A/N: I swear, this was the chapter that needed the most rewrites so far! I wanted it to be just right.
Anyway, I know everyone is longing for these two to meet but it won't be for a time. I'm taking things slow and believe me, nothing is trivial. If it isn't obvious what I am setting up it will come to light later on. But what I believe many romantic stories miss is if you don't make the characters interesting on their own, how are you supposed to care when they fall in love?
By the very end of this story, I want you to have the same feeling as when you finished a great novel.
I'm trying something different in my process, dedicating uninterrupted time to write and taking breaks where I watch something or read to keep my imagination stimulated. And I also make time for puzzles and other things to keep the old brain sharp.
This is a big weekend for me: making repairs around the house, watching the final 3 episodes of ARCANE, and finishing this chapter! Hoping to start Monday with a clear mind, you know?
Tori knocked on the ornate wooden door, looking down at her dress. It was a shimmering black number that clung tightly to her, open on the sides which showed off her long legs. She was also made up with a gold necklace and matching earrings. Tori's biggest battle was with the makeup. She hardly wore any, so agonizing over the right shade of lipstick and how much eye shadow was plenty drove her crazy.
She breathed deeply when the door opened and a man a bit older than her with chiseled features smiled.
"Good evening, Matilda!"
"How are you, Leo?" Tori asked. "Nice night."
"Absolutely," he nodded.
"His name is Leonardo Ruzzolini," said a middle-aged FBI man with thick glasses. "Grandson of Carlo Ruzzolini, Great-Grandson of Giuseppe Ruzzolini."
Giuseppe Ruzzolini. The name rang a bell, albeit a small one, but the more Tori listened, the more she felt it should have rung a much bigger bell.
Vice has had a long tenuous history with organized crime. It wasn't just in places like New York, where the police had to contend with the mafia composed of generations of Sicilian immigrants carving an empire in that massive city. Those who remember "Old Vegas" will tell you that the mob had no problem venturing out west. But they succeeded in Los Angeles where other organized crime bosses failed. They remained hidden.
When the average person thought about crime in L.A. gangs like the Crips, the Bloods, and MS-13 are conjured up. And that was the point. While wannabe street gangsters waging war with one another were a reality, not ALL of them were this. Many were punks who grew up neglected looking to be somebody. The real thugs, the ones that even the cops were wary around, understood that true power was a long and complicated game. And such individuals were under the payroll of a very powerful overlord. And that overlord was Giuseppe Ruzzolini and currently, his son Carlo.
Ruzzolini emigrated from Italy during the early 1940's, shortly after America had officially entered World War II. He was fed up with Mussolini and the fascists, so he left his home country behind, and he took his wife, Margherita, and infant son Carlo with him. Finding New York and Chicago too crowded and filthy, they eventually made their way to the west coast where they settled permanently.
It was there that his criminal empire took root and became the "open secret" it was among the wealthy and powerful. Ruzzolini had ties to the entertainment industry, various wineries, and other ventures integral to the state of California. He wisely stayed out of the public eye, only known among the authorities and the occasional true crime enthusiast. While men who worked for him came under fire and were prosecuted, nothing could ever be traced back to Ruzzolini himself. His underlings took their punishments like champions or run the risk of being murdered. Rumor was Martin Scorsese once met with the man as a consultant for a gangster picture and even the filmmaking giant felt uneasy in his presence.
But operations appeared to transfer completely to Carlo and family following the patriarch's advanced age. And the boy bred into this world of back-end deals and high life was everything his father hoped for: intelligent, exacting, ruthless. Didn't help those sons had the knack of resembling their fathers so closely it was eerie.
Tori had brought a career criminal to justice, but this was very different. The target of inquiry here was a heavy hitter, someone who had little issue with making problems "disappear."
"What's the story on Leo's parents?" asked Tori.
"Not much to tell," came his partner, similar age but with a bushy mustache that made him look like Sam Elliot. "Carlo had them sent away to Sicily to oversee business matters there. Probably talked into it by his pa-pa."
Tori scrunched up her face.
"So, Leo was brought up by grandpa to make his way into the family business."
"Anyhow..." the mustachioed man continued. "Since Carlo had virtually taken over operations here in America, once his relatives came of age, he had to delegate responsibilities."
The man with glasses slid a photo of Leonardo across the table, showing him photographed guerilla-style by his private yacht.
"Leo here had been given control of West Hollywood, which is nothing to sneeze at."
"Please, please, come in!" Ruzzolini offered.
Tori looked away, brushing back a strand of her hair feigning shyness as she entered.
"Would you care for a drink?" he asked, closing the door behind them.
She shook her head no.
"A diet coke if you have any."
Ruzzolini chuckled while reaching for a fancy bottle of whiskey, "Hope you don't mind if I partake, my dear."
When Tori had read through the case file, it seemed rather mundane. She was allegedly going to go undercover as a dock worker at a warehouse suspected of distributing stolen merchandise from a truck shanghaied by thieves. But when Tori called the investigator in charge, she was connected to Llyod Phillips of the FBI. He was the man in the bushy mustache she said across from. Upon meeting her, Phillips and his partner, Ron Ford, were taken aback by the attractiveness of the LAPD officer.
That was when they offered her a chance to infiltrate this operation in a different capacity. Apparently, the man in charge, Leonardo Ruzzolini had particular tastes, and the statuesque brunette was not far off from the olive-skinned dark-haired beauties from the old country.
"What is it are you asking me to do?" pressed Tori.
The FBI guys had Tori, operating under the identity of Matilda Manning, apply as a potential employee. And they made a point of having her ravishing looks get back to the mob boss. He was a shrewd businessman, but he was pretty old-fashioned. Leo started with inviting "Matilda" to his office, hoping to ingratiate himself with her under the guise of making sure she was getting used to the job and everyone was treating her well. Ruzzolini really turned on the charm, attempting to woo her.
In his position, with the kind of money and influence he had, the man saw no reason to force himself on a woman. Leo operated on the assumption that his aura drew ladies to him, but he was very selective. He wasn't exactly a man of morals, apart from the obvious, as he was married and putting the moves on this woman (who was his employee).
They've been playing the long game for the better part of a month, giving time for Matilda to become an obsession of Leo's. And it worked when he finally invited her to his home in the Hollywood Hills.
It was a monstrosity of a house, pure post-modern anti-beauty. It looked like a digital image that hadn't fully rendered, a mess of glass and stone. Tori visibly recoiled at the sight of this place.
The driver Leo sent to pick Tori didn't say much and the ride up was an awkward and quiet one. The hustle of downtown Los Angeles ebbed away as the black town car traversed the increasingly rough roads to the hills. When it pulled up before the main house, the driver got out and opened the door for Tori. She politely thanked him before walking up the pathway, which was composed of grey stone slabs with small cacti on both sides of the way.
It startled her when the private driver quickly pulled away, leaving her alone by the front door.
She inhaled deeply and knocked instead of ringing the bell. Tori didn't know why, it just felt instinctively correct for her to do so.
But he soon opened up and kindly invited her inside. After so many days, it still felt odd being referred to as "Matilda." Luckily, Tori had a decent memory and could maintain the facade outwardly.
"You're not cold, are you?" Leo asked. "I could start a fire."
Even undercover, the real Tori did feel a shiver.
"Yes, please!"
Leo picked up a remote from off the mantle and pointed it at the massive fireplace and a roaring red and orange glow manifested.
"Neat trick," she nodded.
"Why thank you," he smiled relishing in how everything was impressing the woman. "Sit, sit."
Tori looked behind her and saw the big white couch that stretched even longer than the wide fireplace.
"This is...quite a place."
"What can I say? Logistics is lucrative if you know what you're doing."
(Yeah, sure buddy.)
The greying man snapped his fingers and smiled at his guest.
"Where are my manners? Let me see to that diet coke for you!"
He set his stout glass with three fingers of whiskey down and repaired into the kitchen.
Tori sighed and covered her forehead, psyching herself out for how she got into this whole mess. This was a mob family, the real deal. Nobody gets access to the inner circle unless their born into it or marries in. Being a mistress was the closest thing to get some intel that the feds could not. Whatever Leonardo had in mind didn't matter. Tori's plan was to leave a small piece of spy equipment on the premises and fake being ill so that she could leave before things got out of hand.
(If I could get out of kissing this guy, I beg you God, PLEASE!)
She decided to use the temporary privacy to her advantage and roam around the living room unfettered. The detective fingered the device in her pocket and decided to discreetly plant it behind a hanging picture. Fast approaching footsteps alarmed her and she had no time to get back to where she was, so she abandoned setting up the bug and just hung there pretending to admire the painting.
"Do you like it?"
She turned to see Leo holding the tall glass with the caramel-colored fizzy beverage. It was like he was trying to make it as enticing as it looked in the commercials. In his other hand was an empty glass with some ice cubes.
"The cans are chilled, but in case that wasn't cold enough..." he held up the ice for emphasis. "I know I should have my head examined for not having whiskey on the rocks." Leo then set everything down on the small glass table with a clang that echoed through the spacious house. "Did you know that was an original?"
He joined Tori's side by the big watercolor. It depicted two figures holding hands during a rainy day in Paris. Despite such a dreary scene, there was a lot of color in it. Tori wasn't sure if those were stars or fireworks in the sky, almost as though the painter was trying to evoke Van Gogh.
"The artist was a man I had met in Rome. He was originally from Marzabotto. He told me about his trip to France and how taken aback he was from its beauty. The man grew up in the Italian countryside, and that was all he knew. But when he first set his eyes on Paris, he said it was like a fairytale."
Tori nodded.
"Well, I can certainly see that. Would love to see other things he had painted."
Leo stepped forward, touching Tori's arm.
"I do have another piece...in the bedroom..."
Both jumped at the sound of the front door opening.
In the landing stood a well-dressed woman, perfect head of hair and earrings that made Tori's jewelry pale in comparison. She was certain that what she was wearing was worth more than what Tori made in a year. The lady's hands were full with big brown bags, which she swiftly relieved herself of.
"WHO ARE YOU?" she bellowed.
Tori's eyeballs glanced over to Leo, who for the first time since she met him, completely lost his cool. He had the look of a man who had encountered a wild Kodiak in the woods and was contemplating his last will and testament.
"Diana!" he blurted out in surprise. "I thought you were staying with Rosalinda!"
Her eyes narrowed at the both of them, deciding which one to tear into first.
"Okay, young lady!"
(No one's called me that in forever!)
"Who are you and what are you doing with my husband?"
She folded her arms, waiting with a scowl. Tori froze for a second, wondering if dead silence or an actual verbal reply would set her off the strongest. She was trained to deal with a physical threat, but this dress didn't exactly lend to carrying a piece. If Diana here was a true mob wife, and she pulled out a pistol of her own, it would pretty much wrap things up.
Suddenly, a younger woman crept up behind the cross woman. She looked worried and confused.
"Who's she?"
Tori's finger was on a photo of a lovely girl, dressed in a very understated white gown. Her hair was curly and short, sporting a single diamond earring. That image struck Tori as odd as she had only seen men wear a single earring before. The woman was gorgeous, if Tori was honest. She looked like she stepped out of the runway.
The photo in question was Leo's cousin Annamarie was getting married, and Rosalinda here wasn't part of the bridal party, so she sat on her own, looking wistful and even a bit bored. Big family gatherings like these were the way some relatives were even seen, albeit through a telephoto lens by the feds.
"That's Rosalinda. Leo's sister."
"Any intel on her?" Tori asked.
Ford sat back.
"Not really. Pretty sure she has a job within the organization but nothing specific enough."
"Probably keeps the books," Phillips suggested. "Records indicate she went to UCLA, so she must have a brain in that pretty little head of hers."
The Latina didn't like how they were describing her for some reason. It just sounded dismissive and condescending coming from them. Yes, she was pretty, but they made it sounded like anything else about her was incidental.
"Are they close? Her and Leo I mean?"
Both men shrugged.
Tori recognized the attractive girl from the guerrilla style photo.
"You're Rosalinda, aren't you?" she finally spoke.
That was not anyone in the room was expecting. Leo looked between her and his wife, who momentarily glanced back at her sister-in-law.
"Who are you?" asked Rosalinda, hair hidden beneath a black and white bandana. She appeared equally surprised and annoyed.
The tan woman dared to step forward and offered her hand despite being too far for someone to receive it.
"My name is Matilda. I was hoping to meet you but I...um...didn't know how to find you..." Tori looked back at Leo, who stood there aghast. "I work for your brother, and I tried convincing him to arrange a meeting?"
Rosalinda blinked and locked eyes with Diana, who was just as thrown off by what was said.
"You TOLD him?" she growled at her.
Diana held her face.
"Leo, please don't tell me this is what she says!"
The man ran his hand across his short hair.
"I've seen her around the plant," he shrugged, understanding what Matilda was doing. "Seemed nice but I wasn't sure how to get these two to...uh...meet?"
His sister turned bright red, and she hid her face.
"God-FUCKING-dammit, Leo! I don't need your ass playing matchmaker for me!"
Rosalinda proceeded to storm into the kitchen, grumbling about how Diana and his brother met without her help, so why is he even doing this?
Diana watched her sister-in-law vanish out of sight before charging forward. She eyed the rather ravishing dress the stranger was wearing.
"Okay, miss girl! I don't buy this bullshit for a second!" She cocked her head to her husband. "And you! You should fucking know better! She's an employee. You're her superior, dickhead. Do you want a lawsuit?"
The man who was built up as an influential powerhouse just shrunk like a violet before his wife.
Diane pointed at Tori, "I want you OUT of my house NOW!" Her finger turned to Leo. "And I am watching you like a hawk until I decide you're out of that doghouse! If you are so much as five minutes late getting home, I will shoot you."
"Yes, dear!" He then looked to Tori. "What about her?"
"Have Wendell take her home!"
"He's...gone for the evening."
The made her blood boil even more because the implication was Matilda would have no foreseeable way of getting home. Ergo, she would've been spending the night.
"I'll take her home!"
They all turned to see an exasperated Rosalinda standing there.
"Are you sure?" Diana asked.
"Frankly, she's the only person out of you three I'm least pissed at! So, I'll do it."
The younger sister marched toward the hooks on the wall in the foyer and snatched a shiny set of keys.
"And I'm taking the Jaguar!"
Leo swallowed.
"Just be careful," he told her.
"Don't tell me what to do, old man!"
She was only eight years younger than him but starting to grey in his early twenties only for it to get whiter and shinier, it was hard to argue.
"Let's go!" she commanded Tori who obligingly followed.
Rosalinda slammed the door on the way out, talking more under her breath.
"I appreciate you doing this..."
"No talking!" she interrupted.
(This was NOTHING like I imagined this evening to go!)
The '68 Jaguar Roadster peeled through the streets like a dark green bullet, both ladies' hair billowing in the rushing wind. Open top classics like these were made for joy rides on the winding roads of California.
Tori was buckled in but still holding on.
"Think maybe we could slow down a little bit?"
Rosalinda just kept her gaze on the road ahead.
"What are you, the cops?"
The one masquerading as Matilda bit her lip.
"It's not that! I'm just trying to not die!"
"Whatever, nerd!" the curly-haired one scoffed.
She then made a tight turn, nearly spinning 270 degrees before making an abrupt stop in a parking lot.
Tori released her held breath.
"Did anyone ever tell you that you're kind of a buzzkill?" Rosalinda said, giving Tori the side eye.
Holding her chest, Tori returned the critical glare.
"Hey, I like fun too."
"Is this more your speed?" she shrugged, pointing to a food truck.
"Ice cream?"
Rosalinda didn't answer and just jetted off to the eatery on wheels. Tori reluctantly followed her as she was her ride still.
"Ernie's got the best soft serve in the valley!" she explained to the Latina. "But you gotta find where he's at. That's why I check social media."
"Is that the reason you offered to take me back home?"
She leaned against the truck while some boys ordered.
"Does that...disappoint you?"
Tori just blinked, shaking her head. Ruzzolini's sister looked her up and down and chuckled softly.
"What?"
"Nothing, I just feel a little underdressed."
Ten minutes later, they were back by the Jaguar, Rosalinda sitting on the hood like a fucking boss while Tori leaned against the side. The seated girl watched a drop of rocky road fall onto her jeans. The thing that sucks about soft serve is that it melts the fastest. Tori figured "when in Rome..." and got a single scoop of orange sherbert.
"How's yours?" she asked Tori.
The tan one didn't answer.
"Hey, earth to Matilda!"
Forgetting for a split second, Tori hesitated before looking up to answer.
"Huh?"
Rosalinda sighed before taking a big bite of the waffle cone.
"Look..." she began while chewing. "About what I said earlier, I'm not mad at you. My dumbass brother was cheating on his wife. Frankly he got what he deserved. Diana deserves better than that, but I'm still irritated she outed me to him in the fucking first place!"
She huffed and tore more into her cone.
"The biggest thing...trying to use me to cover up his infidelity," Rosalinda spat with disgust. "Asshole."
Tori licked her lips.
"Still in the closet, I guess?"
"Are you?" Rosalinda countered sarcastically.
"I'm just..." Tori cleared her throat. "Figuring things out."
Rosalinda blinked.
"Oh."
Tori blushed and went to finish her sherbert, trying to ignore the Ruzzolini girl inching closer to her.
"So, you...haven't dated a woman before?"
She shook her head no.
"When you do..." Rosalinda chuckled. "You don't have to try so hard with..." she gestured at the black dress. "...all of this!"
Tori flipped back her brown hair, exhaling with embarrassment.
"Oh, I didn't mean you looked bad! You look...really good."
Rosalinda swallowed and shoved the rest of her frozen treat into her mouth. The tunnel vision on her face let Tori know that her companion made an enormous mistake, and the Latina couldn't help but laugh.
"It's not funny!" she protested, holding her head. "Got a goddamn brain freeze!"
Once her mouth was no longer full, Rosalinda joined in on the giggles with Tori. It took several minutes before they regained their composure. Tori sighed, looking out into the night. Rosalinda stole some glances at the objectively attractive lady with her.
Soon, they were back on the road and Tori told her to drop her off at an apartment block half a block from where she really lived. Can't be too careful.
"Sorry again my brother got you into this...and thanks for joining me with ice cream. Didn't have to eat it by myself like some sad wino."
"Thanks for the ride," Tori nodded. "You're okay."
"Hey...uh...what's your number?"
She was startled by Rosalinda's question.
"Oh, sorry new phone..." Tori dug into her pocket and grabbed the iPhone given to her upon being hired instead of her actual personal cell. "What did you..."
"Gimme!" she said while snatching it. She typed some numbers and saved it to contacts. "There. Shoot me a text and we can do lunch sometime."
Tori retrieved the iPhone and smiled.
"Oh, sounds good."
"Goodnight, Matilda."
"Night," Tori waved as the Jaguar speeded away.
She looked down at the new contact in her "work phone" and smirked. Things appeared to fall apart with getting close to Leonardo Ruzzolini, but lady luck introduced his sister into the equation. Tori might be able to get some useful information yet.
(Maybe this wasn't a complete bust after all.)
A/N: Tori is going in deep as a detective. Can she stand the heat?
Next chapter, we check in on Jade.