It was big and cozy, lined with bookshelves, dominated by a huge masculine desk and leather chair. French balcony doors led outside, but she couldn't see anything in the darkness beyond. If she had to guess, there was probably a well-manicured lawn and garden out there. A roaring fire in the fireplace beckoned to her and she turned towards it holding her hands out. The door closed softly behind her and she looked over her shoulder in time to hear a click.
Raina checked the door, rattling the handle. Locked. She thought about getting angry; she thought about beating on the door and screaming for help. Like the damsel in distress from the movies.
Perhaps it was the gunshot wound, but she didn’t have it in her to throw a fuss. All she could muster at the moment was mild curiosity. Why had she been brought to Savino's home? And why was she locked inside what was probably his office?
Though she was fairly certain that the answers to those questions couldn't be anything good, she also didn't believe she was in any immediate danger. Savino's response to her at the club would have been much different if he'd intended her harm. If he'd hated her on sight, or worse, been indifferent, she’d probably be floating face-down in a canal.
Drawn to the warmth of the fire, she sat in one of two giant leather chairs. She kicked off her shoes, pulled her knees up and tucked her feet underneath her. Her back gave a painful twinge, but she was so relaxed and comfy that she didn't want to move. It seemed strange to feel this at ease in the home of someone she should probably consider an enemy. But she didn't. There was something about the dark cold mansion with the one warm and friendly room. The house projected a kind of loneliness. She couldn't hate lonely.
Raina considered herself an extroverted introvert. She loved being at home alone, reading her books, and working on her graphic art. But she also loved going out. She loved dancing, dating and talking to people. Her work in forgery gave her the opportunity to meet all kinds of people. She got a small peek into the illicit lives of others as she worked on their fake documents. She loved those glimpses and held each interaction close to her heart. She would never betray a customer. Unless that customer was Antonio Savino and he'd had her shot.
Raina's eyes grew heavy as she sat in the chair waiting. What exactly she was waiting for, she didn't know, but she may as well have a snooze while she waited. She pulled a pillow out from behind her back and curled it into her stomach, wiggling in the chair until she found a comfortable position. She fell asleep like that and didn’t wake until the door rattled.
By the time Raina came fully awake Savino was already in the office and striding toward her. She shoved a handful of blonde hair out of her face and blinked sleepily up at him smothering a yawn with her hand.
"Signore Savino," she said softly. "Thank you for bringing me to your home. It's quite lovely."
“Call me Giovanni, please.” He sat in the chair opposite her, crossing one leg over the other and watching her with interest. "My apologies for not warning you about this mausoleum. It’s hardly the proper place to bring a young woman such as yourself, but there was no other safe haven that I could think of. My son has as much access to the city as I do, it wouldn't take him long to find you. In fact, he will find you here."
Raina shivered at that thought. Her fight or flight instinct was telling her to get up and start running, to burst through those French doors, race across the lawn and scale what she suspected was a razor-sharp fence. Of course, she couldn't do that.
“Am I going to be alright here?” she asked unsteadily.
Giovanni ignored her question, instead calling loudly toward the hallway, "Doctor, please come in." A thin and wiry man wearing a sweater over a pair of dark brown pants drew Raina's attention. "Dr. Danilo will examine your injury."
Raina thought about denying them, but Giovanni hadn't exactly given her an option. And it probably wouldn't hurt to get her wound looked at by a real doctor.
Raina attempted to stand, but the doctor put his hand on her shoulder. "No need to get up. I understand the wound is on your back. Lean forward in the chair and point at where it is."
Raina did as he asked, clutching the arm of the chair and leaning against it. She turned her face into the side and rubbed the softness of the chair against her cheek. She pointed at the spot on her back where the bullet hole was.
"It's already been sutured," she told him as he used medical scissors to slice through the gauze wrapped around her middle. She winced as he peeled the wad of gauze from her skin. It hurt like a bitch.
The doctor was quick to reassure her. "The wound is bad enough but seems to have missed everything important. You’re a lucky woman. Whoever sewed you up did an excellent job. The stitches are even, and you’ll only have a slight pucker of the scar."
"There goes bikini season," she said dryly. Raina didn't really give a shit about bikinis or any other kind of beachwear.
At the age of twelve, Raina had kidney transplant, a surgery that cut her wide open at the back. The ensuing scar was big and ugly. She didn't really care about it anymore, but at that young and tender age she'd been horrified by it. She had made sure it was covered at all times. Teenage years were awkward enough without adding to it a major illness and surgery. Raina tried to bury those memories as best she could.
The doctor finished treating and dressing her wound. He smoothed her shirt down her back with clinical economic movements. She respected his cool professional presence; it was like a balm to her after all that had happened that day.
The doctor gave her instructions on how to care for her wound, when the bandages could come off and when the sutures could come out. She listened to him intently, though she had to fight to keep her eyes open. She caught a glimpse of Giovanni watching her thoughtfully. She could almost see the gears in his brain working.
When the doctor excused himself and left the office, closing the door softly behind him, Raina decided it was time to speak plainly. "Why am I here, Giovanni? Not that I don't appreciate your hospitality, but when I came to you for help, this wasn't exactly what I had mind."
He studied her, not saying anything for several long minutes. She didn't interrupt the silence as she suspected he was gathering his thoughts. He seemed like a man that didn't often speak without thinking, a quality that she could appreciate. She had never really been one to speak out of turn, unless she was fired up about something.
"You are an interesting young woman. Your boldness is both infuriating and refreshing, but there is a fine line between the two. I fear your youth could lead to an impetuosity that could get you killed in this world… the underground I mean. And that would be a shame." He seemed to debate with himself on what to say next, perhaps on whether or not to speak his mind. Finally, he nodded to himself and continued, "If anyone else came to me with your demands, your blackmail –"
"Information, not blackmail," she hurried to assure him.
"Do not interrupt me again." His voice rang with steel. She shivered and sealed her lips. "At best I would have given you a few dollars and had you shown back onto the street to deal with the fallout of my son. At worst I would have had you killed myself."
He sat staring at her and when a long enough period of time passed, Raina felt it was safe to speak without being accused of interrupting. "And what made you change your mind? Made you decide to take me on as a charity case?"