36. Keep Your Mouth Shut

Date Written: March 21, 2019

Date Posted: January 4, 2020

Characters: Veneziano

Summary: A young secretary finds herself in a dangerous situation with only the Italian representative for help.

Notes:

Really now, it was probably not her fault for getting herself stuck in this mess. But—! The American economy was rapidly going down in shambles, she needed the money to pay back her student loans, and to top it all off, it would give her an edge when it came to job hunting. How could she, above average student of her class with ambitions in global affairs, say no?

Sure, she was required to leave the country (she always wanted to travel).

Sure, she had to brush up on her French and Spanish to appear somewhat competent (her mother was Mexican and she had friends in French class in high school).

And sure, she had to babysit some diplomat who looked way too young to hold that position (at least he was different from those other bigwig bureaucrats).

In all honesty, it was equal parts boring and downright terrifying.

Boring: she had to be present for whatever meetings she had accompanied her charge on.

Terrifying: the meeting was held with only eight people and whatever interns the delegates had brought. That is… only two other interns, then.

Now, she knew she was competent; Mr. Jones had told her so and her dedication had come to high praise. However, she couldn't help but feel small when compared to the other interns and the delegates. Especially the delegates. How each of them attained… such a high position was something she can barely fathom.

A quick conversation with the intern from Japan and one from Canada revealed that they, too, felt a little overwhelmed by how young they looked. When she had first received the job, she expected to see a grizzled old man, fifty at the youngest. To see a bouncy ball full of energy that came with humorous dad jokes was a surprise when it came to the American delegate.

Her companion, so to speak, was one Alfred F. Jones. What 'F' stood for, she did not know nor did she care to find out—frankly, she was too scared to even ask. His enthusiasm was too overwhelming, like the copious amounts of frosting that can be found on any pastry in America.

When compared to the rest of the delegates, he was certainly the best and worst that America had to offer. He was creative and brilliant, but his innovative genius was eclipsed by his brash and loud personality. Time and time again, she had to wonder how he came across the job. He looked like he came straight from university! Not only that, but he also acted so… so completely America that she sometimes (most of the time) she would wish that he would just sit down and shut up! Geeze, it was like babysitting a twelve year old with a god complex sometimes.

He was just too stereotypically American to the point where she received second hand embarrassment just from his presentations and speeches.

However, much to her horror and confusion, the rest of the G8 delegates were all quite the stereotypes from their respective cultures.

(She really didn't want to get into that. They were a headache and a letdown unto themselves.)

Regardless, it was an interesting experience.

After one of those summits that required the presence of all eight of the delegates, something nagged at the back of her mind. She had just been in the middle of getting a late night dinner with her charge when she realized that she had forgotten something back at the meeting hall. While she wasn't that bad a secretary (in fact, she might say she was exemplary), she was far from perfect. Cursing her forgetfulness, she clumsily apologized to Mr. Jones ("Dude, call me Al!") and hurried back.

If she remembered correctly, she had forgotten a crisp, manila envelope with several legal documents detailing… what exactly? She thought to herself while she hurried back. It had something to do with the environment—

Crash!

With a flurry of papers and flailing arms, she had just narrowly avoided kissing the ground when she felt a pair of arms encircle her waist. Upon opening her eyes, she found herself face to face with—

"Ciao, bella!"

Oh, it was him. When she had first been introduced to the Italian representative, she had expected… well. Honestly, she didn't know what to expect. Italian stereotypes were well known all over the world. They were relatively happy, easy going, womanizing, etc. and well… he was all of those things. She didn't know what to do after he had dropped a kiss on her hand and complimented her beauty, but she thought about giving the Italian something close to the glare that Mr. Jones had been sending the Italian if he got too close.

Furthermore, she had been expecting a more traditional Italian name. Like, you know, Francesco, Giusseppe, Giovanni. Feliciano was really Italian sounding, but it was far from the usual fare that she remembered from old Italian movies and such. And wasn't Vargas a Spanish name?

And—

"Bella, are you all right? You seem faint."

Despite her initial feeling of annoyance, she immediately plastered on a tense smile before answering him.

"O-oh! I'm doing great!" She hurriedly moved out of his hold and started to gather her fallen papers. Much to her relief, the Italian dropped down to one knee as well and began scooping up her fallen materials in earnest. With his help, she managed to grab all the documents in record timing.

She thanked him, but this time, the smile on her face was far more genuine. "I'll be going now. Again, thanks!"

A mischievous sparkled gleamed in his eyes. "Already tired of me?" At her bemused glare, the Italian simply laughed before waving her away—a distinct invitation for her to leave, one that she gladly took. "Very well, have a pleasant evening."

And with that, she was gone and back on the clock.

The thing about these conferences was that there were always a lot of people milling about in these circles. However, once the head of the meeting adjourned everyone, there was always a blank space that was left behind. It was eerie because there used to be a lot of people milling about—to see the overwhelming expanse of the empty meeting hall was quite… disturbing to say the least. After a few seconds of surveying the space, she was about to turn to leave when—

Suddenly, she was yanked by the hair and an enormous gloved hand covered her mouth. Her first instinct was to scream and thrash in this person's hold. Her second instinct was to immediately kick her legs behind her; she had a feeling that her assailant was male. However, that did little to disrupt the attacker from stopping. If anything, his hold grew ever tighter and then—

A cloth was shoved forcefully onto her face.

Desperate to escape, she continued to writhe in her attacker's hold until…

Everything…

Fell…

Into…

Darkness…

.

.

.

She awoke to find herself disoriented and groggy. Her throat ached with thirst while her head was throbbing with a migraine. As she tried to move about in her position, she found that her wrists and ankles were bound to a chair. Further analysis revealed that she was not just simply sitting in the dark, there was a blindfold around her eyes.

This was not good.

What had happened?

"H-hello?" She called out cautiously. "Is anyone there?"

There was a shuffling noise and a squeak of surprise.

"You're the nice lady from before."

Oh crap. It was the Italian representative.

"Yeah, I'm the secretary for Mr. Jones." Her voice rapidly became more shrill and fast paced the more she kept talking. "What's going on? What are you doing here?" What am I doing here, she thought. She dared not think of the word kidnapped. It was much too soon and she would rather not think about that as of the moment. Now was not the time for panicking. "I-I can't see anything."

She hated to admit it, but her heart was practically leaping over her throat at the sudden silence.

Was she alone again?

"P-please—" She winced at the way her voice cracked from the strain of tension; she wasn't made for situations like these. "—I can't—"

"Ah, belladonna… I want you to trust me." His voice, while airy as usual, had an edge of steel that caused the woman's throat to go dry from fear. She had not known the Italian representative for long, but the way he sounded… it was not natural. It was like watching a dull blade—a toy knife, maybe—become sharpened into a dangerous tool. "I need you to keep quiet and to remain calm."

Despite herself, the woman found herself cracking up in hysterics. "Keep calm…. I am keeping calm and—"

There was a sound of a door banging in their close vicinity. At the sound, the woman fell silent and she could hear the sound of a whistle being blown. This was it. Her kidnappers were here.

She was going to die.

She was going to die.

She was going to die.

There was no way she was going to get out of this place alive. After all, she was nothing more than a glorified secretary. The Italian representative on the other hand, she was betting that he was far more valuable than her. He was a politician and he was European, two things that were going to get him out of this place alive.

To her surprise, the Italian representative spoke. "What do you want from me? Leave the lady alone and just talk to me. No need for violence."

Gone was the airy voice from before. Instead, there was something steely and something… more to his voice than what she was used to hearing from the Italian. Again, there was that feeling that something was off—like the Italian was not supposed to sound like that.

Was his change in personality a good or bad omen?

She was scared and frightened. Should she speak up? Should she let the Italian talk for the both of them? There seemed to be no choice because the Italian began speaking up again.

"Is it because I'm a Nation?"

The woman had no time to process what she had just heard before a low voice, of the baritone sort, spoke up.

"That remains to be seen. You're a cowardly pick among the rest of the bunch."

"If it weren't for the fact that I was tied up, I would—" His English devolved into Italian, a language that the woman was not aware of.

For a time, their kidnapper and the Italian conversed in the musical language before the woman found herself with racing thoughts in her head.

Was this it? Was this the end of her? Of the both of them?

She had barely lived life; she was barely out of university!

And then—

There was the sound of a scuffle happening. Before she could cry out in fear, she found her blindfold being taken out from her face and she found herself staring eye to eye with gold brown eyes. They were kind and nurturing as he asked her questions about her health.

For a moment, all she could do was nod dumbly as the Italian loosened her bonds and helped her out of her chair.

"You did a wonderful job, belladonna." He paused before settling his warm hands on her face so that she was stuck only looking up at him. "Now here's the tricky part. I want you to keep your eyes on me. Do not look around, eyes only on me."

The woman was a little irritated, but the scuffle… it sounded horrible, as if it were a symphony of bones breaking and a body thudding on the floor, probably lifeless.

In the end, she soundlessly nodded her head and began to follow his lead.

She was definitely not paid enough for this job.