Secrets of the Harts

5 Jan 2010
I had made myself a cup of coffee, settled into the chair next to the bed and was watching Dylan sleep when he woke up. He didn’t say anything and I didn’t divulge how warm I had felt when I woke up, finding our limbs entwined.

Instead, we both stayed quiet. After about five minutes of unnerving silence and watching him watch me, I finally broke and said, “Can we pretend that yesterday didn’t happen?”

“Do you think it’s really possible to forget about it?” He sat up and I noticed that he was shirtless again.

My face flushed, remembering how I had gotten a feel of those abs. I forced my gaze to his forehead. “We can try. I mean, if we don’t, we’ll never know.”

“You think its okay to forget about your father being part of the Mafia?” Dylan’s voice sounded tightly controlled, impatience creeping in.

I took a sip of the coffee, trying to disregard how the bitterness of it tasted like Dylan’s anger. “No, not that part, I know I wouldn’t be able to forget even if I wanted to. The other part.”

“Fine, whatever.”

My face twitched slightly before I forced a gulp of coffee down my part. His nonchalance hurt but I didn’t want to look in his eyes to find out if he was lying. “This is the best-”

“Shut up, princess. Just shut up and let me think.” Dylan rubbed the back of his neck and I could see him biting his lower lip. “So what do you want to do about your dad?”

He called me princess, not Kristen. And I still couldn’t figure out the significance of it, only that he seem to mock me whenever he called me princess. “Nothing yet; let’s find your father’s killer first.”

He shot me a strange gaze which I pretended not to notice. If Dad had been in the mafia, Calloway would’ve known. She had adopted me either in spite of it or because of it, most likely the latter. It was probably the reason why I was part of the Agency. I knew what I wanted to do about it—cause irreparable harm to the Agency but including Dylan Fuller in my plans would be tempting fate.

“Okay, fine. So what info do you have for me?”

I took off my left earring and handed it to him. Then I took a thumb drive sized device out of my bag. “There is a really tiny microchip in my earring. See the hole in this? It fits inside perfectly. This is the last piece I have. Everything else is already with him. But I think this is the most important part of the puzzle. Like you said, he really wanted this.”

To his credit, Dylan had stared at me for a few moments instead of grabbing my earring like I thought he would. He even managed, “Thanks.”

Then he took the earring and my device, turning on his laptop. I proceeded to drown myself under the sheets, hiding as always.



“Wake up, princess,” he whispered into my ear.

I smacked his face and rolled away from him. I don’t think I was ready to speak to him yet. “No.”

“It’s important. Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!”

I groaned and sat up, accidentally slapping him in the face again. Trying to not to laugh at the red marks developing on his face, I asked, “What’s happening?”

“I read everything.” He rubbed the sore spot on his face. “I read everything and I’m completely confused. See for yourself.”

I scanned through the documents. It seemed as though Sean Fuller hadn’t intended for his heir to really inherit everything. Instead, he was going to leave his empire to Dylan. He just wanted someone capable around, to assist him and later on, Dylan. But Sean wasn’t foolish enough to share this plan with anyone, he kept it to himself. In addition, he took a large sum of money and placed in a trust fund for Dylan monthly in case things with the heir soured. Eventually, all the Mafia’s profits ended up in the trust fund. He also hired lawyers to make his will ironclad, he made Vic swear that he wouldn’t betray Dylan Fuller under any circumstances and he never ever told anyone where the trust fund was hidden.

But he tried to take every precaution so that things wouldn’t sour. Sean told the heir that he completely trusted him (although he didn’t). He even left the heir to plan the big events with Vic. Everyone seemed to be impressed with this new man; even Sean. But he wasn’t impressed enough to leave everything to him; especially not when he had a son.

“I don’t understand why he wrote down everything.” He collapsed on the bed, rubbing his face. “He’s usually not like this.”

“He was being careful, making sure that you’ll have control of the Mafia. Money equals power. That and how you had your father’s backing.” I cleared my throat, uneasy with the idea of Sean Fuller being a family man. “I bet the file was encrypted with some kind of code, wasn’t it?”

“Well, yeah. But it wasn’t that hard to crack. It was something we made up-” He stopped suddenly, comprehending.

“Now we know why he wanted it. He wanted to find out where all the money went,” I added, awkwardly.

“I don’t think that’s the only reason.” Dylan took the laptop from me and moved many pages down the last document. “As you can tell, he was a little bit of a control freak.”

The past tense seemed to resound in the air before Dylan spoke again. “There’s actually a small clue as to who the heir actually is. He made reference to him.”

I nodded my heart racing. This was what we had teamed up for. We were finally going to find the heir.

He handed me the laptop again and I stared at the letters on the screen, certain that I was mistaken. I blinked but the letters remained in the same order. The heir’s initials were ONC. It would’ve been Owen Nicolas Harrison, except for the last initial.

But there were so such thing as coincidences, not anymore.

“It’s Owen.” My hands shook and I placed the laptop in my lap. How many of these surprises could I take before breaking? What else had been hidden from me about the people around me? “Owen Nicolas. His last name doesn’t match, but it’s probably him.”

Dylan frowned, clearly unhappy with this information. But he couldn’t be as upset as I was. “You’re saying that your ex-boyfriend who’s supposed to be one of the best Agents was Mafia. Are you sure about this?”

I wondered why Dylan could try to be rational. But then I remembered. He was going to kill the man behind this. He was just didn’t want to kill the wrong man. “I…I don’t know.” I grabbed my trembling hands. It was time to confess everything. “I’ve actually been talking to him; he gave me this.” I took out the phone. “He wanted to make sure that I was fine.”

“Bullshit,” Dylan said, quietly but with force. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”

“New Year.”

He stared at the silver device in my hands before grabbing it away from me and taking it apart.“That bastard probably has a tracking device inside.”

“But I never talked to him too long to make sure that he couldn’t track us-”

“Princess, he has the Agency’s resources. He doesn’t need too much time. We’ve got to go now.” Dylan dropped the phone, or rather the bits of it, into the bin. Even then he looked like he wanted to set it on fire to be sure. But he dragged his heated gaze up to me. “What are you waiting for? Start packing.”

I picked up the clothes I had scattered about the room and asked, quietly, “Where are we going?”

“Don’t know yet.”

Trying not to let my hurt appear on my face, I dragged the suitcases out. Dylan knew exactly where we were going. He just didn’t trust me enough to let me know. While we had never trusted each other completely, it would be insane to do so, we did trust to an extent. Maybe I did deserve losing it; but I couldn’t say that it didn’t sting.

“Hey, take this, princess.” I caught the phone, a new one, realising that I had destroyed more than Dylan’s trust. “When I couldn’t find you yesterday, I thought that it’d be good to get you one so I can find in case anything happens. I must’ve been stupid though since you’ve already had a phone. If you really needed me, you would’ve called already.”

I wanted to tell him that I did need him yesterday; that he had done exactly what I needed but I knew that he wouldn’t believe me. So I didn’t say anything, my fingers tightening around the phone.

We didn’t say anything else to each other for the rest of the day. Instead, we packed silently and Dylan bought us tickets out of Sicily for tomorrow.

6 Jan 2010
None of us ate much for breakfast this morning. My stomach had been tight with apprehension when I realised the full extent of the trouble I had landed us in. The memory of puking whatever I had managed to eat on my last flight didn’t help to calm my nerves.
We left the hotel quickly and got to the Catania Airport taking the shortest route.

When we were just about to check in though, my new phone rang, startling me.

“Pick it up.”

I glanced at Dylan. But he seemed calm, not at all like he would if it was Owen on the other line. No, I wasn’t over-thinking it. If Owen was as ruthless as Dylan had said and if he had the Agency’s resources, he could have easily gotten my new number. Judging by Dylan’s confidence though, it seemed like it was a secure line he’d gotten for me.

I hesitantly picked up the call. “…Hello?”

“Kris, I’m so glad you picked up!”

There was a beat of silence when I placed this voice. Alessandra Zeta…my mother.

“I know you’re still angry with me, and you’ve every right to be, but I’m not a liar. I didn’t lie about your father. And I’m truly sorry that I couldn’t help to make the truth easier for you.” She sounded anxious, as though she had a feeling that I would hang up on her. “I know it’s hard to take it in.”

But I didn’t because I knew that feeling. It was how I had felt around Calloway all the time. It wasn’t right for her to feel like this around me. “I’m sorry too; about how I reacted yesterday. I know it wasn’t your fault and that…that you weren’t lying. But I guess I snapped. I shouldn’t have.”

“Thank you. There’s something else you should know though.” Her voice dropped lower, like she was worried about being overheard. I had to strain to hear her over the buzz of conversations and goodbyes. “You and that boy should leave Sicily immediately.”

I felt completely sick in my gut now but still felt compelled to ask, “Why?”

“A man came over yesterday after you left. Tall, broad-shouldered and well built. Hazel eyes, dirty blond hair. He claimed to be from the American Mafia, the new heir. He apologized about stealing the big deal from Dante, claimed that he had no idea about it until it was over, paid 100,000 American dollars to show his sincerity. He was hoping that the Cosa Nostra could settle their differences with the Americans and work together, to make more money. I was watching all this skeptically, thinking that Sean Fuller wouldn’t have handed his business to a stranger. It was not like the man.”

I watched as a man came up to Dylan and chatted with him casually. I felt like warning him about what my mother was telling me but I was worried about drawing too much attention to myself. Shouting at him across people would certainly do that.

“The American asked about you. He claimed to be your fiancé and said that he heard from you that I was your mother. He said you had been planning to find me. But your ex-boyfriend had kidnapped you, foolishly bringing you to Sicily thinking that he would not have dared follow. Your ex-boyfriend had been under the impression that he wanted to help you fulfil your wishes. So he asked if I had seen you. But I was suspicious and so I said nothing, only asked about your wellbeing. He gave me noncommittal answers and then turned to your uncles for help. He’s providing another 100,000 for them to find you. You need to leave the country right now.”

The man inserted a syringe in Dylan’s neck. From the way Dylan slumped after the injection, I knew that it was tranquiliser.

“Too late,” I whispered.

“What do you mean, Kris?”

We were too late.

I hung up on my mother. There was a lot of things I could have done at the moment but I didn’t do any of them. That was because I suddenly felt something digging into my back, something round not unlike a gun barrel. And then I heard Owen say, his breath tickling my neck causing goosebumps, “Now don’t move a muscle, Kristen, or it won’t be just you I’ll hurt. I know how you hate getting innocents involved.”