Her Sicilian Arrangement (4 page)

It
was his
loss. For
Meredith Summers was an exquisite woman. She had raised Meagan all
on her own without the help of any man. She had gone on a few dates
but that was it. It had never gone any further than that. Meagan
saw her as the woman who could stand strongly on her own two feet
and not allow another man to use her the way that Robby
had.

Meagan quickly tried to wipe away the memories from the
forefront of her mind and then continued to finish up her meal. She
ate the last piece of salad and the poured herself another glass of
the sizzling wine. After swallowing down the entire contents in one
gulp, she burped lowly and then jumped to her feet. She had to
focus on her job now and the best way to do that was to get some
rest despite of the memories that would not go away. She then
switched off the lights, moved to the bedroom, slid beneath the
thick soft spreads and then lay there staring at the ceiling. Her
life was at the point where she was should have been dating someone
and looking to start a family. That was how she had planned it out
to be as a child. But she hadn’t dated anyone in years. Her career
had taken over her life and she had no time for engaging in
intimate relationships.

In
all honesty, she had thought about it once or twice but she just
could see herself with a man that would take her just as she was…no
judgments…and love her for her. Knowledge of her mother’s awful
experience had completely deranged her attitude towards men.
Besides, she wasn’t the type for short-term relationships either.
She had a problem with keeping her feelings out of things and she
would not have been able to live with herself if she had fallen for
a man whose feelings did not match her own. She was a sucker for
romance. Yes, she was…even though she did not want to admit it. But
that did not mean that she would go out searching for it. If
romance was to reach her, it would find its way; and she believed
that. In the meanwhile, she kept her head firm on her body, ready
to tackle any assignment that her career might kick in her
direction.

CHAPTER 3

Meagan pulled into the parking lot of the
Palermo Centrale Centro
and then parked as she saw
a huge crowd at the front of the large wide white building. She got
out of the vehicle, straightened her short grey skirt and white
fitted long-sleeved shirt. She glanced down at her high heels and
then retrieved her small brief case before walking towards the
crowd. Upon approaching, she could see numerous security guards,
trying to keep the people out of the walking path as several other
journalists and influential figures entered before her. She showed
her ID to the guard at the door and then stepped inside where a
burst of cold air-conditioning, compared to the temperature
outside, slapped her straight in the face. She released a long sigh
and then walked up to a lady who sat a desk in the hall before the
conference room.

The
lady took her ID, looked at it and then handed her a tag with a
string attached, marked ‘New York’s Finest’, to it to hang around
her neck. The woman then responded in a deep British accent, “Here
you go, Miss Summers. The name of your firm is on your
seat.”

“
Thank you.” She then moved into the room where most of the
journalists were already seated. She could feel many eyes watching
her, both men and women for reasons she did not know, as she
searched for her seat. But she decided to ignore the action as she
slid into her chair in the second row and crossed her legs, the
skirt sliding up automatically. And when she noticed a man, who was
sitting next to her, glance at her bare legs, she tried to pull it
down a little further. He then flashed her a smile and she returned
a disgusted a look.

She
glanced at her watch repeatedly as she noticed the minutes passing
by a lot more quickly than she had realized. It was nine forty-five
and the seats were completely filled now. She looked around as
chatter and low chuckles engulfed the room. It seemed as if
everyone else knew someone except her. She tried to look
preoccupied, looking through her briefcase countless times,
straightening her ponytail a couple and then stared at the table on
the podium before them with three seats behind it. She guessed the
middle seat to be Marco Mussolini’s, the right to be his attorney’s
and the next, his Public Agent.

The
camera crew was set and ready to go at the back and side of the
room. And in a few moments, she saw an elderly man walk up to the
podium and stood before the microphone. He cleared his throat and
then the room got quiet.

“Good Morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, awfully
Italian. “We are here today to meet with a local, a very well-known
Sicilian business man, Marco Mussolini. It is expected that each
and every one of us here today will act in a manner of
professionalism and be at our best conduct as adults. Marco
Mussolini has been tried by a court and the verdict has been ruled
in his favour. You may ask your questions when I welcome him to the
podium. With all that said…
Signor
Mussolini, we welcome you!”

The
audience of journalists applauded as the two men entered the room
and took their seats on the sides of the middle one. Meagan looked
on and then averted her eyes to the door. It was a few moments
until she saw a man enter who was far too gorgeous to be mixed up
in drug-smuggling. Her eyes widened beyond control as her eyes
followed the movements of a person that had the aura of a
businessman who no one could match up to, and the features of a man
that would have any woman weak in her knees. He was about six feet
four inches and his broad shoulders complimented the tailoring of
his black suit. His perfectly carved nose made him all the more
beautiful along with the dark grey smoky eyes filled with hypnosis.
His hair was short and thick with its jet colour, bringing out his
eyes, complimented by natural blue undertones. He was simply
stunning and she gulped as he sat in his seat.

Meagan watched as his attorney whispered something in his ear
and then the speaker continued, “
Signor
Mussolini is taking the first question…” In a second, Meagan
saw everyone else’s arm shoot upwards that she didn’t even bother
to raise hers. “The lady in the pink…” The woman seated directly in
front of her stood, with a pen and notes pad in her
hands.

“
I
am Charlene Bishop from London. Mr. Mussolini, is it true that you
and your younger brother were seen in Libya transporting large
unlabelled packets?”

He
looked to his attorney, who nodded, and then pulled the microphone
nearer to him. “
Sí
. My
brother, Felípe, and I go to Libya countless times therefore it
would have been untruthful to say according to the contrary,
no
?”

“
What were in the packets?”

“Food supplies,” he replied, sitting quite relaxed in his
chair. “We donate food to villages in Libya and Tunisia to those
who need it,
Signora
.’

The
woman nodded and took her seat. Shortly a man stood and threw his
own question. “It has been alleged by a few of your employees that
they saw you packaging these drugs at nights. How true are
they?”

His
chuckle threaded the entire room and the male journalist frowned.
“
Mi scusi,
Signora
!” he said and then wiped the laughter
from his face, the amusement still obvious in his eyes. “We both
know that if that were true, I would not admit it, eh? But, no…it
is not!”

He
then took his seat and then and the speaker asked, “Next
question…who has the next question?”

Meagan looked around and noticed that no one standing so she
slowly got to her feet. She could feel her toes sweating lightly in
her shoes and she had no idea why she felt so nervous. She had
never been shy and this was a first for her. She looked at him and
his gaze pierced hotly through her. She swallowed and then looked
down at her own notes pad. Her lips parted but she felt as if no
words would come out. “And you are?” she heard him say and
straightened her back as she heard a dreadful sigh come from the
person behind her.

“
Uh…Meagan Summers,” she replied. “I’m from New
York.”

“Ahh…an
American
,” he
exclaimed with a smile. “Let me hear what the Americans are eager
to know of me…”

She
nodded and the stared at him. She didn’t have many questions since
the best ones had been asked already so she decided to hit him with
something personal.

“
Uh…Mr. Mussolini, how’s your father?”

The
entire room laughed but his face darkened as if she had struck a
nerve. “What has my father to do with the current matter?” he
questioned in a flat tone. “My father is fine…as far as I
know.”

Her
eyes narrowed at him as he maintained eye contact with her. “You
are not close?”

“My
father and I have issues,
Signora.
Normal family issues. Is that all?” He appeared as if he was
avoiding the question but she allowed it to pass.

“
Is
it true that you were engaged once to a woman in Libya?” The
question startled the room and several journalists started to skip
through their notes as if they were searching for that information
but they were unsuccessful. Meagan had luckily gathered that info
through a personal Facebook friend in Libya, who had said that
Marco Mussolini was engaged to a neighbour of hers. His eyes
darkened and his attorney whispered in his ear.

“
I
was engaged, yes,” he finally remarked.

“
Why
did it end?”

“
Personal differences.” His eyes were cold now.

“
Could it be true that the drug-smuggling act involved that
fiancée?”

“There was no drug-smuggling act!” he snapped.
“
Gente dire
bugie
! I am an
innocent man.”

She
nodded and then took her seat. She could tell that she had gotten
him angry but she was only doing her job. She looked up at him and
then noticed him staring expressionless at her but his eyes were
bitter. Oh, good! She thought. I am already enemies with the man
who could help build my career. She fidgeted in her seat until
someone else took the floor. The conference continued on for about
a half hour until she excused herself to use the restroom. She was
getting a little bored just sitting in there for so long and she
had decided to go stretch her legs. Marco Mussolini was a very
handsome man but that was often the cover for some of the most
ruthless males ever. She had to get beneath his skin deep enough to
make him talk about the accusations people still had against him.
She paced slowly in the lonely hall for a while and then returned
to the room. She saw him looking at her and she took her
seat.

“
As
we all know, Signor Mussolini is a busy man. So, we shall end this
conference meeting and whatever you haven’t heard today, you shall
hear it on your own terms. Good day, ladies and
gentlemen.”

Marco Mussolini and his ‘posse’ left the room and then the
audience of journalists exited behind.

“…
maybe she needed his attention far more than we know…,” she
heard a female voice say behind her, as they moved through the hall
toward the door.

“Who
knows…she’s
American
. I
hear they would do absolutely anything to get a story!”

Meagan spun around at that point and acknowledged the two
women, who stood wide-eyed in shock. “Are you kidding me? Does it
hurt you that much that I have
actually
done my homework? Well,
ex-cuuse
me for being prepared!” And then spun around on her heel and
exited the building as quickly as she could manage to. She frowned
her way to her car and then rest both hands on the top and sighed,
trying to calm herself. How dare them! Her thoughts rang so loudly
in her head that she swore she had said them out loud.

“Signora
Summers?”

“
What?!” she shrieked and then turned around to see a tall
built man standing before in a dark suit and dark sunglasses. “Who
are you?”

“I
work for
Signor
Mussolini…”

She
rolled her eyes and sighed. “What now? He’s sent his bodyguard to
tie me up because…let me see…I’m damaging his image?”

The
man removed his sunglasses and she could see the confusion in his
dark eyes. “No…,” he said. “
Strano
!
Signor
Mussolini would like a word with you.”

She
raised an eyebrow quizzically at him as he gestured to the black
limousine waiting on the curb. “Why should I trust you or him, for
that matter?”

The
man put on his sunglasses and shrugged. “It is your choice,
Signora!” he said. “You are a journalist, no?”

“
What is in it for me?” she said, pointing her chin in the
direction of the vehicle.

“Signor
Mussolini is a very smart but fair businessman. Take it up
with him.”

Well, a few minutes wouldn’t hurt
, she thought and then placed her briefcase in
the car, activating the car alarm before she started walking off.
She then saw the body guard enter a black SUV that had just pulled
up behind the limousine. She looked at it dubiously and reached for
the door handle when the door opened. She sighed heavily and then
slid inside. Right there and then, she was sitting face-to-face
with the Marco Mussolini. For a moment, she felt as if she was
sitting in front of a huge fire. Was it his intensity or was it the
hot stare that he was now giving her? She swallowed and then tried
to keep her legs locked together as she saw his eyes move from her
face to her legs.