Between a Rock and a Hard Place

2 | Competition: Begin

Two months at the job passed with the usual disorientation that follows joining a new workplace. Taking inventory was easy - relaxing even - but the scrubbing and sorting left Olivia's arms sore at the end of each day.

It was the other conditions of her life that haunted her with the reality that she was a prisoner: Luca monitored her every move from nine to five, and Sam kept watch of her in the apartment for the hours of the day that remained. Her prepaid, second-hand flip phone had been the first of her possessions Sam had confiscated, and he didn't let her leave the flat alone, either.

And so with faith that this whole experience would go by more smoothly if she just 'rolled with it', she found ways to relax during down-times. On days when she had a light workload, she passed the time by talking to Luca. When his torso was buried under a car (as it usually was), she often found herself making dry banter with his steel-toed work boots. "If you make so much money, why can't you afford a shirt?"

Luca chuckled and rolled out from under the car he'd been working on. He arched his eyebrows. "Feeling playful, eh? Watch it, or I'll find some way to give you more work back there." His smile - refreshing and devious across his perfect teeth - made Olivia bite her lip when he turned away.

"No - it's a serious question. Well, kind of. Sam doesn't seem as loaded as the mob guys in the news. I know the cost of real estate is always on the up-and-up, but an apartment? Don't all mobsters own a mansion somewhere? And you work a nine-to-five."

"Right, because the news always tells the whole story. Caporegimes and the Dons are the loaded guys. For soldatos - footsoldiers - like Sam, profits vary. He's still new to the game, and nowhere near as heartless as he should be besides. Sure, we don't have money now, but we get the parts cheap. When the buyer pays us, and then after we give Mr. Marino's show-of-appreciation cut, we'll be swimming in profits. Until then, we have to be patient. But as for why I'm still here?" He grunted, and something under the car clanked. "Sam's the made one. I'm just an associate."

She squinted at his stained boots. "'Made'?"

"Yeah, 'made', 'man of honor'. That's what we call a guy who's made his vows to a family to abide by their laws of loyalty - the Omertà. It's kind of a big deal." Once more, Luca emerged on the board from under the car. Veins shifted on his thick forearms as he searched for a tool. A red gash - about two inches long and stretched diagonally across his toned chest - caught Olivia's eye. "Wait, you're hurt."

Luca looked down and noticed the injury for the first time. "This? It's nothing."

Olivia moved toward him with concern. "Come on, let me see it. It could be bad."

"Were you looking for an excuse to touch me? You could've just asked." He teased. The cut didn't bother him in the slightest - he'd been meaning to get up and stretch out his neck anyway. He rose to his feet and rested against a trolley. When she leaned in closer, he took the opportunity to study her serious expression. With Luca, women would play hard-to-get every now and then, but Olivia wasn't playing at anything. She simply wasn't interested. "You got a boyfriend?"

Olivia glared up at him. Luca had been making moves on her all week, so it wasn't like she couldn't see awkward conversations like this one creepily lingering on the horizon. "Yes, actually. I do."

That was a lie. They both knew that. Luca squinted playfully as he surveyed her. "Then he is probably wondering why you haven't called him since Sam smashed your phone. It'd break my heart if you were missing him. We can go back to my place and talk about how torn up you are about it."

Her jaw dropped, and she scanned his face for any sign of regret. Finding none, she decided to create one. "Is that so? Sorry, where can I find the HR department?" She dragged the saturated alcohol swab across his wound.