Fixing Locks

The conference room was one of the jazzier and more comfortable ones: lots of blue leather armchairs, a dark wood table and a wine coloured rug. The secretaries had brought in coffee and bottles of water. Tiny sandwiches sat on plates in front of us but no one was eating. As George had predicted, the building had been emptied and only the eleven board members of Lionwell remained in the building. Mr Lionwell himself had stepped out to bring the group we were expecting. My fingers were drumming on the table, and a few people glared at me. Perhaps I could have murmured apologies because I admit I was disturbing them, but I chose to glare back. The lights suddenly dimmed and a female gasped, I remained calm. Strobe lights began flashing all over the room. There was loud bass music bursting through the speakers and people were beginning to freak out. I remained calm, remembering something I had read in one of the files. The Ricci's loved a dramatic entrance. The lights went flared back on. I closed my eyes. The noise died down and I heard the elevator door ding. When I opened them, I saw the CEOs of the Aphelion Group. They were number twelve on the Forbes list. Their combined network was thirty billion. I couldn't imagine how rich the eleven people who had more money than them were.

I knew Desiree Harmon from the pictures. The blond woman had a full and arrogant mouth. she understood that no make-up was necessary for her. She was slender and narrow-waisted. She wore a dark red, cold shoulder jumpsuit and black Jimmy Choos that probably cost a hundred bucks a toe. Her blue eyes were calm and deep, untroubled, very sexy in their confidence. A gold-link necklace adorned her jutting collarbones.

So this was the one they called Aphrodite reincarnated. I could see from the way she stood that she was haughty and stuck-up. She thought of this as a waste of her time and would have been happy spending the day at the spa. The papers said she had a daughter. Four years old, named Erika. Desiree did not look like a mother. I took my attention to her husband.

Robert Ricci looked strangely familiar. It was not just his looks though, there was something about him that I recognised. Besides the pictures of him I had seen, there was something else very familiar about him. He wore a soft black cashmere turtleneck, charcoal grey trousers, which were pleated and cuffed, and light brown walking boots. His thick light brown hair was cut short, and he wore tortoise glasses. When he took off his sunglasses, I knew where I knew him from. I would never forget those hazel eyes. But how could that be? Robert Ricci looked exactly like my dead boyfriend from thirteen years ago.

"Joshua?"

...

"May I have the room please?" Mr Ricci asked. 

Mr Lionwell looked at him strangely. 

"I'd like to speak to Ms McCormick alone." Mr Ricci said.

My heart palpitated. The weather was dry but I began sweating. What did he want? What was he going to do to me? Was he going to tell me off for calling him a fake? Or worse?

"Everyone clear out, " Mr Lionwell ordered. I watched as my colleagues fanned out of the room. The shuffling of suits and briefcases, files and pencils. I should have been a part of that. I was thinking of how I was going to make my escape when I heard the door close.

I was alone.

With Mr Ricci. 

I turned to face him. He sat on the edge of the table, one leg crossed over the other as he nervously tapped his hands on the long desk.

"Can I help you, Mr Ricci?" I asked after several minutes of awkward silence. 

"It's me, " he said, getting up as he began stalking towards me.

I stood still.

Waiting.

"It's me." He repeated, standing right in front of me. He touched my hand, I did know how to react. He lowered his body to my level, burying his face in the crook of my neck. He inhaled deeply. I stiffened.

"Strawberry, " he murmured, his warm breath tickling the hairs on my neck which stood on end. He drew in another breath and whispered softly. "Just like I remember."

"It's you, " I said simply.

It was him. 

Robert Ricci was not the twin of my boyfriend. He was him. I could not believe my ears. Or my thoughts for that matter.

"It really is you," I said. He was real. Alive. Breathing. And standing. After all these years he was alive. Joshua was alive. My dead boyfriend was alive. 

"God I missed you so much, " he said, attacking my lips with his.

I pulled away sharply. 

And I punched him.

He cradled his nose. "What the fuck, Leighton?"

"How much did they pay you to trick me?"

"This is not a trick."

"I know it is. Where are the cameras?"

"I am not joking."

"I bet this is not even your actual face. I can't believe he would do this to me. When I get my bands on him, I'm going to kill him."

"Who?"

"George, of course, " I said, walking around the room and searching for cameras.

"Who is George?" He gripped my hand, stopping my frantic search.

I turned to look at him. To actually look at him. I saw it in his eyes. The confusion, love, concern. I knew those eyes. I had fallen in love with them thirteen years ago. I had drawn them many times. And now that they had taken life and were staring right at me, I was dumbfounded.

"You're not lying," I said out loud, more to myself than the man I was with. "It really is you."

"That's what I have been trying to tell you."

"But how?" I lowered myself into one of the armchairs. This was really happening. Joshua had returned from the grave. He was still fucking alive.

"Not important, " he shrugged off my question. "What is important is that here right now. I'm here for you."

He touched my shoulder. I flinched.

"But I don't need you, Joshua."

"You're not the same, Leighton. You were supposed to still love me."

"It's been thirteen years, Joshua," I said reasonably. "And you were the one who broke things off with me. I have no wish to be cruel, but how could I trust you to know your feelings from this time forward?"

Robert looked guilty and miserable at the same time.

"I'll always care, Joshua," I said quietly. "But I can't trust my heart in your hands- they're much too callous."

Robert closed his eyes and turned his back to the door to compose himself. The words stung. Just the way I wanted them to. I needed him to understand that I did not need him. Or love him.

He spoke in a hushed voice. "I'm going to tell you something very important right now Leighton. My name isn't Joshua Fereira."

"I think I got that when you came here referring to yourself as Robert Ricci. Why fake your own death? Why skip town? Why change your name? I want answers, Robert. And you are going to give them to me."

"I was never called Joshua."

"What are you saying?"

"I have always been Robert Ricci. Joshua Fereira was an alias. He never existed."

"No! He did. And I loved him." I did not believe it. I refused to believe it. I couldn't believe it. 

Robert sighed tiredly. "You loved me."

"I don't who you are, " I cried, slamming my fist on the table. "The man I fell in love with died thirteen years ago. You are a liar. You don't know what you're talking about. Joshua was real. He loved me. And we were going to be together."

"I know you are upset right now but you need to listen to me."

"No! You need to listen to me. Joshua is gone. You are a liar. He's gone. He died in the fire. There were bodies. And a funeral." I bit my tongue, trying to hold the tears that threatened to leave my eyes.

And that's when I couldn't hold them back.

First, one small crystal bead escaped from my right eye. I could feel the warmth, sliding down my cheek, and rolling off my chin.

Then another.

And another.

Until my eyes were flooded with them, coming like a rainfall. Sniffing every ten seconds, they fell and fell, and I let them.

I glared at Robert through my teary eyes. "He's gone."

"You're right," Robert said, approaching me gingerly. "Joshua is gone. But he didn't die during the fire. He died several months later.

I looked up from my hands which I had been staring at to stare at him. "What do you mean?"

"Joshua Fereira did die. Just not the night you thought he did."

Now he had my full attention. I thought he said he was Joshua. And now he was saying Joshua was actually dead. "I need some water."

Robert jumped to his feet and picked a bottle of water from the fridge. He unscrewed the cap and offered it to me.

Every swallow was like glass down my throat and my eyes watered with the effort. The water was supposed to provide cool comfort to the burn in my throat but it only scratched the walls of my throat further.

Robert sat next to me, watching me watch him as I drank water. I placed the bottle of the table and clasped my hands together to calm their shaking.

"I've always been Robert Ricci. That's the name that belongs to this face. My father was Aric Ricci and my grandfather was Luca Del Ricci. I belong to the Ricci crime family in Italy."

"Why did you change your name?"

"Because my life was in danger. Our rival gang was the Torark crime family, run by Bruce Lassar, the man who killed my mother."

"I thought your mom committed suicide after your father left you?"

"Those were all lies. The people who claimed to be my parents all the time I lived in Louisiana were actually working for the gang. My mother was killed by a blood-thirsty drug baron."

"What about your aunt?"

"She was a psychologist working for my brother."

"You have a brother?"

"His name is Daniel Ricci. He is the current head of the Sterling organized crime family. He's the reason I had to fake my own death."

"How?"

"Twenty-five years ago, when I was just a boy, my family attended an annual gang meeting in Venice. It was for all the gangs in Europe. At the time, my father was running the mafia. That night, Bruce Lassar killed my mother. He incapacitated my father and killed over a dozen members of my gang. That night, I lost everything. My older brother knew I was no longer safe in Italy. So he changed my name and brought me to America to keep me safe. He was only eleven at the time but Daniel had to take over y father's position."

"Why didn't you stay? You didn't have to go back to them."

"Except I did."

"What do you mean?" At this point, I had given up on formulating a statement that was not a question. My head was swarming with questions and I could feel a headache forming from all the new information buzzing in my brain. I took another sip of the water, it helped only a little.

"My father was well aware of the impending war between our gang and Torark. He made a deal with Cricels, another crime family in Italy. Cricels was the number one armaco in our industry."

"Armaco?"

"Arms Manufacturing Company. It's one of the types of businesses run in the organized crime world. I'd love to explain all the others to you later. In return for the weaponry they provided us, I would have to marry Desiree Harmon, the daughter of the leaders of Cricels."

"So that explains the wife."

Robert stared at the door. "I wish I didn't have to."

"Why you? You said you had an older brother. Why not him?"

"Daniel was already engaged to someone else from a gang in a different country."

"At the age of eleven?" Of course, I was incredulous.

"You'll be surprised how important holy matrimony is in the gang world."

I was unimpressed by his attempt at humour. "That weekend you went to Italy. The one where you went to supposedly speak to your father. What really happened?"

Robert's face darkened. "My brother sent me a message that our father was passing. Even though he was not the world's best dad, I knew I would not be able to live with myself if I did not see him one last time. That's what I went to do. Now have I answered all your questions?"

"You burned down your house. Why?"

"Daniel has a thing for big fires."

I gave him the 'are-you-kidding-me?' look.

He sighed. "It was a cover-up. He needed everyone to be convinced that we were dead so no one would come looking for us. I didn't want that but it was either that or you hat to died. "

My heart skipped a beat. "He was willing to kill me?"

"My brother is not a very pleasant person. But he is very passionate about family. He would do anything to protect our family name. Even if it means disposing of a few bodies."

I whistled lowly. "This is quite the story you've cooked up."

"I didn't just rip the sheets from a thriller novel. This is my life."

I run my hand through my hair, slouching in my seat. "If everything that you said is true, why did you come back? Why now?"

Robert looked stumped. Before he could venture an answer, his phone made a loud noise. "I'm sorry it's my wife. I have to get that."

I nodded in understanding. "Sure, sure."

He smiled gratefully and answered the phone, going to the window and staring at the city below us. After a few minutes, he joined me at the conference table.

"What did she want?"

"I fly to Florence in a few hours and we still have a lot to do so I'm going to have to go."

"When will you be back?" It's not like I missed him or wanted him to stay or anything. Everything Robert had told me meant nothing to me. We were no longer dating. I was not sure if we were even friends. Keep telling yourself that, an annoying voice in my head said.

"In a few days," he said distractedly while checking his watch. "I really have to go. I'm sorry."

"No, it's fine. You do you."

"I really am sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise," he said. "Why don't we meet up for dinner Friday night? We can go wherever you want. Here's my number so you can call me," he scribbled his cell phone number of a strip of paper and gave it to me.

"Yeah sure," I said, deciding to just go with the flow. It's not like I had just accepted to go on a date with my new boss who was also my ex-boyfriend from thirteen years ago. Oh shit. That's exactly what had just happened.

"Be safe," he said seriously, bending his body and pressing his lips softly to my cheek. I remembered the feeling. It made me blush in excitement and embarrassment. "See you Friday night."

"Your wife won't mind?"

Robert froze in his step.

Silly me, I just had to ask.

Robert turned to face me with a sly smirk on his face. "Why bring the Mrs into this?"

"You mean..." I couldn't bring myself to complete the statement. I knew it. He knew it. We were both thinking about it. But I was not brave enough to say it. What Robert was proposing was scandalous. It could ruin my career, my life even.

"She doesn't have to know."