Quite frankly, I didn't need to share this information with him. But seeing the Santo Ganovese get all worked up is incredibly funny. "She accepts tips from that stronzo?" he almost starts shouting as he reaches out with an indignant hand in the direction Henry has taken. "Exactly." "Why?" I cringe at his question and feel like openly mocking him. "I don't know, maybe because Henry tells her directly at the register that she can keep the change, and he doesn't make her run out into the cold street so he can say that to her." "He's a weakling." The Madonna! How hard it is to keep from laughing! "A rich weakling," I retort. The Ganovese are the biggest fortune in the state. "Polite, kind, helpful, thoughtful..." I list. "Rubbish. Is this the kind of politeness that appeals to women?" "Maybe so. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Santo kicked one of the hall cha
He just nods, a sad smile on his lips: "He's the love of your life, Lucia. I'm no one to tell you what to feel or not. And, besides, if he's as handsome as the specimen currently in the waiting room, that's got to be pretty good for accepting reclusion." I immediately glare at him, and he raises his hands to the sky as a sign of peace. "Oops, I said too much," he says before pretending to zip his lips. I nod: "I love Elio more than anything on this earth." "I know, sweetie." "He agreed to let me go out today and go home." "And it's great to have you in the flesh today, Lucia. What else, my beauty?" "The sex is fantastic." Henry half chokes on a sip of coffee and has to put a hand to his lips to stifle his laughter. "Okay, Lucia. Good for you." "But..." "Ah... the but I was waiting for!" "He wants to sell my apartment.""Ah... yes, sir needs to be in constant control." "Santo has to be on my back all
A heavy silence has settled between us. My laughing in the kitchen was over. I should have remained in control and not let my guard down. But it's impossible. Elio makes me forget everything. His simple presence fills my life with unspeakable joy. I am like a drug addict in rehab who is offered a stick... Just for one night. And my body, my mind, and my heart are plunging back into addiction. Elio takes a step back and looks at my outfit with contempt. He opens one of the drawers on the island that separates my kitchen from my living room and takes out a long meat knife. Of course, he does. He must have already opened and searched everything before I arrived. This is part and parcel of Elio's life. Control. Perfect control over everything and for everything. No one escapes him—even me. I was able to live away from him for three years. It was never easy, and I stopped counting the number of times I had to slap myself in the face
Elio puts the spoon back on the marbled island, takes my face with both hands, and begins to place kisses on my lips. I open my mouth to make it easier for him, but he pulls away. I curse myself as I hear the little moan I make when he breaks the contact of his lips on my skin. "You don't like me kissing you when you eat, Amore mio. Let me feed you," he says darkly. It's horrible. My body is on fire, and I want him to relieve me. My breathing is entirely jerky. I'm sure Elio's pants are soaked where I sit. I want him. I want it now. I don't care about this salad at all. I want him. Elio grabs a lettuce leaf between his thumb and forefinger. Then he comes and places it before my lips: "Open," he orders me. I try to step back, but my wrists are still locked behind his head. I open my mouth and run my tongue over his fingers in pure provocation. Elio has just taken a deep breath, and his lips are half-open. He i
Elio removes the tie from my wrists while placing small kisses on my face. Then, with infinite gentleness, he begins to massage the reddened skin of my hands, my thighs, and my neck. I let him do it. I am lost in a trance under the care he lavishes on me. My lips seek his, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he finally gives me the kiss I've been waiting for. Merda. This has to stop. Elio removes the pen holding my hair in place and casually tosses it in front of the glass coffee table in my living room. My hair falls gracefully to my back, and he takes the opportunity to run his fingers over my head to give me a massage. I'm still sitting on him, and he's still inside me. I want to get up. I don't want him to pull away. I close my eyes and squeeze his shirt between my fingers as a tear rolls down my cheek. Elio leaves his lips resting on the top of my head and massages my back. The rough skin of his fingers causes new goosebump
"It's not time to go home," Santo simply stipulates once I join him in the car. I reapply lipstick while looking at myself with my cell phone camera: "Why does it matter if we arrive at 3:50 or 4:00?" I reply. Santo tenses up and then turns his head towards me. Merda. He just noticed. I see his eyes light up as he notices the red marks on my thighs, wrists, and throat: "Did Elio do this to you?" he whispers darkly. I close my lipstick and carelessly toss it inside my purse. My whole outfit has been completely changed. Elio has chosen that I wear a straight white dress, cinched at the waist. I purposely accessorized my outfit with an oversized scarf to hide my throat. But I didn't anticipate that the bottom of the dress would ride up so high on my thighs, nor that the silk fabric would slide over my elbows during the car ride: "That's none of your business, Santo." "Me ne freggo (I don't give a damn*). It's against the famil
Rage. I am shaking. My hands are frozen. My feet are frozen. My heart freezes, too, little by little, as I see the family photos spread out on the floor. My shoulders heave under my labored breathing. I can still feel on my ankles, my blood flowing, my skin pierced by the shards of glass from the photo frames. This woman dared to bring her children into my house. Elio dared to receive these children in my house. I lift my head and walk toward the curtains of our bedroom. I can hardly breathe. I trip over my stilettos and pull them back, throwing them furiously at a window, spraying a window. I am still suffocating. I grab the heavy drapes, held up by elegant ties on the side, and rip them off in a destructive madness. Please help me. I feel the soles of my feet being pierced by the shards of glass, but I don't feel any pain as severe as the one burning my veins. I want them back. I can hear the
(Three years before) Gabriele and Stella kept running around me. The three of us were waiting in the lobby for Elio to join us for dinner at one of the great Italian restaurants in town. Our son, Gabriele, had lifted his little sister to show me how big and strong he had become at seven years old. Stella burst out laughing and begged her brother to put her down. She had just turned five but was determined to act like a big girl. Then she squealed with joy when she saw her father coming out of his office. Gabriele had been reluctant to put his little sister down, but he had smiled broadly when he saw her being lifted into the air by their father. My treasures were exact copies of Elio, much to his dismay. Our children had inherited their Family's characteristic dark blue eyes and dark brown hair. He had spent the night trying to convince me to give him another baby, preferably a little girl who would look just like me: "Amore mio, a little girl who would have your hair, and your
Cazzo. Of course, Elio knows! But who told him? Which of our men hastened to tell him... and if. What if Elio goes after Didi? What if Elio drags her down here and forces her to be with me? I'm such an idiot. Elio would never do that. My brother's far too cautious. It's not like him to act this way. The proof is that he still hasn't gone looking for Lucia. "There is no girl. Everything you've been told is bullshit," I reply at last. Elio wobbles, and I can see that he's struggling to stay on his feet before me. The dampness of the air over the last few days must be reawakening the pain in his leg. However, he's still coming closer to me, and I can smell the rancid odor of alcohol on his breath. I nervously start banging my knees. "The famous prostitute everyone's talking about?" asks Elio. His expression is icy. There's been no humanity left in my older brother for almost three years now. Elio loses his balance, and I rush forward to pick him up. He reeks of alcohol and tob
Santo : I finally arrive at Villa Ganovese. Eduardo, our old butler, rushes up to me and grabs my leather jacket as I furiously throw it towards the coat rack. Cazzo. I've got to break something. I've got to... I grab the coat rack and rip it from the wall where it was hung last month. Eduardo looks at me, annoyed, but withdraws without saying anything. Besides, this isn't my first crisis. So he knows it's never a good idea to stand too close to me when this happens. Cazzo. Cazzo. Cazzo. I've got to calm down. I nervously run my hands through my hair as I head straight for the kitchen. I take a moment to glance at the large clock, a veritable jewel of goldsmith's art, steel, and craftsmanship, hanging on the wall. I don't know how Lulu managed to find something like this. Only the hands are visible, and there's nothing to indicate the presence of a plug or motor. Cazzo! It's not yet time for me to eat when I'm in Vill
I look at him and start yawning without even putting my hand in front of my mouth. I start laughing the moment he grabs a handful of my hair. I take advantage of this and immediately pull his ponytail in the opposite direction. We look perfectly stupid with our heads tilted to one side, challenging each other with our eyes. "Let go," Salvatore articulates slowly. "Only if you let go first, Sali," I reply, also gritting my teeth. "Stop being childish," Vincenzo orders with a sigh. Salvatore and I let go at the same time, raising our hands. Then he finally comes out, shaking my hair to annoy me. "I want cannoli for breakfast tomorrow," Salvatore declares. "You can stick them wherever I think," I reply, giving him a masterful middle finger under the disapproving gaze of my eldest brother. I hear Salvatore laugh and can't help smiling back. Of course, I'll give him all the cannoli in the universe. Cazzo. He's a bastard, but I love him. Ha! I'll put thos
(Didi) "Let go of me, Vin," I say, trying to free my arm from my older brother's grip. He doesn't let go until the black doors of his armored car open. Vincenzo almost throws me inside, and I immediately find myself seated between Salvatore and Terzo. "We've found her, Don Vincenzo," declares one of our men. I hear Salvatore and Terzo stifle a laugh, then they both put an arm around my shoulders. "In the other car. I've got urgent family business to attend to," replies my eldest brother. I frown, realizing that my brothers have come to pick up a woman. Who is she? "A target," I ask. But Terzo presses his index finger against my temple. "Stai zitto (shut up*), Didi," he orders me. I cross my arms over my chest and just stare into the central rearview mirror so I can observe the expression on Vincenzo's face. But that's a waste of time. The Bonanis aren't known for being very expressive. Salvatore's furious gaze doesn't escape me, and I end up looking
"How much do I take?" I repeat. Santo suddenly pulls me into a hug, and I'm wondering whether I'm dreaming or not. I realize I'm sitting right on his... the Madonna! He looks thrilled to see me there! If I'm dreaming... really, it would be great if I could avoid waking up too quickly. I try to sit up, leaning on his shoulders, but he holds me firmly and starts laughing. Oh, dear. The things his laughter does to my body. "Kiss me, Didi," he commands, sliding his hands just under my chest. "Wh...what?" I reply, pulling my head back. Damn, this dream sounds too real to be true. I know. What I'm saying doesn't make sense, but wow. Santo grabs my jaw with one hand, his eyes are locked on my mouth, and he's looking at me like I'm a white chocolate pana cotta with raspberry coulis. "I want you to kiss me, Didi," he says seriously. Santo straightens up to kiss me. Hey. SANTO GETS UP TO KISS ME!? I'm frozen in place. What should I do? A) let him do it. B
(Didi) Santo presses me against him with a sharp gesture. Wini gives me a big smile before releasing my hands and winking away. Great, sister! She abandons me as soon as a slightly attractive guy touches me. Well, okay. He's not just any guy. Yes. I also agree that it's THE good-looking guy who gropes me, but still! You can't say you're the sister who's looking out for me and abandoning me to the first frotter who comes along... even if that frotter is a living god on whom I'd rather rub myself indecently, but... Hey. I don't know if he's got a flashlight in his pants or if it's... oh. A shiver runs down my spine. Santo's hand moves up under my crop top and stops where my bra is. "It's Santo," he whispers in my ear in a husky voice. To say my panties are soaked at this precise moment is an understatement. It's a fucking tidal wave, and I have to squeeze my legs. I feel like if I breathe or move a millimeter, my thighs will get soaked too. It's the sexies
One of the bartenders waves me over - I know from memory that he's the one in charge of the bar - and he nods towards Wini: "Go get her," he orders me. I nod quickly and feel a warmth gradually building in my chest. Wow. This is the first time I've felt "safe" as a woman among ordinary citizens. Wini was right when she said the employees here were one big family. I quickly put down my tray and move through the crowd to put a hand on Wini's shoulder: "Hey. We need reinforcements. Big order on the way, and I need arms." I don't glance at Wini, but I observe the stronzo standing before her. He's ogling me from head to toe. Moron thinks he's at the top of the food chain in his little striped shirt and gold chains. I just want to jam my pen into his jugular when I see him licking his lips. Wini is completely tense, but she pulls me toward the bar. However, I don't know why, but my eyes land behind the stronzo. And now I'm terrified too. Vincenzo is there. Behind him are my
(Didi-a little before the events in the nightclub.) I got home last night and had to sneak through Villa Bonani to avoid being intercepted by my brothers. There is no way I would let any of them ask me questions and start looking through my things. I'm lying in my room, dressed simply in a large black knit and panties, as I take out my pay for the evening. Between my fingers, I manipulate the sum I've collected in a single night. I'm amazed by the ease with which I've been able to gather so much money so quickly. "So much money?" I say aloud with irony and bitterness. I'm not even close. Merda. At this rate, I'm going to have to take on contracts if I want to get the hell out of this house as soon as possible. No, no, no, Didi. You've done everything you can to become an ordinary citizen. Keep your goal in mind, I can't help but scold myself. I need money. I've got a newspaper spread out in front of me, and I'm horrified by the rent prices. If I take into accoun
(Santo) Did I listen to Matteo and go home to change? Absolutely. Did I scour the net for "total boyfriend" chick mags to find out what to wear? Absolutely. Did I nag our employees for THE outfit for tonight? Yes, I did. So here I am, surrounded by my bodyguards, as we walk past everyone into the strip club-turned-nightclub. No sooner had I arrived than Alvize, the manager, ran up to me and nodded towards the VIP section of the nightclub. Cazzo. My five cousins are all here already. I can tell by the number of girls in skimpy dresses climbing the steps leading up to the room. I can hear them shouting my name when these stronzi notice me. Cazzo. I wanted to go to the "office" first, ask for Didi to serve me, and then I would have joined them. "Saaaaaantooooo" scream my cousins when I arrive. I find myself having to hug each one of them. But I'm livid because their presence ruins all my plans for tonight. One of them stares me up and down and runs his hands