous high fashion model in Europe was a well-known one. What was never known about her was how she ended up pregnant with me and giving birth to me in a hospital in Milan. That was the best kept secret of all, one that she didn't hesitate to take to her grave and never told anyone about who the man who impregnated her was. Her last words were for me to grow up in the United States with her family, but I always had a need to know about my homeland. So, when my biological grandfather contacted me after tracking me down because of a DNA sample I gave to a genetic company that studies family trees, I didn't hesitate to accept his invitation to the promised land. And although my aunt was appealing to common sense, she respected the fact that I had a need to fill in knowing who my father was. “Passengers for Flight 589 to Rome, please board at Terminal 5.” It came over the loudspeakers, and Aunt Camelia looked at me with some regret. “I'll be fine," I said before hugging her tightly. She had raised me without objection and given me a stable family full of love, so I would always be grateful for all her affection. “It's time for me to go. Take good care of yourself, and for the love of your life, let me know when you arrive. Don't forget to give me all the details, send pictures, and keep me informed," she asked before releasing me. “I will.” With that, I walked away and went straight to the boarding area. I stood in the foreign passenger line because, although I was born in Italy, I had no Italian papers because my mother wanted me to, and since she never said anything about my father, he could never register me, so I became Rose Smith. A judicious young woman who grew up in a comfortable suburb of Queens and studied creative writing to imagine and capture love stories, even though she had not yet fallen in love. I smiled because one of the things I had planned for my trip was to write so much that my fingers would be numb and then venture out a bit. I wanted to give myself time to explore outside of my comfort zone, much to the chagrin of being one of the shyest people in the world, but I had promised myself. Experimenting was on my to-do and priority lists. Thirty minutes after boarding in an economy class seat, the flight attendant approached me with a very pretty young woman who spoke perfect Italian. She stowed her carry-on luggage in the compartment above my head after saying something to the flight attendant, and she sat down next to me, right next to the window. “Hi, I'm Chiara. Is this your first trip to Italy?” She asked with a smile. I didn't want to be rude, so I answered out of politeness. “Yes, it's my first time. I'm Rose.” “Are you traveling for pleasure or with family? Those are the only two ways to go," she said in an amused tone. “I guess you could say I'm going for pleasure.” From there, the two of us engaged in a lively conversation about Rome, the most emblematic places to visit, and the must-see entertainment spots in the city. “If you want to eat well, you have to go to Seen Rome; they serve delicious dishes," she said like a local. “The best specialties of the country are served there; do not hesitate to go there for dinner after the typical day of cultural visits in the capital. The only thing I do not recommend are the Neapolitan pizzas; they are eaten in Naples because there is no better place where they are made.” “I think it's fabulous; I'll keep it in mind while I'm in town.” “Will you be leaving soon? We recommend at least a week to enjoy all that Rome has to offer.” “I'm going to Sicily; I'll be visiting the area," I said with some confidence. “It has beautiful places, but if you are looking for the Cosmopolitan experience, Rome is your place, so if you like to go and enjoy a nice place to go out and drink, visit Ego Club; it has the best DJ in town.” Listening to Chiara talk made me realize how much I had to explore and how much of an unknown world lay before me. Her enthusiasm was very contagious, so much so that I dared to talk to her most of the flight, and it was something new because I had a hard time making friends and talking to strangers. You could say it was a breakthrough for me. For the first time, I felt what it might be like to become sociable, and by the time we landed, not only had we exchanged numbers, but we agreed to do some visiting after we went to lunch. “I'll go to the bathroom for a moment," I said. "Wait for me for a few minutes.” “Go on, I'll call a reliable cab driver to pick us up; I'll wait for you outside.” I smiled at him and walked towards the restrooms that were near the airport exit. I was so distracted that I bumped into a man, and the impact left me on the floor. “Sta bene, signorina?” asked the man as he helped me up, but I didn't understand what he said, so I denied as I shook out my pants, "Are you all right, Miss?” I listened to his perfect English; that made me look at him, and I was in awe of the male specimen that stood before me. He was a tall, handsome man with tanned skin and blue eyes that looked like striking sapphires. His angular features were impressive, but the fact that he was dressed in a tailored suit made him look like the quintessential Italian male beauty. He looked like a perfume commercial model and smiled when he saw my stupefied state, for which I felt embarrassed. “Yes, I'm fine. Thank you and excuse me.” I was too embarrassed to know that I should be blushing. “Go carefully," she said in a slightly huskier tone of voice. “Have a good trip, stranieri.” “Excuse me, what did you call me?” “Foreigner, that's who you are," he replied with a raised eyebrow. “It's easy to tell when they don't speak Italian.” I nodded. “Yes…” I looked down because it was so intimidating, so I clenched my hands in reflex anxiety, and he had the audacity to grab my chin and lift my face. “You are very beautiful.” At that moment, I felt something more than warmth in my body; I simply found myself paralyzed, so when I was about to tell him something, he let go of me and walked away, leaving me in a daze. I went to the bathroom to take the opportunity to freshen up, still thinking about the situation, and smiled like a fool because that had been the most intense interaction I had ever had with a man. “I need to live a little," I said to myself, looking in the mirror. I hurried to leave and texted my aunt that everything was fine and that I would let her know soon about Grandpa. I went straight to the exit, and Chiara waved me to her. I walked, and she helped me put my things in the trunk of the cab. “Do you have a hotel reservation?” “Yes, at the Hilton.” “I'll take you after lunch," she said as if it was nothing, and I smiled. “This is my good friend Paolo. He doesn't speak English, but he's the best driver in the world.” “That's excellent," I replied, and I greeted the man with a smile. “I am anxious to know everything.” “And I'm eager to show you the city.” I looked at the streets once Paolo advanced, and I was undoubtedly fascinated. The city was beautiful, vibrant, and had a personality of its own that made it a paradise for my novels. It was such a stimulus that I couldn't help but make notes of the ideas that sprouted in my head, and at a traffic light, I tried to take a picture without being aware of what was coming. “I'm so sorry to do this.” I turned to look at Chiara without understanding her. “To do what?” “Kidnap you.” I didn't quite register the word until I felt a prick in my neck. I only became aware of it all when I tried to run away from the car, but my hands didn't help. I felt my body was unresponsive. A numbness came over me, and before I fell into unconsciousness, I saw Chiara handing a wad of bills to Paolo. I hadn't realized how my naivety had gotten me into trouble.