Hiding in plain sight

The walk was short and quiet, taking us only a few minutes to navigate the winding streets until we reached the familiar, weathered brick of Rob’s apartment building. Neither of us said much along the way, the silence between us thick with everything we weren't saying.

Once we reached his door, I reached into my jacket, pulled out my keyring, and used my key to let us in. The deadbolt slid back with a heavy, familiar click, and I pushed the door open, gesturing for him to go ahead of me.

Rob walked in, looking exhausted, his shoulders slumped as he glanced around the quiet living room. He ran a hand over his face and turned to me, his voice rough.

"I'm going to take a shower," he muttered, gesturing toward the back hallway.

"Take your time. I'll be right here," I said, nodding toward the bathroom.

As soon as the bathroom door clicked shut and the low, steady hiss of the shower began to echo through the apartment, I pulled out my phone. I needed someone reliable, and I needed them fast. I pulled up my contact list and found Vic’s contact.

Me: I have a job for you.

My phone buzzed almost immediately. Vic was never one to keep me waiting when I texted.

Vic: What kind of job?

Me: Babysitting, in a way. I need you to watch Rob and keep an eye on him until I can get some things done. I have some business to take care of, and I can't leave him unsupervised.

There was a brief pause, the little typing bubbles appearing and disappearing on my screen before his reply finally came through.

Vic: I can do that. What’s the address?

Me: The old brick apartment building near the National Museum of Capodimonte; top floor. Get here as fast as you can.

Vic: On my way.

I locked my phone and slipped it back into my pocket, listening to the drum of the shower down the hall. A few minutes later the shower stopped, and a few minutes after that, Rob popped out of his bedroom dressed in sweats.

“Where do we go from here?” he asked.

“Vic is going to stay with you for a bit,” I explained. “I went into Rome as Marie Alexandrovna Romanov and my Italian passport under Bianca Rossi was flagged when I bailed you out. I need to go into hiding for a bit.”

“Who is Vic?” he asked.

“Someone that I trust completely,” I said as I sighed. “Not only do I need to do something with my hair, but I need to do something about my face. A few tweaks.”

“A few tweaks?” he asked.

“Yes, a few tweaks,” I said. “Not enough to change my appearance but enough for when people I’ve come across recently don’t fully recognize me.”

“How many times have you had to do this?”

“More than I’d like to admit,” I said. “You’ve never noticed these tweaks because you’re so familiar with my face that you just don’t see it.”

“Such as?”

“My nose, lips and hairline,” I said. "And my tits."

Rob stared at me, studying my features for a quiet moment, before shaking his head.

"Honestly, I haven't noticed," he said.

"That's because it's been several years since we last saw each other," I mentioned. "Plus, for knowing someone as long as we've known each other, you wouldn't notice anyway. You just look at me and see me, not the details."

Before he could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door.

I went to the door, unlocked it, and let Vic into the apartment.

"Hey," Vic said softly, a slight smile on his face.

Vic immediately leaned in to kiss me, but I stepped back, avoiding the gesture.

"Don't," I murmured, cutting my eyes toward the living room. "Not right now."

Vic cleared his throat, adjusting his jacket as he took in the room. "Right. Understood."

I closed the door behind Vic, then introduced my former lover to my dearest childhood friend.

"Vic, Rob," I said, gesturing between them. "Rob, Vic."

"Nice to meet you," Vic said, holding out a hand.

"Yeah," Rob replied flatly, reaching out to meet his grip. "Likewise."

They shook hands as they eyed each other warily.

I left them in the living room and went into the kitchen—which Thomas had stocked after I left his office—to grab us all a beer.

As I grabbed the bottles and started back, their voices carried clearly from the living room. I paused just outside the doorway.

"Honestly, she's the best I've ever had," Vic was saying, his voice low. "Just absolutely amazing."

"Tell me about it," Rob replied. "And so fucking tight."

"Like a fucking glove, man," Vic agreed.

I interrupted their conversation as I realized what they were talking about by stepping back into the room, holding the beers. I greeted them as if I didn’t hear them talk about me like that. I wanted to be embarrassed about the amount of men I’ve fucked as well as making a bad habit of introducing them but I wasn’t.

“Who am I babysitting? You?” Vic asked. “What information can you share with me?”

“You’re babysitting Rob. Vic, what you need to know, is going to be super limited as it’s a need to know,” I began. “Rob and I are both the head of the Mazarella Clan. He is the boss on paper due to the money that he and his biological family has. I am the brains of the clan. Rob had helped me get into working for different governments and different entities – which is how I’ve accumulated my wealth.”

“Oh, wow,” Vic said.

“Due to people knowing that I’m here, I have to go undercover a bit,” I said. “I came here as one person but that wasn’t a smart idea but my other identity here has been flagged when I bailed him out. I need to take care of a few things and get a new identity.”

“What will that entail, amore?” he asked.

“It’s one of those the less you know the better just in case the police connect you to Rob and I,” I said. “But you need to be here for a week or so. Thomas, Rob’s brother, will swing by where you’re staying to grab some clothes for you.”

“Ok,” Vic said. “How will I reach out to you?”

“You won’t,” I said. “For anything and everything you need, just reach out to Thomas and he’ll take care of it. And to answer your next question, after this, you won’t see me for a long time.”

“Why the fuck not?” Vic asked.

“It’s more for your safety and to give us space as a precautionary measure,” I explained. “Now that Rob is out of jail, he’s under extreme scrutiny. You are to follow him like you knew that I’d be here in Naples. He can’t have any contact with any person in the alleged crime family. If anyone wants to contact him, they will have to go through Thomas the first time. From then on, you will relay the messages. As for my return and your departure, only Thomas will know when I’ll be on my way back here. You will be given about twenty five minutes heads up to gather your things and leave before I arrive.”

“That’s a little harsh, Deppgrl,” he sighed.

“I know it is and that was my intention,” I said.

“What about everything that’s happened between us?”

“That’s now history, Papi,” I said. “You and I won’t see each other for a long time.”

He nodded. I headed to the guest room where I had my stuff put. When I rejoined my former lover and my dear friend, I looked at them both for a long moment.

“I’ll see you in about a week, amico,” I said to Rob then I turned to Vic. “I’ll see you in a few years, Papa.”

I then let myself out of the apartment and headed to the hospital of plastic surgery by foot. On my way there, I pulled out my phone and texted Thomas.

Me: It's time to get rid of my car.

A moment later, my phone buzzed with his reply.

Thomas: Consider it done. I'll take care of it right away.

When I received confirmation from him that he’d take care of my car, I knew that it was the right thing to do. Before even choosing this hospital, I had a background check on everyone. The staff may or may not know my true identity but they all had to sign an NDA before seeing each client; especially with me. It wouldn’t just prevent a leak but it was a big deterrent as Italy….not only would lawsuits happen but each person would lose their licensure in their specialty, have high fines and prison time for a minimum of three and a half years.

Thankfully, it was only a ten minute walk to the hospital of plastic surgery. I walked through the glass doors and approached the front desk.

"Good afternoon, signora," the receptionist greeted me with a polite, professional smile. "Do you have an appointment?"

"Yes, under Larissa Barlowe," I replied, keeping my voice soft and adopting a slight French-Canadian accent. "I have a private room booked as well."

"Ah, yes. Madame Barlowe," the receptionist said, checking her screen. "Welcome. Before we take you up to your suite, we just need you to approve the NDA that you sent over for us to sign."

“Why wasn’t this signed when I sent it over? How do I know that you nor your staff haven’t gone around saying that I’d be here?” I was livid. “There was a reason why I sent it over prior to my arrival – my attorney and I went over this several times. Of course I approved it before it was sent over.”

“My apologies,” the woman said. “I’ll call everyone on staff to sign their copies now.”

“Even the ones who have a day off today?” I asked without hesitation.

“Yes,” she said nervously.

“I sent this a week ago and this should’ve been taken care of prior to now. Because of your lack of concern of my safety, my confidence in you and the staff has significantly decreased. I don’t trust anyone now.”

“I’ll gladly call other plastic surgery hospitals for you,” she said.

“No. Call your staff and tell them it’s an emergency that they get here to sign this NDA. This is now going to take longer than it should be. Since you failed at your job as the manager, I will now have to call your employer.”

She paled then started calling the staff who had days off and paging the staff working to come immediately to reception. I called Sera as she is the owner of this particular plastic surgery hospital. Let me tell you….Sera was NOT thrilled to hear this. I pulled out my phone to make the call.

“Hi, this is Larissa Barlowe. Is this Seraphina?” I said when I called my former lover.

“Yes, it is,” Sera said confused as all hell. “How can I help you?”

“I’m calling from your plastic surgery hospital in Naples. I’d scheduled to be here for a week as of today and sent over an NDA for the staff to sign about a week ago however, not only is it not signed, your receptionist slash manager will now delay my schedule by who knows how long because she’s now getting everyone to sign the NDA due to her assumption that I didn’t pre-approve the NDA with my attorney prior to sending it over. I wouldn’t have sent it over if I hadn’t approved it.”

“Marie, I am so sorry,” Sera said. “I’ll call her now and give her shit. You know what? I’ll call her and tell her that this is her last day.”

“Thank you, Sera,” I said.

We hung up and seconds later, the receptionist’s phone rang and when she saw who was calling, she blanched. She answered her phone and stepped away from the counter to take the call. A few minutes later, she came back and was crying. She profusely apologized to me and told me that she was fired due to this.

“Had you done your job, this wouldn’t have happened. You still need to sign your NDA as you’re still here until the end of business today,” I said coldly.

“Yes, ma’am,” she said.

She signed her NDA and thanks to the call I made to Sera, the entire staff – even the ones who had a day off – all rushed to sign it. Once completed, security came by to escort the receptionist off the premises after she gathered her things. As she was getting escorted off the premises, I told her that she needs to find a good attorney as I planned to sue her for everything she had.

Once the paperwork was settled, a nurse stepped forward to guide me.

"Right this way, please," the nurse said, opening the door to a hallway and led me to my room that I chose. "Whenever you are ready, the salon is just down the corridor."

"Thank you," I said.

I changed into the comfortable clothing and made my way down to their salon. My hair had grown so much since Russia and Paulina  – it was way past my shoulders again – and the black dye was fading. It would take several sessions to get my hair back to my normal hair color and thought it would be best to get started now and then as I was healing, continue coming here to get my hair to where I wanted it to be.

I sat in a salon chair, and the stylist smiled as she combed through a section of my hair.

"Welcome! I am Sofia," the stylist said. "What are we looking for today, Miss Barlowe?"

"I want to go to either red or a strawberry blonde," I explained, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "But I trust your judgment with color."

"Oh, red!" Sofia said, her eyes lighting up. "Trust me, I will turn you into the most fabulous redhead that you've ever meet."

I laughed and leaned back in the chair. "Go ahead. You can do whatever you want to my hair."

With a big grin on her face, she began sectioning my hair. "Excellent. Not only will you be a fabulous redhead, but I think we must do a sleek bob. Something about three inches above your shoulders."

"Have at it," I told her, nodding. "But I understand that it could take a few sessions to lift this dark dye."

"Grazie! Thank you for understanding," she replied warmly.

She wet my hair, grabbed a comb, and got to working on my knotty hair. Within a few minutes, the knots were gone.

"Now, for the magic," Sofia murmured as she lifted her shears and started snipping away.

Twenty minutes later, my haircut was perfect.

Sofia stepped back, looking at her work with approval. "Perfect. Now, I will go to the back to mix some things together in order to at least bleach your hair somewhat. I will be right back."

Once she left, I looked at my reflection in the mirror, speaking quietly to the empty room. I desperately wanted to be at my apartment in Naples... but this is best for my safety. I shook my head and sighed. Charlie was right. I came here too boldly and wasn't discreet because it was personal. If this had been business, I would've been in and out of Italy without any fuss.

While waiting for Sofia, I pulled out my phone and pulled up Thomas’s contact information and started typing a text to him.

Me: I made it to the plastic surgery hospital ok. The NDA was signed, though there was a small hiccup but Sera took care of it. I also need to sue the receptionist slash manager as she failed to have everyone sign the NDA - contact Sera for this person's name and start the lawsuit. 

I followed with another text immediately after.

Me: Make sure Vic is kept on a short leash. He is not allowed to find me at all. If he does, it risks everything it took to get Rob out.

My phone buzzed almost instantly as Thomas replied.

Thomas: I am happy to hear you are taking care of your appearances—both pun intended and unintended. Don't worry, I will make sure Lover Boy stays out of trouble. And yes, I'll contact Sera immediately. 

“I’m back, Miss Harlowe,” Sofia said as she came back with a bowl and a few brushes. “I’m sorry for the delay.”

“You can call me Larissa, Sofia,” I said. “Don’t worry about it as I had to reply to a few texts. Depending on how this goes, do you think that we can continue in two days?

“Thanks, Larissa. I appreciate that,” she said. “I don’t see why not. What’s on your schedule tomorrow?”

“Eye and breast lift, minor lip fillers, tummy tuck,” I said. “Depending on how everything works with my hair – which I’m sure it will – I doubt I’ll have my hairline touched up.”

“That’s a ton of work to be done in one day,” she replied. “What’s the rush?”

“It is but when I leave at the end of the week, I don’t want much bruising to show,” I said. “Plus, everything is just a tweak, not a full surgery.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” she said.

“The rush is that I’m a bit vain about my appearances and when I show my face to the rest of the city at the end of the week, I want minimal bruising as people would know.”

Sofia nodded and got to work with whatever concoction she made in her mixing bowl. Within thirty five minutes, she put whatever goop she made in my hair, made small sections and put foils in my hair. I then went under a dryer to activate the process. I fell asleep under the dryer as I was exhausted from fucking Charlie, Thomas and Rob. I’m not sure how much time had passed when Sofia woke me up.

“Alrighty, let’s get you to the bowl for a wash,” she said as she took the dryer hood thing away from my head.

I followed her and sat down. She and another stylist took the foils off of my hair then I slid down in the seat so my hair could be washed. It didn’t take her long to wash my hair twice and condition my hair three times with different conditioners. We went back to her station for her to dry and examine my hair. Not even five minutes later, my hair was dried, styled and Sofia was examining my hair.

“Your hair looks great and I think we should plan for two days from now,” Sofia said as she ran her fingers through my hair. “Before we start though, I’ll check your hair again to see if it’s still healthy feeling and looking. Does that sound ok?”

“Sounds great,” I said as I got out of her chair. “Thanks so much, Sofia. See ya in two days.”

I left and headed to the dining hall of the hospital to grab dinner.