Dangerously Unusual novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4

That night, I told Kloe all that had happened.

"Well, that's really creepy," she commented, frowning.

"I know, right? And yet, he remains incredibly attractive. It's absurd!" I replied, taking a bite of my sandwich.

"It's unfortunate that you couldn't ask him all the questions you had planned. How many did you manage to ask?"

I glanced at her.

"I'm not sure. Maybe around five? Or even fewer. Man, I can't remember."

"Well, I guess it's time to move on. You'll have to find another fascinating person to interview. If you need help, I can ask my dad for you."

"Mm, thank you but I'm not sure," I sighed. "I really wanted to do this. To succeed. And then I messed it up."

"Forget about Caruso, Don. Don't dwell on it."

I nodded and sighed once again.

"Okay. It hurts me to admit that you're right."

"Good. Because if I were in your shoes, I wouldn't take the risk."

I wasn't thrilled about giving up, and a part of me still clung to the idea.

"I’m off to bed. Goodnight, babe."

"Goodnight~"

I retreated to my bedroom, and once in the privacy of that space, I pulled out my recorder and listened to my brief interview with Anthonio. As the recording played, I could vividly visualize each scene from earlier that day, experiencing it all over again.

While listening to his detailed yet unsettling answers, I had a realization that left me bewildered. I stopped the recording and stared into space, my brows furrowed in confusion.

"Wait," I spoke to myself. "He provided me with far too many specific answers. On many matters, he shouldn't have. He violated the mafia's code of honor. Omertà..."

I sat in wonder for several moments. Why?

Curiosity would kill the cat that I was, but the satisfaction I would derive from obtaining the answers to my questions would revive me. The journalist within me was eager to return to the central prison and face Antonio once more.

‘I’m going back to finish what I started. He is locked up and can't harm me. I’m going to go back and finish what I started. He is locked up and can do me no harm.’

***

Summoning all my courage, I returned to the central prison the following day.

After much pleading, I managed to persuade my uncle to let me finish my interview. I was escorted back to the same interrogation room, where I patiently waited for Anthonio to be brought in.

This time, I was determined and prepared to see it through. I intended to do my job and leave, projecting as much confidence as I could.

After a few minutes, Anthonio was brought in, his chains dragging behind him. We were left alone as he sat across from me. Taking a deep breath, I spoke up.

"Good morning, Mr. Caruso. How are you?" I asked, and there was a brief silence before he responded.

"Didn't expect you back," he replied.

"We have unfinished business, sir. Shall I continue from where we left off?" I inquired, grasping my pen.

When he didn't reply, I looked up at him.

"Your silence implies consent."

He remained cold and impassive.

"Can you provide an estimate of the number of people you have killed?" I asked, having modified my questions overnight to be riskier—the kind that would earn me recognition as the woman who convinced the infamous Caruso to disclose details about his crimes.

"I've bombed many areas and killed numerous people with my own hands. Too many to estimate," Anthonio replied.

"I see," I noted down.

‘You claimed I wasn't very smart, yet here you are, foolishly answering my questions,’ I thought to myself, suppressing a smile as I looked up to ask the next question.

"Rumors suggest you are racist. Is that true?" I asked, unable to meet his gaze, no matter how hard I tried.

"That's new," he muttered. "If I were racist, I wouldn't bother speaking with you."

Clearing my throat, I nodded.