I've Got You Under My Skin
WHO: Boss Vargas and his loyal Vassal
WHEN: August 17th, Tuesday Evening
WHERE: The Vargas Mansion
WHAT: He'd tried so not to give in, told himself this (business) affair would never go well...
RATING: R (for Roma)
( 'Don't you know, you Fool, you can never win?' )
WHEN: August 17th, Tuesday Evening
WHERE: The Vargas Mansion
WHAT: He'd tried so not to give in, told himself this (business) affair would never go well...
RATING: R (for Roma)
( 'Don't you know, you Fool, you can never win?' )
With the entire staff on their toes, Roma didn't realize he himself had been on edge until he allowed himself to relax. He knew he wouldn't feel at ease until the other Mafiosos from Italy arrived and even then he still wouldn't be able to shake off the paranoia.
So here in the study, with only Mr. Galante and himself, Roma felt he could be normal. Forget about being a don for an hour or two and focus on being a business man.
It might be near impossible though, he absolutely loved being a don, no matter how lethal it got.
He made his way around the desk and gathered Raivis into his arms as soon as he was in arms length. He gave a good squeeze then let go. "Yes they have been relentless," Roma said with a warm smile. He felt a sudden affection for the young man, not quite the same as he felt for his grandchildren, but the type he felt towards his staff. It could range from a friendly affection to lustful.
With Raivis, it was a little between both.
He gently plucked the papers out of his assistant's hands and placed on the table before motioning for Raivis to sit. He leaned against the desk as he asked "Is there anything troubling Mr. Galante? If there's anything I can do, please do not hesitate to ask."
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Hugged him. There were moments in his life when the breaching of customs he'd known since birth still disturbed him. Sometimes people would call him by his first name when they were only an the level of 'acquaintance'. Sometimes they would embrace him strongly when the situation clearly required something far less informal.
But such an instant, uncomfortable and more than a little unwanted, had not been shared with this man. It never was with Peter or Toris but to feel just as accepting when it was his employer. There should have been metaphorical sirens blaring. 'Not ethical', 'not professional'.
Raivis cleared his throat again, flushed a bright red as per usual, if not a bit darker as he instinctively followed orders to rest.
He had needed reassurance, any sort of reassurance to really hit him that it'd be alright. And that hug, for whatever reason, had somehow cut the last cord keeping the niggling, biting concerns at bay.
"It's... It's terrible, Sir. I-I swear I've been hallucinating for the last w-week and I... It can't be lack of sleep. I've been eating right, I haven't had anything to drink and I don't touch drugs and oh God, I'm so sorry I didn't mean to just... to just... pour that out at you but I can't stop seeing those horrible sound effects and I... Atvainojiet!"
(('Please forgive me!'))
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However it wasn't the worst thing he's heard.
He placed (what he hoped was) a calming hand on Raivis's shoulder and soon began rubbing soothing circles on his back.
"Mr. Galante, perhaps you need to rest? I can prepare a room for you where you may lay down. It worries me to....see you like this."
As heartless as Roma could be, he still had pity. He was truly concerned for his frazzled assistant.
Also, it might put Raivis more at ease around the don if he catered to him like this. And Roma might earn more...liberties with his assistant.
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"N-no, no, this... this n-n-needs t-to b-be d-done..."
One hand automatically reached for something, anything- a paper, a pen- that might ground him. "I-I have to work. I... I'm not a... I'm not this unprofessional usually. Y-you know that, right? I... there's already been enough trouble around the mansion, y-you don't need a malfunctioning a-assistant too..."
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The cruelest part of Roma enjoyed the beauty of Raivis's tears but luckily (for the young man) the concerned part of Roma won out. But there was still something so alluring about comforting a beautiful boy in tears.
"Raivis," Roma said his first name slowly, cautiously, "you are a wonderful assistant. The best I've had in a long time," which was actually true, most ended snooping around too much thus leading to their murders, "and you needn't work if something is troubling you to the point of tears. You've been wonderful for me so far, one day off isn't going to hurt anyone."
Roma pushed off the desk and tugged at their joined hands, trying to persuade Raivis to come with him to a place they could both relax.
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The 'thump thump thump' and 'clackity clacks' winding around their feet eventually forced him to whip his head up and pin his gaze to the various pieces of art he'd gotten to know so well. Beautiful odalisques, Turkish bath houses. Gorgeous Renaissance pieces from the masters he knew to be real.
Raivis's fervent, quiet apologies followed them the entire way, punctuated by reminders that 'a-actually, Miss Bellamy called on behalf of the Lafayette district' and 'Mister Nines will be expecting an email correspondence in response to his inquiries about a missing package'. When at last he calmed enough to stutter out something more than 'really so sorry, s-s-so sorry', it was to offer one last plea. "Ah, Sir, I... I can do this. I could ask Miss Rems to send the paperwork in a-and-"
The boy pulled his phone out of his pocket, scrolling through to his notes. "I-I could take care of it here."
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Unfortunately for him, Roma was good at reading people, the slight tensing of muscles, the sudden pitch in voice, things that told Roma in what state of mind the person was currently in. And Raivis was most definitely disturbed.
He plucked the phone out of Ravis's hands and placed it on a passing tray held by a maid. He informed his assistant he would get it back once Roma was done with him.
Roma considered the bedroom but decided it would further fray his assistant's nerves so he led him outside by the shoulder to an area facing the garden just next to the maze (was that garden maze always there? One of his grandchildren must have approved of it, most likely Feliciano). They sat in a gazebo set up with a small table which had their knees bumping.
He was no therapist but he was good at manipulating people's thoughts, get their minds off things.
Actually on second thought, maybe he would be a good therapist.
"Tell me Raivis," he didn't seem bothered by the use of his first name so Roma continued to use it, "When did this all start?"
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Raivis gnawed at his bottom lip, largely unaware of how much his restless movement was actually fidgeting separate from the tremors seizing his limbs. He kept his hands folded in his lap, but his legs shifted about and his foot kept tapping against the ground.
'Tap'. 'Taptaptaptapta-'
He squeezed his eyes shut. "Th-that's... that's the thing, Mister Vargas. Er, that I...I'm not sure, but I think it was just shortly after I got back from City Hall. Ever since then, it's b-been getting progressively worse. A-almost as bad as the Charleston apartment complex transforming into a castle over night... O-or was I seeing that too? D-did that even happen?"
His hands were white knuckled and gripping the edge of the table before he fully registered movement at all. He grit his teeth together, inhaling sharply.
Had to pull it together. This was a work environment- Should have been one. He choked on another sob.
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Right?
Roma held back a groan. He was not about to doubt his own sanity as well. He didn't understand how therapists could listen to this all day and not go crazy themselves. Or maybe they had and they were just really good at hiding it.
Roma leaned into his chair as his concern was slowly turning into impatience. He asked himself, 'why are you doing this?'
I wanted to get into his pants, obviously. There should be no other reason...I have no time to make friends. Only connections.
But you're obviously not good at this. This is not how Roma Vargas handles things.
You're right.
"A bottle of wine and two glasses please!" he called out to one of the butlers who was conveniently standing close to the gazebo just in case the don needed anything. Then as an afterthought Roma added "and a pair of earmuffs," he turned to Raivis, "is it too loud out here Mr. Galante?"
He tried to forget the earlier affections he held for Raivis, it wasn't the boy's presence he missed but his looks, of course. And the concern was only a facade, it was all part of the plan. Yes, that's it. There was a reason Roma had spent most of his time with his staff, his people, rather than the normal citizens of Liberty, and that included his grandsons. It reminded him of what he had to leave behind in order to keep his control. The rebel mafioso were correct when they said Roma had gone soft.
Roma had to choose, it was either lose all shred of humanity he had left (the love he felt for his grandchildren and others, including his assistant) in order to properly be a don or allow himself to keep his soft underbelly and remain vulnerable (which hadn't been a problem in Italy, he was sure of his power in that country).
Maybe it was Roma who needed to see a therapist.
When the glasses arrived, the waiter poured them their wine and Roma had him fill their glasses to the top. The pair of fuzzy earmuffs were placed next to the bottle.
"How about a few glasses of wine and then we'll head back inside do some work to get our mind off things. Afterward, I'll treat you to the dinner I promised you," Roma suggested before taking a sip of wine.
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He doubled over briefly, clutching at his chest as he let the last vestiges of his tears flow with the jerky hacking.
Stupid, stupid child. Too easily could he still hear his grandmother's throaty muttering from amongst his memories. Viss notiek likumsakarīgī, Raivis. For a Galante, nothing else.
'Every thing happens for a reason.'
If he was seeing sound effects literally popping up everywhere, there was a 'reason'. Logically, the same reason for throwing back expensive Italian wine without expressing the proper gratitude to the superior who had offered it was the same allowing one professional relationship after another to gradually shred into fine granules of Awkward and Regret. Everything came back to a growing conviction that the Reason- The Reason- life was going wrong was the mother of all nervous breakdowns.
Honestly, an immediate order for alcohol after concerns posed for the castle-that-surely-was-the-Charleston complex did not curry much in his favor.
Raivis sniffed again, hiding his face by ducking his chin against his chest. "Really, I... I cannot a-a-apologize enough for this... this rude behavior. I-I should have followed your insistence on staying home but I...I was too prideful...too d-dead set on proving it was nothing..."
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"No need to apologize. You have done nothing wrong and I believe pride is an admirable trait. Though we all have our limits," he muttered the last bit around the rim of his glass as he cradled it close to his lips.
He handed Raivis his handkerchief once more and told him he was allowed to keep it. He motioned for the waiter to fill their glasses again. He leaned back in his chair and stared at his secretary and his eyes darkened when he realized how fragile this man's existence was. He could easily kill him right then, just wrap his hand around the small neck and squeeze or just reach for one of the hidden weapons on his body and simply pull a trigger.
But what disturbed him was the same could happen to himself.
Raivis looked fragile but there could be something darker about the boy, something Roma has not seen. And then the tables would be turned and it would be Roma's neck whose breathe was being squeezed out of, his head at the end of the barrel.
He gulped down his second cup of wine. He didn't like thinking about his immortality.
"...And I believe the Charleston was replaced with a castle for a few days," he said as an afterthought, a change of subject, reassurance he wasn't the only one losing his sanity, "A bit of an eyesore but it was interesting to say the least."
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He could be told repeatedly, over and over, that his repentance wasn't necessary but Raivis, always, gave it regardless. For a while, his attempts to keep the overabundant pleas minimized had been surprisingly successful. He'd been happy, confident that he could, in fact, live and let go.
Until the structural supports buoying him had been smashed in with yet another sledgehammer. The dawn of more conflict was fast approaching, he could feel it, and what would happen after that- if the sound effects would get worse, more frequent, if the music following him got louder, if something else strange would rocket into his life- Raivis dreaded.
It made him look at Roma anew. Shakily reach out and touch the weathered, tanned skin of the man's hand curled around glass. A warm hand. A real one. "E-ever since that incident in April, I-I guess I've just been... m-more on edge than I thought."
The contact was withdrawn and Raivis swiped at his eyes. "I j-just want to do my best for you, Sir. For everyone. W-who is still here anyway. We've been losing q-quite a few members of the staff lately..."
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