Hazel's POV
As the door closes, I smooth my dress, trying to remove the wrinkles caused by Ale's embrace. A blush creeps onto my face, and I can't help but smile. "I'm so happy!" I shout internally, almost jumping in place. Falling for this guy is unbelievable. I've felt safe with him since we first met. There's something about him that draws me in. "Ah, Hazel, looks like you're in love," I mutter to myself.
Excited, I decided to explore Ale's office. I love the midcentury feel of the place; it's old yet cozy and warm. I head to the shelves where books are neatly organized. Running my hand over them, I consider picking one up to read while I wait. Ale's collection is mostly about politics, economy, and marketing, psychology with a side of arts. Although I'm tempted to read more about arts, I've just finished a book and still need to write my report on it. "Wait, I can draft my report now and leave blanks for quotes once Isabella sends my book," I think, then jolt, realizing I forgot to text Isabella and Ale.
Searching for my phone, I found it on the table in front of the couch. I open the texts and type:
Hazel: "Hey girl! So, I'm sleeping over at Ale's and need a favor, please."
Isabella: "Girl, you're rocking it! So, you're losing your V-card tonight?"
Hazel: "Oh, come on, Bella! I didn't lose it yet, but I'll let you know when that happens. And NO, not planning to lose it tonight."
Isabella: "Why? Is he... okay down there?"
Hazel: "Bella, please stop. Gossip is for another time when I'm face to face with you, not via text, OK?"
Isabella: "OK, OK, chill. I know you'll spill the beans eventually. LOL. Anyways, what do you need?"
I typed the list of things I needed for tomorrow and guided Hazel where everything is.
Hazel " Thank you girl! I owe you one!"
Isabella "no problem at all! Just let me know the details. Xoxo"
Hazel " definitely!!! Night night xoxo"
After closing Isabella's text tab, I search for Ale's number. He had typed something on my phone earlier, but I didn't pay much attention. After typing his name multiple times with no results, I check the text feed and open his last message. I type:
Hazel: "I texted Isabella! You just need to go to the dorms and pick them up. Text me when you're there."
About to close his text tab, I notice the contact name "Mio" [Mine]. He changed his name on my phone. I wonder what my contact name would be. Feeling warmth and happiness, I don't remember when was the last time that happened. Especially after my mom died.
I wiped the sadness away. As I'm about to lock my phone, a reminder from my calendar pops up. I'll need to fly back to Texas to see my dad. My mother's death anniversary is next week.
Since the tragedy or let me say the massacre that happened twelve years ago in that ranch and in our villa, my dad became over protective. Maybe because he wasn't there when My mom was shot in the heart protecting me, and I lost my unborn brother that day. That day he lost not only my mother and his son but also his friend and partner's family. My mom was due when she was killed and it left a huge hole in dad's heart. If I wasn't lucky I passed out due to shock and that my father showed up on time, I don't think I would have survived.
That day was the worst day of my life, and I still have nightmares. Since then, my dad has trained me in shooting, knife skills, and some self-defense. I can fight a bit but my delicate small figure can be easily overpowered. But I'm smart and that's what I use to cover for my lack of strength. I'm a good tracker and an expert in Art identification. My dad works with a Mafia group in art smuggling, and my job is to ensure the pieces are legit before shipment. One of the reasons I came to Italy to study here is to be closer to what I love, living and breathing art.
I was moving from place to place all over the world for the past 12 years. My dad believed for my safety, it's better that I'm separated from him. We gather once a year for two to three hours to remember mother and my unborn brother and then part ways. My dad always goes back to the ranch where his friend died. He once told me that he meets the son of that family. He made a promise to his dad to be by his son's side and treat him like one of his. And that's what he has been doing. I honestly never mingled with dad much. He never asks me questions about my life unless about my safety. I help him in his business without even checking who the clients he works with are. I know he worked with some people in Italy. Because that was the only time he refused my request to study here.
I sighed, hating lying to my dad but knowing he wouldn't approve of me being here. I had to fight him to get a scholarship that covered my expenses, so he wouldn't spend a dime on me. He thinks I'm in France, thanks to my proximity, Photoshop skills, and his trust, my secret was kept safe.
He thinks it's risky. But my whole life was risky. " Hazel, you will need to book a flight and write that report" I muttered, clapping my head together and pulling myself out of my thoughts.
I remember that Ale doesn't have a lock on his laptop. So I sat down on his chair and pulled his laptop open. 'I don't think he would mind if I used it, right?' I thought to myself. Well he left me here and I'm sure he won't mind.
I clicked on the desktop, searching for the browser icon to open my Google Docs, when a folder labeled 'Famiglia' [Family] caught my eye.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I opened it, revealing pictures of Ale when he was younger with two adults who resembled him, presumably his mom and dad. They looked like a happy family. 'I wonder where his mom and dad are?' I thought to myself.
I continued clicking through, viewing different pictures of Ale with Andrea, then with Luca, and then with other people. In all the pictures, Ale seemed genuinely happy. It seemed like this folder was about his family, and they seemed to love each other. I couldn't help but wonder what had gone wrong with Matteo and why he hated Ale. As I reached the last picture, I was stunned. My hand paused, and my eyes widened in shock.
I saw my dad hugging Ale, both of them smiling at the camera, along with the two adults I had seen in the first picture. To my surprise, I also saw Franco, my dad's right-hand, in the photo.
"What the…" I almost shouted. My hands trembled, and a myriad of thoughts raced through my mind.
'How does Ale know my dad? Did my dad send Ale? If Ale knows who I am, then my dad knows I'm in Florence. Realization hit me like a wave. I remembered my first encounter with Ale; he knew my name. 'Is Ale my dad's enemy or friend? No, it can't be. In the picture, they look happy, which means they are friends.' My mind was spinning with all these thoughts, and I felt dizzy. "I need to get the hell out of here," I muttered moving towards the door. Just then, I heard a soft knock, and the door opened.