Salvador

Chapter 2

Mona

When Salvador finally left, I felt like I could breathe again.

I was sure I could hide out here for a long time so long as I predominantly stayed in this room whenever I was in this building.

I haven't slept in two days. Since arrival, men have been flooding in with the tiniest of problems. A man came in just before Salvador, with a small paper cut. His friend snickered at him from the entrance of the room. I'm convinced they're all coming in to get a look at "the new girl."

I am the only woman in this entire building after all. The testosterone is overwhelming and I'm desperate to escape, and go to my new apartment in the city, and unpack and nap and eat. But mostly nap.

I pack my bag with the dirty change of nurse clothes from yesterday to wash, my keys, my wallet and more.

I hear someone clearing their throat at the door and I turn around. It's Thiago, the younger brother of the big boss. He's ordered me not to call him Senhor , but it's just the right thing to do towards someone who's going to be my boss for...who knows how long.

"Senhor." I greet him, swinging my bag over my shoulder.

"I told you not to call me that." He replies with a smile, his voice thick with that Portuguese accent.

"I apologise," I say, but I doubt I'll stop calling him Senhor, I'd feel uncomfortable calling him by his name. "Is there something I can help you with?" I ask.

He nods. And I look at him inquiringly. "My brother won't stop asking questions about you," he says walking towards me, his eyes meeting mine, his large figure looming over me, though still not as large as Salvador "what did you do to him, that he's become so taken with you?" He asks me with a wide grin.

I smile back slightly and shrug tiredly. I would be more interactive if i wasn't so exhausted. Silence fills the air as I fail to answer his question.

"May i go home for the weekend Senhor?" I ask him. It feels weird, him being my boss. He's only 18. Four years younger than me. Yet, I'm below him in the hierarchy here.

"As long as you stop calling me Senhor." He smiles. He's also a very smiley person, I like that about him, he has a warm presence, unlike his older brother. "Should i drive you?" He offers. I'm so used to denying help from others that I almost say no. But my sleep deprived brain would be no use to me on the road.

I hand him my car keys and he chuckles with happiness. His companionship reminds me of my younger brothers, and my heart aches. But the feeling quickly goes away when Thiago swings his arm around me.

***

"You can't stay at my apartment." I say as I unlock the door.

"Please." He continues to beg. Poor boy, he must hate being around that narcotic, toxically masculine atmosphere all the time.

"Please, Belle." He calls me by the nickname he gave me on the car drive here, when asking me different Italian words and stumbling on the word for Beauty. I insisted that he doesn't call me that but he's too stubborn.

I set my keys and bag down on the kitchen counter as Thiago, almost instinctively, shuts and locks the door. "You don't have to worry about me as a man." He says, the wording is vague, but I understand. And I think I know why, but jumping to conclusions is dangerous.

"Why's that?" I ask him as I walk past to sit on the sofa. He thumps down next to me and picks up the remote, switching through the limited channels of my small television.

"I have a boyfriend," He states, his cheeks flushed slightly, smiling uncontrollably. He looks over at me from the TV "please don't tell Salvador." His voice softens.

"You can trust me." I reassure him with a smile.

I feel him become more relaxed, and in turn I relax too. He's found a Brazilian soap opera, and we're both hooked.

As he slopes further and further down into comfort, my eyes catch the gun held at his waist. And for a moment, fear strikes my heart, because I remember who I'm really dealing with. Despite him being only 18, and a lovely young man, he's still a killer for a living.

However, it's as if my brain reminds me just who I am, putting me back in my place, telling me that I'm no better than anyone I'm surrounded by here. I'm a killer, I'm a dealer, that's who I am, it's where I'm from. Who am I to judge these people?

***

It's the evening now. The setting sun is shining though a window into my sitting-room and kitchen. Outlining Rio beautifully. Thiago had to leave in the afternoon. Probably to torture someone, to sell some drug or to meet up with his boyfriend.

I'm so tired, but at the same time, I'm utterly restless. I'm in the middle of unpacking my stuff and I don't think I can go to sleep before everything is finally stowed away neatly.

I've come across the box that's filled with pictures in frames, photo albums, old diaries. And going through them all, I can't help but feel bitterly nostalgic.

In my hands I hold a photo of my father and my mother. My dad looks so serious, as he always does. And my mum contradicts him, with that bright, welcoming smile. I miss them both.

My mum died 10 years ago, when giving birth to my youngest brother. My father never remarried. He loved her with all his heart and soul, like no drug lord has ever loved before. And he continues to always wear only black to this day, always mourning her death.

My father, Roberto Capriotti, stands enormously tall in every picture I find. He's a big man, able to intimidate everyone he comes across. His eyes are intense and angry, and he hardly ever smiles for the camera.

I roll my eyes when I find a picture of him and I. He's holding me, resting me on his side and leaning his head on mine. And shockingly, I see a small smile formed on his lips. Probably because my mother took the picture. She's the only one that could ever make him smile like that.

Maybe I shouldn't have left. Maybe I was overreacting.

But I can't take over the family business like he wants me to. I can't rule the empire he and his father and his father's father have created. I'm not ready, I don't know if I'll ever be ready. He doesn't want my brothers to do it, he always tells me, he wants it to be me.

I came here despite the fatal dangers. How selfish and cruel of me. But, I can't bare it anymore. I'm living life here, In this cartel, with my name out in the open, as if I don't want to live anymore. I don't want to live anymore. Let them kill me.

But I cannot take over the Capriotti mafia.