The drive was over in a couple minutes that felt too long and as the car skidded to a stop in front of the departures section of the international French airport, the automatic doors of Scarlett's rolls Royce slid open even faster than usual, as if aware of the urgency in the situation.
A few travelers recognized the face that emerged immediately, suddenly murmuring amongst themselves with fingers pointing as excited shrieks rose amongst the small crowd.
But Kelly was an unstoppable force when it came to her work and her slender hands were sliding black Dior shades over Scarlett's beautiful face, a dark trench coat from Scarlett's own brand following as Raphael got down from the driver's seat to serve as a bodyguard just till they got through the small crowd.
Being a minimalist with very strict morals regarding spending money, Scarlett felt it was useless to hire bodyguards when she could wear a disguise every-time she needed to be in public. But situations like this where emergencies suddenly spring up and there's no time for her to go through her dressing room for baggy khakis, a 90's afro wig and a face mask reminded her how necessary having a reliable security team was.
"When we get back to Paris, hire a security team first things first!" Scarlett whispered furiously to Kelly as they hurried into the airport, very narrowly escaping a fan who was screaming and had almost launched herself at her.
Kelly would have laughed, if the situation hadn't been dire. But it was, and all she could do was nod absent-mindedly as they hurried into the airport.
A few minutes later, they were settling in the lush seats of Scarlett's company jet with the bold acronym of her brand name printed in splatters of black, white and pink paint all over it.
S'J with a stylish curve to it's design stood for Scarlett Jones, the current hottest and trending brand on the list of top fashion brands in the Paris fashion industry. And underneath the name, her mottto was written in white italics.
'For those who wish to become muses of my art'
Majoring in fabric production, style and design, Scarlett's brand was far and wide into the reaches of the fashion world—a trend-setting tag in itself. S'J wasn't just a brand or a company that sold fabrics and clothes. It was a single-handedly built empire that embodied fashion and gave true essence and artistic meaning to style and creativity.
"Welcome aboard, Miss Jones. We're sorry for the slight delay in your flight schedule. We'll takeoff in a few minutes now." A professional, low-pitched baritone French accented voice announced through the speakers, and Scarlett nodded tiredly even though the pilot couldn't see her.
Her stomach was tied in knots, anxiety wracking her nerves, and she felt a warm hand slip into her shaking one. She looked down to see Kelly's slender fingers squeezing hers softly in a silent comforting gesture.
"She's a strong woman. I'm sure she's fighting hard." Kelly offered her boss a small reassuring smile and Scarlett simply nodded in response.
She would never admit it out loud, but Kelly's presence and her words in that moment was everything she needed to hear. She nodded, mouth pressed together tightly as she let her body relax into the expansive crème leather seat.
The flight from Paris to Rome would take no less than three hours and she feared. She feared all that could happen between those hours that suddenly seemed like forever, and she began to regret allowing her Mom stay on her own at a resort in Rome, even if it was just for the duration of her vacation there.
But ever since her Dad abandoned them twelve years ago, Scarlett knew things never remained the same for her mother, so she always tried hard to do all she could to make her happy. Allowing her tour the world and climb mountains just because she was bored too.
But maybe that was a bad idea, she thought. Maybe she should have tried harder to convince her to settle down with her in Paris.
Exhaustion from the day's hectic schedule, along with worry laid a heavy blanket over Scarlett's tensed shoulders, and she was falling asleep before she could think any further about her regrets.
Kelly let out a heavy sigh as she watched Scarlett sleep, genuinely worried about her and the situation they were suddenly thrown into, and what the next three hours would hold once they landed in Rome. But soon enough, her worry gave way to tiredness and she too was joining Scarlett in slumber land.
——
"I hope the flight was enjoyable, Miss Jones. Passez un bon moment à Rome!" Have a nice time in Rome!
The pilot's voice from the speakers shook the two women aboard awake, Kelly's eyes darting around in alarm as she wondered when she'd fallen asleep. She rubbed at her eyes, watching her boss get up and begin hurrying out of the cabin, and she cracked her knuckles. Her joints still ached but lesser than before. The nap had rejuvenated her and let out a yawn and got up, carried Scarlett's purse and hurried after her.
The evening air in Rome was chilly, sending shivers through Kelly's body as they walked down the extended stairs. A black BMW she had arranged awaited then below and Scarlett released a long sigh that turned into cold mist in the chilly evening air.
The hired chauffeur was waiting by the car and he opened the door with a polite bow and waited for Scarlett and Kelly to get in before he closed the door with a dull thud, then briskly made his way to the driver seat.
"Buonassera signora. Douetti porto?" Good evening ma'am. Where shall I take you to? The olive skinned Italian man who seemed to be in his mid-forties asked, gloved hands on the steering wheel, ready to drive off on orders.
Scarlett looked up, her heart beginning to race as the car revved as if gearing up for action.
"All'ospedale americano di Roma immediatamente." She responded, telling the driver to take them to the Rome-American hospital which was where her mother had been reportedly admitted.
She had spoken to the doctor in charge just before they got on the plane and he had assured her her mother wasn't dead, but they needed a legal guardian or family member there as soon as possible to sign her surgery papers.
"Si signorina." The driver nodded in response, feet hitting the accelerator as the car sped off into the night.
"Sometimes I forget you're actually fluent in twenty languages!" Kelly shook her head, surprised at how smoothly Italian rolled off her boss' tongue, and Scarlett gave her a wry smile and then let out a breath, her mind going haywire as they drove along the winding, cobbled streets of Rome, getting closer to their destination with each turn.
She had used to learn different languages for fun back when she was in high school, and now that small hobby was playing a key role in her career and her life in general.
For a brief minute, she let her mind reflect on the fact that Rome was the home of art. Its historic churches, museums and works by great artists, the likes of Giambologna, Galileo and Rafaello Michelangelo. And the art-loving side of her wondered how nice it would have been to be here on holiday.
The Pantheon was one place she'd always dreamed of visiting but never had time to. The secrets hidden in its domes and tombs and beautifully carved niches had always been intriguing to her, but they were on an important mission tonight, one that didn't involve touring the ancient city and revealing entombed secrets.
And as soon as the car skidded to a stop in front of the grand, Rome-American hospital, Scarlett was pushing the door open immediately without waiting for the driver to park properly. All rational thoughts out the window, she marched up the steps, towards the hospital entrance with a racing heart while Kelly hurried to catch up behind her.
The automatic glass doors slid open and she went in immediately, frantic dark eyes concealed behind the shades Kelly had slipped onto her face to "avoid unnecessary attention" scurrying over the number of people in the reception that had suddenly frozen mid-action upon her entrance.
Friday nights at the hospital were usually either super boring or super busy with emergencies rolling in left and right. A personality like Scarlett's barging into the hospital lobby in an ensemble of heels that announced her presence like she was the rightful queen of England, with dark shades that covered even darker eyes, a grey trench coat that looked like it was more expensive than their head doctor's monthly salary, and a lingering hypnotic rosy scent that trailed behind her with every step she took wasn't an everyday occurrence.
Scarlett's eyes finally fixated on a petrified looking nurse who seemed to be in her mid-thirties, sitting behind the reception desk with her hands resting on a keyboard and awed eyes fixed upon Scarlett—as everyone else's were--and she marched up to her, a steely determination echoing in the wake of her stilettos with every click-clack they made on impact with the disinfected tiled floors.
"A woman was brought in, roughly around three hours ago. She should be registered under the name, Barbara Jones. Where is she?" Scarlett demanded as she came face/to-face with the woman behind the computer, too panicked to waste any time trying to be nice and polite.
Those two words didn't exist in her dictionary anyways, and she gave a brief glance to the nurse's name tag that read, Martina Russo.
The nurse blinked rapidly, her throat bobbing up and down as she swallowed. She seemed to have been overwhelmed by Scarlett's demeanor, and her awe slowly subsided as the words she'd heard clicked.
"Chi pensa di essere questa puttana nera maleducata?!" Who does this rude black bitch think she is?! She spat, eyeing Scarlett up and down as her lips turned down distastefully.
A few of the other nurses laughed behind their palms, quickly looking away when Scarlett's arctic gaze swept over them one by one. Then she took a breath, fingers reaching up to pull off the dark shades covering her even darker eyes, and then she leaned in until there was only a few inches of space left between hers and the nurse's face.
"Martina," she began in a low, bone chilling voice, deliberately putting stress on her name. "Questa rozza puttana nera può spezzarti a metà in un secondo. Quindi, se sai cos'è meglio per te, mi porteresti subito nel reparto di mia madre. Questa maleducata puttana nera americana può spezzarti la vita in metà in un secondo. Quindi, se sai cosa è meglio per te, mi porteresti nel reparto di mia madre, subito." Martina, this rude black bitch can snap you in half in one second. So, if you know what's best for you, you'd take me to my mother's ward, right now.
Martina's eyes grew so big, they were almost the size as saucers. Her cheeks flushed deep red in mortification and disbelief at how Scarlett could understand Italian, let alone speak it so fluently as if she'd lived all her life in the city.
"S-si! Si Signora! Yes ma'am, right away! Please come with me!" her voice shook as she slipped out of her seat and hurriedly made her way towards Scarlett who now had a satisfied smirk on her lips.
"Good."
Disclaimer:
I am not at all fluent in Italian. So, please if there are any foreign readers who speak any of the foreign languages I use throughout this book, please point out any mistakes you come across and do correct it too. I mostly rely on Google translate for these things and we all know Google can be a bitch at times😂 Thank you❤