Giovanni's lips pull down, pulling me out of my thoughts. His face is typically expressionless, sometimes with varying degrees of anger or disgust. Right now, the anger on his face is explosive and from the twist of his lips to the fire in his eyes, it promises nothing good.
I swallow.
"Have you seen Maximo this morning?" Vito asks, pulling Giovanni's attention off me. I'm thankful when he turns to look at Vito.
"I have not, but it's of no concern," he says stiffly, and my reprieve doesn't last long as he looks right back at me.
It's as if he's playing some sort of game, making me squirm by letting me think that I'm off the hook before starting right back over. Every time his gaze lands back on me, it's laden with even more anger. I brush my fingers along the back of my neck, swiping at a sheen of sweat.
Vito clears his throat. "He was supposed to have checked in by now," he says.
This time, Giovanni doesn't even bother to look at his friend, continuing to look at me, but his words are for Vito. "He'll check in when he does," he says. And before Vito can ask another question and take Giovanni's attention off me, he's coming at me.
"Why weren't you working last night?"
My mouth opens but no words come out.
"You were on the clock and yet every five seconds you were sitting around staring into space and brooding as if you were on your own time. The doctor said there’s nothing medically wrong with you, so you have no excuse.” I keep my eyes trained downward, jumping when he slams his hand down. The whole table rattles and my ears ring as my eyes snap up. “That's not what I pay you for."
"You don't pay me," the words come out of my mouth before I can stop them. I freeze, silence cutting through the room, and I know that not even Vito is going to try and interfere. There's only so much he can do to keep me out of harm's way, and he certainly won't help when I just blatantly disrespected the boss.
"I don't pay you?" Giovanni's voice is eerily low, too quiet.
I realize I prefer the yelling because this, the stone-cold killer pitch, makes me want to run. His eyes harden. "The hundred-dollar clothes and shoes you wear everyday cost more than anyone else’s on the payroll at Delirium. This mansion that you have a room in, most couldn't afford to stay one hour in. The fine food you eat, is it not better than everything you ever ate in the gutter where you came from? It costs more than what you make in the tips that you keep every night."
"So don't say I don't pay you when I could easily have you lay on your back every night for chump change."
Silence.
Every hair on the back of my neck lifts and my breath halts in my chest. When I first came here, I was resigned to the fact that I'd likely end up in the realm of sex trafficking, but with it laid out in front of me, panic starts to bubble up. I should have known better than to talk back to Giovanni. I should have kept my head down and my lips sealed. Even when he was baiting me for a response. Nothing good ever comes of it.
"Giovanni," Vito hedges carefully. I don’t dare avert my gaze to him, as much as I want to.
Giovanni continues to speak as if he didn't hear him. "And how were you caught off guard by the Ramos cartel? I rolled the cameras back and you ran right into him." He shakes his head. His eyes narrow and he leans closer, his hands firmly on the table. "It's almost as if you have a suicide mission."
Maybe I do, the retort is right on the tip of my tongue. Because who in the world wouldn't be suicidal to some degree in this situation? And I know he wouldn't like it if I confessed to thinking about dying only moments before I was attacked. I bite down on my bottom lip until the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
"Or did you forget that if you're dead then I have no reason to keep your pathetic brother alive?" he asks.
The image of Richard lying on the ground, a gunshot wound in his head and a pool of blood beneath him flashes in my head. "No, I didn't forget.” I tell him, pushing through the lump in my throat.
"What was that?" he asks, tilting his head to the side slightly.
"I said I didn't forget." I raise my voice slightly this time, but keep it low enough that it won't come across as disrespectful. This is all just a game of balance. Balancing between respect and disrespect, balancing between running or staying, balancing between life and death.
"That's what I thought," he says, a note of finality in his tone. He sits back in his seat and out of the corner of my eye I see Vito shift slightly, but I don't dare look at him. The look on Giovanni's face the last time I stared at Vito hasn't been forgotten. And he's already too close to the edge.
"I can't have you completely defenseless," Giovanni says after a few moments of silence. The change in topic catches me off guard. Some of the anger has faded from his tone, returning to the cool, emotionless tone that is sometimes worse. "You told me you knew how to fire a gun, but considering you shot Javier in his throat and not in the skull, your skills need brushing up."
He leans back, folding his arms over his chest and I expect him to finish his statement, but he doesn't.
"You'll be training with Enzo," Vito says, picking up the conversation.
Giovanni's eyes continue to bore into me and I take a deep breath, trying to decide how safe it is to look at Vito. After a few seconds, I take the gamble, turning my gaze to him as he continues to speak. He returns my stare, his lips pressed into an unhappy line. "He'll make sure that your aim becomes better and teach you how to defend yourself in case anything else arises."
"But let it be clear," Giovanni dips back in, his commanding voice drawing my eyes back to him. His eyes are hard. "He will teach you to protect yourself, because the risk of the Ramos Cartel attacking is high right now and we have enemies in every corner. However, if you ever try to use your training against someone in the family, you will be thoroughly punished," he informs me. "Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
I give a quick nod.