Mario logged into his Vatican email, hoping there would be a message from Cardinal Borelli waiting for him. Perhaps the cardinal, paranoid about getting sick by Mario, would grant him a day off on Monday too? He could use the extra day for research.
But there were no new emails from the cardinal. Mario knew he would have to face his duties on Monday: scanning the Archive documents, while doing his best to avoid Cardinal Borelli. Any questions about the decoy journal could send him into a panic, arousing the cardinal’s suspicion. If questioned, Mario knew he would eventually crack and confess to stealing the journal from the Vatican Secret Archives. He was a terrible liar. Ultimately, he would lose his esteemed position in the Vatican.
Closing his laptop, he decided it would be safer in Roberto’s mansion than in his own apartment and left it on the couch. He grabbed his backpack and departed Roberto’s mansion, heading back to his apartment for the night.
Chapter 70
March 10, 2000
Friday Evening, 11:30 p.m.
Rome, Italy
Roberto roared up to the swanky Roman nightclub, La Dolce Vita, in his gleaming, brand-new sunflower-yellow Lamborghini Murciélago. The intoxicating growl of its 6.2-liter six-speed V-12 engine, boasting a staggering 575 horsepower, rattled the Roman streets as he drove, turning heads and drawing attention. He made sure to rev the engine just before pulling up to the nightclub, a siren call to the valet.
Giuseppe, the valet, always looked forward to Roberto’s arrival. He was like a signal flare to the city’s most stunning women. Word would spread like wildfire through the female network in Rome of his presence, and soon the nightclub would be awash with women in figure-hugging dresses and vibrant colors. Giuseppe would offer his hand to each as they stepped from their limousines and cabs, each one a vision of beauty, each one hoping to be chosen to accompany Roberto home that night.
Giuseppe recalled a quote he’d read in Car & Driver that seemed to encapsulate Roberto’s lifestyle perfectly:
“A Ferrari,” the owner of both sports cars explained, “is the nice girl you take home to Mom and Dad. The Lamborghini is the wild slut you sleep around with on the side.”
Roberto, with his newfound wealth from the Microsoft windfall, had no interest in settling down or discovering his roots, no need for a nice girl. His Lamborghini and insatiable lust for pleasure suited his chosen lifestyle to a tee. With his money, his Lamborghini, and his reputation, he had his pick of the stunning women inside the nightclub. The possibilities were endless.
This is going to be a wild night, Giuseppe mused to himself, striding towards the Lamborghini.
“Buona sera, signore,” the sleek-tuxedo-clad Giuseppe called out over the Lamborghini’s engine, greeting his favorite patron.
“Buona sera, Giuseppe. What’s the atmosphere like inside?”
“You’ll want to have a word with Romeo,” the valet suggested, taking Roberto’s keys and shaking his hand, accepting the generous tip. “He’s got a real catch for you tonight.”
Slipping into the driver’s seat, Giuseppe maneuvered the powerful supercar a mere twenty feet to its prime parking spot right in front of the elite establishment. The owner had a clear strategy: showcase the most luxurious cars right at the entrance. This was free publicity, luring people to queue up and pay the cover charge for the privilege of rubbing shoulders with the nightclub’s elite guests. Displaying Roberto’s car was a particular favorite, as it attracted the crème de la crème of female clientele. With Roberto in the house, the presence of these high-end beauties drew in wealthy hangers-on eager to impress, hoping to escort one of the remaining ladies home for the evening. On such nights, the upscale nightclub reaped handsome profits thanks to Roberto’s presence. He was always a welcome guest, and in return, Roberto enjoyed unparalleled service during his visits.
“Buona sera, Romeo. I hear you have some news for me.”
Romeo, having already prepared Roberto’s drink as soon as he spotted his high-tipping regular, slid it across the bar.
Leaning in for a discreet conversation, Romeo subtly nodded to the left. “The lady in red at the end of the bar might pique your interest.”
“Mille grazie.” Roberto placed a $100 bill on the bar, picked up his drink, and began to saunter towards the lady in red.
“Hold on, signore,” Romeo called out, stopping Roberto in his tracks. “She’s drinking this.” Romeo slid a martini with two olives across the bar towards Roberto.
Roberto grinned at Romeo. “You’re a lifesaver. You always know how to take care of me. Grazie.” He slid another $100 bill across the bar, picked up both drinks, and resumed his journey towards the woman in the red dress.
“Buona sera, bellissima,” Roberto greeted.
The blonde swiveled, her smile a dazzling display of pearly whites framed by ruby red lips, her flawless skin barely concealed by expertly applied makeup. Her golden tresses cascaded around her shoulders, partially veiling her ample bosom as she turned to face Roberto. “Buona sera.”
Roberto’s usually smooth facade faltered at her radiant beauty. This woman was in a league of her own. Despite his wealth and status, Roberto was fundamentally a geeky programmer. He tried to emulate the suave James Bond with his designer clothes, luxury cars, and opulent mansion, but at his core, he was a lucky nerd who had struck gold by selling his software company. It was his millions that made him attractive to women. But this woman was different. She was sophisticated.
“I’m Roberto,” he managed to say, regaining some of his composure. “The bartender said you’re drinking one of these.” He raised the martini towards her, his confidence returning.
“How thoughtful of you,” the blonde responded flirtatiously, tilting her head to the side and grinning. “I’m Paola.”
Paola’s warm response eased Roberto’s nerves. He might even stand a chance with this goddess. “Care to dance?” He extended his hand, attempting to appear confident. This was his usual tactic to progress to the next stage of his pickup routine—lead the woman to the dance floor.
Placing the cocktail on the bar, Paola delicately took his hand and followed Roberto’s lead. They took to the floor and began swaying to the rhythm of the music, cutting loose. The song soon transitioned to a slow dance, and without hesitation, Paola draped her arms over Roberto’s shoulders, her hands clasped behind his neck, indicating she wanted to continue dancing. He reciprocated, his arms encircling her slender waist, their bodies swaying in sync. The woman moved closer, resting her head on Roberto’s shoulder.
He was thoroughly enjoying this intimate moment with the stunning blonde. This is going better than I could have ever imagined, he thought. The woman he had deemed out of his league was now melting into his arms. How did I get so lucky?
Paola lifted her head to whisper into Roberto’s ear, “Why don’t we go back to your place.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he took her hand and led her towards the exit, the blonde following his lead.
Giuseppe, spotting Roberto heading for the door, grabbed the keys to the Murciélago, sprinted to the sports car, and positioned it at the entrance, where Roberto and Paola were presently engaged in a passionate kiss.
“Your chariot awaits, Sir Roberto,” Giuseppe said, elevating his language and likening Roberto to a prince with his princess.
Breaking away from his kiss, Roberto responded, “Grazie, my good man.”
Roberto helped the stunning blonde into the front seat of his Lamborghini. Despite her tight red dress, she slid gracefully into the low-slung leather seat. Roberto closed the scissor door and quickly moved to the driver’s side. Giuseppe held the door open for Roberto. After shaking the valet’s hand to slip him one last $100 bill, Roberto winked as he slid into the car. The pair of lovebirds sped off into the cool night.
Chapter 71
March 10, 2000
Earlier that Afternoon
