Tempted By The Devil: Chapter 31
Tempted By The Devil (Kings Of Mafia)
Reaching the counter, Iâm breathless as I ask, âWhen is the next flight to America?â
The attendant frowns as she looks at her computer screen. âWhere in America?â
âI donât care. Anywhere.â
Her eyes dart over my face. âAre you okay?â
I nod and squeeze the words out. âI lostâ¦I lost my husband.â
I lost Angelo.
A heartbreaking cry threatens to rip free from my throat.
He sounded so angry over the phone. I just know if he finds me, heâll kill me.
Oh God.
Another wave of trauma, fear, and heartbreak shake me to my core.
Compassion softens the attendantâs features. âIâm so sorry.â She quickly checks the screen again, then says, âThereâs one boarding right now with Swiss Air. Itâs destined for Minnesota. Will that be okay?â
I nod frantically. âHow much?â
âOne thousand six hundred euros.â
I quickly take the envelope from my handbag and give her the cash and my passport. âIâll take it.â
My heart beats out of my chest, and I keep glancing around me while she processes the purchase.
Donât let them find me.
Please, Father. Keep me safe.
When the attendant prints the ticket, she says, âIâve upgraded you to first class at no extra charge.â Giving me the ticket, her smile is filled with sympathy. âDo you have any luggage you have to check in?â
I shake my head. âIâm traveling light.â Because in my panic, I forgot to grab my luggage from the car. Thereâs no time to go back to the parking area.
âIs that all I can help with?â
I quickly nod. âThank you so much!â I glance around me again. âWhere do I go?â
She points to her left. âStraight down there and through the lounge for first-class passengers.â
My eyes lock with hers for a brief moment, and I swallow hard on my tears. âThank you.â
âYouâre welcome.â
When I dart away from the counter, I struggle not to run. Feeling more and more frantic by the second, I keep glancing around me as I hurry toward the area the attendant pointed out.
Entering the first class section, my eyes land on security personnel, and it instantly makes my heart flutter in my chest as my anxiety spikes.
What if they stop me?
What if one of them works for Angelo?
God. Please. Please. Please.
âCome forward,â the security guard says with a nod at me.
My mouth is bone dry as I place my handbag in a container. I step through the body scanner, and when it doesnât beep, I release a relieved breath.
The guards donât even look at me again, and I quickly grab my handbag and rush down a hallway.
When I hurry toward another attendant, she smiles at me. âJust in time. They called to say youâre on your way.â
âThank you so much,â I gasp, my hand trembling as I hand her my passport and ticket.
She checks everything before handing the documents back to me. âEnjoy your flight, Mrs. Rizzo.â
Hearing my married name, my heart squeezes painfully in my chest.
âThank you,â I whisper before I enter the walkway leading to the plane.
Almost there.
Once I step aboard, Iâm shown to a cubicle with a luxurious seat. I slump down and cover my mouth as my mouth trembles from the effort itâs taking not to cry.
My heart keeps pounding as the minutes until take-off slowly creep by.
Please, Father. Help me escape this terrible fate.
Finally, the announcement is made, and the plane begins to move. I glance out of the small window, and as the plane speeds up and everything begins to blur, I hold my breath.
My stomach drops as the aircraft takes flight.
Lowering my head, I stare at the wedding ring on my finger, and now that Iâm safely in the air for a while, the trauma and heartbreak overwhelm me.
Silent tears stream down my cheeks, and I turn my back toward the aisle. I wrap an arm around my middle and wipe the tears away as they fall.
When thereâs a soft touch on my shoulder, I startle and glance at a flight attendant as she says, âSorry, Mrs. Rizzo. I just want to pay my respects to you for your loss. My name is Claire. If thereâs anything you need, donât hesitate to call me.â
The other attendants mustâve told her.
Nodding, I whisper, âCan I have some water and tissues, please?â
âOf course.â I watch as she hurries down the aisle, and a moment later, sheâs back with a bottle of water and a packet of Kleenex.
She crouches by my seat and rubs her hand up and down my arm. âAre you okay?â
I shake my head, and covering my face, Iâm unable to stop crying because sheâs being so kind to me.
Claire keeps rubbing my shoulder, then whispers, âIâm so sorry. I wish I could do more.â
Sucking in a shuddering breath, I nod before saying. âThank you. Itâs justâ¦â I glance at her. âIâm just processing the shock.â
âI completely understand.â She gives me a compassionate look. âIâll be right back.â
I nod, and when she straightens up and walks away, I turn my back to the aisle again.
A few seconds later, she returns with a tumbler of whiskey. âThis will help with the shock.â
âThank you.â I take a sip of the liquid that tastes like gasoline, and when it burns down my throat, a cough sputters from me.
âCan I get you something to eat?â
I shake my head as I set the tumbler down. âIâll be okay. Thank you for everything.â
Iâll never be okay again.
Claire returns to her duties, and my thoughts are inundated with flashes of Maurizio and me going over the balconyâs railing.
I see his body lying over the boulder and the death stare in his lifeless eyes.
I keep seeing it.
Over and over.
I cover my mouth with a trembling hand, unable to process the trauma.
I hear Angeloâs anger in his voice.
I lost him.
Unbearable heartache shudders through my body.
I lost more than just Angelo. Tiny. Rita. Even Big Ricky. Just as I thought I finally had the family I always wanted, itâs been brutally ripped away from me.
Whatâs worse is theyâll come after me â not because they want me back â but because they want revenge.
The people Iâve come to love want me dead.
Iâll never know peace again. Iâll have to constantly live on guard and move from place to place.
Why did this happen?
Iâll never be able to return to Long Island. I wonât see Father Parisi and Rosa again.
Iâve truly lost everything that mattered.
Once again, Iâm assaulted by the traumatic memory of Maurizio falling to his death.
I killed a man. Itâs a mortal sin.
No amount of asking for forgiveness will wash the stain from my soul.
Even God has forsaken me.
My tears fall silent over my cheeks as my grim reality reaps destruction in my soul.
Iâm so sorry, Angelo.
In desperate need of comfort, I dig my cell phone out of my bag and open the chat I share with Angelo. I scroll to the very beginning and read all the messages weâve sent each other. But none of them offers me any comfort. Instead, the texts break my heart.
In this moment of devastation and darkness, I realize I wasnât just in love with Angelo. I love him.
I love him with my whole heart and soul.
And I didnât even get to tell him.
Angelo.
As the plane flies toward Zurich, where I have to catch a connecting flight, my soul weeps for the immense losses Iâve suffered.