Her Sicilian Arrangement

For my mother,
Patricia;

for your never-ending
support.

For Kishane
Robinson;

you know why.

CHAPTER 1

Meagan sat back in the oversize chair and watched restlessly
as the two men stood shouting, what seemed to be total nonsense, at
each other. If she hadn’t desperately wanted that job in Sicily,
she probably would have walked straight out of the room. Her gaze
moved from the tall plump elderly man, the guy she had called her
boss or rather ‘Chief’ for five long years, and whom never noticed
the amusement he offered the entire staff of the rather bumpy bald
spot he tried so hard to conceal with the few strands of hair he
had left surrounding it. The other was Miles Hart: her professional
enemy! Not that she really liked him anyways. His arrogance
condoned anyone who came within ten feet of his presence and he was
the pure epiphany of narcissism and wicked. She glared at him as he
stood high and mighty as if he was far more than his six feet and
brushed a lock of his long blonde hair from his forehead; the rest
was caught in a tight ponytail. For a moment, she wondered if he
was anything like Samson from that Bible story she had admired so
much as a child. There was no doubt that he was nowhere as strong
but she had to wonder…was his hair his weakness? She’d caught him
too many times, running his hands through it as if it needed
minutely care. But seriously, if she was to grab that ponytail and
clamp the blades of a scissors over it, would that make him leave
so that she could finally start enjoying her job? Her thoughts were
childish, yes! But ever since Miles showed up at the firm four
years ago, no one noticed her anymore including the Chief. He got
the best cases in the best places. And that was why she needed that
job so much…she wanted to prove to everyone that she was just as
good as Miles Hart and even better too.

“
What do you think about that?” the Chief’s voice
came.

“
See
what I’m talking about?” Miles' followed with pure resentment.
“Mee-gan over here doesn’t even hear a word that you’re saying. How
could you possibly be considering giving her the job over
me?”

“It’s Mea-gan, Mr. Hart—
Meagan
!” she pronounced with emphasis and glared at him. “Maybe I
was just busy plotting your murder.”

“
Pure incompetence!” he threw back and pointed a finger at the
Chief and then back at her. “This is what I have to work
with!”

“
Hey, just hold your bullets for a moment. The last time I
checked I wasn’t running a nursery!” the Chief said in a neutral
tone. He then flung his index finger sharply at Miles. “And don’t
you forget that I’m the boss around here.”

Meagan chuckled softly as Miles spun around and dropped
himself in a chair with anger written all over his features. “I
need this job,” she continued. “It’s simple as that.”

“
Miles over there says he’s the best guy for the job because
he’s been to Sicily countless times and knows his way around
well.”

“
And
I indeed am,” Miles added, grudgingly.

“
So
what?” she chuckled, hysterically and stood akimbo. “I am just as
good as he is and you know it!”

“
Not
even close…,” Miles muttered tauntingly, staring down at his
expensive suit.

She
rolled her eyes at him and continued. “Look, Chief. I know that I
can nail this assignment and if you give me this one, I promise
that I won’t let you down.”

“
Kiss up…”

“Miles, will you
shut up
?
Somebody obviously hasn’t gotten laid in a while…,” she teasingly
flung at him.

“
Okay, that is it!” he responded and jumped up to his feet. “I
refuse to mingle with this—this ignorant woman!”

“
Hold it…,” Chief said abruptly as he sat at his large mahogany
desk. Meagan folded her arms angrily, avoiding both of their eyes
him. Miles stood five feet behind. She could feel his gaze burning
holes through her back desperately searching to pierce her heart.
“Summers, you’re going to Sicily tomorrow…Hart; you’ve got the
Hamptons’ murder case!”

“Yes
!” Meagan
squealed and then flung a dirty smile at Miles. “See ya!” And she
stormed out of the room, feeling totally victorious and overjoyed.
So, she was to leave for Sicily the following day and she could
hardly wait. This was going to be the case that would bring her
career to its peak. Only three days ago, it was all over the news
for about fifteen minutes that the tycoon, Marco Mussolini, had
been accused of drug-smuggling in and out of his successful yacht
and sail-boat businesses on the northern harbours of Sicily as well
as off the coast of Réggio di Calábria in Southern Italy. What made
that story so important to the United States was that they were
also worried that Marco might be involved in the Cosa Nostra. To
everyone’s surprise, the court case had been dismissed hours ago
and it was suspected that Marco probably had paid his way out of
the lion’s mouth. From her professional point of view, that theory
was more than easy to accept but she was only growing wiser and
wiser by each case she had worked on; even though she thought him
guilty, there was definitely more to the story.

Even
before she had gotten notice that their firm was interested in such
a popular European story, she had done a thorough research on the
Mussolini family and had gathered enough information to start her
further investigation in Sicily. Marco Mussolini was the middle
child of three children for Alessándria and Torre Mussolini, at
thirty years old. Following him by only three years was María, who
was already married and had a child of her own. Then there was
Felípe; the eldest at thirty three years old and who was considered
as the ‘party-animal’ of the family. She had discovered that they
all lived in their separate homes in beautiful neighbourhoods
scattered over the coastal town of Villabate, just off the capital
city of Palermo. But she had not done much research on the rest of
the family past that point. She had decided to stick to Marco since
that was where key knowledge was needed. Meagan’s primary
objectives were to find out as much as she could about Marco
Mussolini, gather the facts and make her story in a month’s time
for it to be published in the March Madness Edition of their
magazine, New York’s Finest.

Meagan slid into the rotating chair at her fairly spacious
cubicle and smiled eagerly as she skipped through her notes on the
case. The morning after she was to arrive in Sicily, Marco was
scheduled at a press conference in Palermo to address his alleged
actions to the public…and that was all she knew so far. Well, she
had do some serious digging when she arrived there because she had
no intention of returning to work without a report that could
guarantee her a raise, plus to rub her achievements hard in Miles’
face. Besides, anything happening to the contrary would give him
all the more arrogantly chosen audacity to degrade her as a woman
and professional. At the firm, she hardly had friends. Well, to be
fair she didn’t have any. It was every man for himself like always
and everyone ostracized everyone.

The
ball-point jell-ink pen slid from her fingers unto the desk and she
looked up as she saw someone stop at her tiny entrance.

“
So,
you got the job, uh?” Miles muttered, resting both hands on either
sides of the cubicle, and smiling mysteriously, running his palm
over his hair. “We’ll see how that is going to work
out.”

She
looked up at him and shook her head. “You just can’t accept defeat
now, can you?”

“Oh…you haven’t won yet,
Mee-gan
. This is only getting started. I know for a fact that you
won’t get a scrap of info off Marco Mussolini’s head. Not a
chance!”

She
stood at that point, smoothed out her tight tailored skirt and
glared at him. “That’s what you think!” she said, picking up her
hand bag, pushed him out of her way and started walking off. She
then turned around for a brief moment. “Oh, for the last
time…it’s
Mea-gan
for
God’s sake! Gosh, at least get something right for
once!”

At
that point, everyone turned to look at her and she rolled her eyes
and then exited the room. If she wasn’t the type of woman to have
her head firmly held on her body, she probably would have gone mad
years ago. As soon as she entered the elevator, she released a
breath that only she knew the intensity of its true frustration and
sighed. At least the classical tune of the elevator music was
soothing her riled up nerves to some extent. Nobody said that
journalism was an easy career that bore no degree of stress. But
why did Satan’s favourite demon had to land in her good old sweet
dream-come-true? It was not fair. There was absolutely no
explanation for her potential having to be hidden behind the shadow
of a mean snobbish man. Oh, she was going to prove him wrong! All
of them!

The
bottom of her gorgeous black-suede five-inch heels touched the
smooth pavement of the pathway as she disembarked the small flight
of steps leading down to the sidewalk. She then squinted her eyes
as the scorching rays of the yet late afternoon sun temporarily
blocked her vision as she looked to the right to locate an upcoming
cab. But she was out of luck and she moved towards the bus stop to
take a seat under the vacant shed. She looked up the street and
then down again when she saw a yellow cab coming her direction.
Jumping to her feet instantly, she extended her arm to signal the
vehicle to a stop and it pulled up to her feet.

“Queen’s Street, please!” she said as soon as she entered the
car. She saw the driver nod slowly and then the vehicle moved
on.

Meagan stared out the window at the buildings as they passed
by. She could remember as a child, whenever she behaved well
enough, when her mother would carry her on her fortnightly grocery
shopping-sprees. She would have always counted the street-light
posts as well as every SUV she saw. SUVs…yep, she had admired them
terribly as a child…she still did. So, it was fair enough to say
that it was her dream car. But her current position in her career
could not afford her one…her main goal at that point was to save up
for a house…she was getting tired up renting apartments that sucked
most of her salary out of her pocket.

In
an instant, she felt her cell phone vibrating in her hang bag and
unzipped it quickly searching through its contents frustratedly
until she found it. “Hello?” she answered. “Yes, I am on my way
home right now…no, I’m sorry; I won’t be able to make it…of course
I am not making a sham...I will be in Europe for a month and I’m
leaving tomorrow. Okay…I will see you then.”

Meagan slid the phone into her bag and sighed. It was Ryan;
she could not figure out entirely what relations she had with him
exactly. They weren’t friends…and they sure as hell weren’t dating
either. She could not even remember how they had met in the first
place. But ever since then, he hadn’t stopped calling her to invite
her to events that she had no idea about or just showing up at her
apartment at random and absolutely odd hours. He wasn’t a bad guy,
she enjoyed his company…she admired his designer work and his sense
of humour but quite frankly, he wasn’t her type. Well, she did not
know if she had a ‘type’ but she was sure that she wasn’t attracted
to him. Some guys are just best left as friends.

She
had to admit, he was cute with those deep blue eyes and short
dark-blonde hair with the swag and body of a model, but to be
honest, she could not yet figure out his sexual orientation. She
could not grip a conclusion on whether or not he was straight,
gay….or a mixture of both. She tried as best as she could not to be
judgemental because she had met a many guys who weren’t afraid to
expose their feminine sides that had turned out to be just straight
around all the edges. At that point, she was in no position to make
a call on Ryan’s sexuality so she might as well just wait until she
knew for sure.

The
cab pulled up to the apartment building on Queen’s Street and she
slid out of the car, walking around to the side-front of the car
with her purse in her hand. She pulled out a ten-dollar bill and
handed it to the driver. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. This won’t do…yellow
cab fares have been raised.”

“
What?” she exclaimed. “Since when?”

“
Since Saturday…didn’t you hear? It was all over the news
too…”