His Accidental Personal Assistant

Chapter 21: N O ~ T I M E

There they sat among the velvet chesterfield sofas, indulging in bottles of liquor that could drown a man’s bank account. Together, they clashed their drinks in victory in a noise that echoed across the room.

Mr. Castillo scanned the club as he entered, and swiftly, his eyes met Mr. Genovesi’s. Even from the corner of the club, he could see that unhidden deceit that creeped within him.  The whole Genovesi family was present accompanied by a few of Mr. Genovesi’s businessman drinking themselves blind. Right beside him was his “right hand man”, Mr. Pirozzi. He never left his side. He was the C.F.O of their company, Faustini Manufacturing, and often headtailed their dealings with Mr. Fiorentino. Ironically, due to how poorly he handled money, he had left both the Genovesi and the Castillo family in a pit of debt.

Most notable of the group was of course the family. Mr. Genovesi's oldest brothers, Sergio and Vittorio, and their wives Marcella and Elena, were sitting on the chesterfield sofa, wearing impenetrable scowls and glares. Lucia, his youngest sister sat solemnly, away from the chaos of the crowd.

His nieces and nephews were all scattered amongst the dance floor, tripping over their own feet. Sergio and Marcella’s children, Marco and Sofia, had busied themselves at the bar and chugged drinks down their throats. Although they were a mess, Mr. Castillo made no mistake of underestimating them. They had been raised by the hand of pure ruthlessness. He had known and loved one. He had faced the side that no one had gotten to see.

The whole family seemed to be in check except for Mr. Genovesi’s own children. The room was filled with faces he’d recognized, but still he could not find the person he yearned to see. Brie was nowhere to be found. Mr. Castillo hadn’t caught wind of Brie’s oldest brother, Aurelio either.

Out of the array he saw the ireful, scathing eye of Mrs. Genovesi. Her gaze held a sharp chill that seemed to penetrate those unfortunate to meet it. Draped in navy blue silks that hugged her figure and bedazzled jewels that hung on her neck, she hid her ruthlessness behind her mask of beauty. 

Despite the smiles and pleasantries that she exchanged with those around her, there was an unmistakable unnerving aura in the air whenever she was near. It was as if the very atmosphere recoiled in fear at the sight of her. 

Mr. Castillo swiftly shifted his attention to Mr. Genovesi. Catching his gripping, unearthing stare made Mr. Castillo’s skin grow sickly cold. He sat surrounded by others like him. Dim, warm light bathed their scheming faces as they carelessly laughed.

In the midst of the gathering, the man of the hour, Mr. Toscani, held court at the center of a huddled group of people. His slurred words came out like gospel to them. Mr. Toscani had won another election and of course, like always, required an extravagant party.

Those that busied themselves on the dancefloor all shuffled along to the music in erratic yet stiff and stagnant jolts—as if their arrogance was at odds with their desire for freedom.

Suddenly, he felt a firm grasp around his arm. He snapped his head toward the person beside him. Just below his shoulder, a petite woman hung on him. She wore a fitted black dress that effortlessly draped off her body and had brunette hair that was elegantly swept into a slicked back bun. Mr. Castillo swiftly recognized her as Mr. Toscani’s oldest daughter, Angelica.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she remarked, her voice cutting through the din of the party.

“Good evening, Ms. Toscani,” he offered with a courteous nod.

Suddenly, she began pulling him along as she walked

“Oh don’t call me that! Just call me Angelica.”