All Chapters of Infernale: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

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

"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

(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

A crowd of people had come to visit me. I didn't want to see anyone. No one could understand what I was feeling. I threw up all the sympathetic looks. I despised the vague acquaintances who delivered bouquets wishing me a speedy recovery. I consciously ignored Santo and Matteo. I continued to visit Elio, but I left as soon as he mentioned our children. I had recovered enough to walk by myself and went out for a few moments to get some fresh air. Santo had arranged for Elio and me to be in the same room, and I was relieved to be with him again. When I returned to the room, I saw a woman kneeling on the floor, crying her eyes out. "Please, Don Elio... My children are not to blame for the death of your children. If you accepted the organ donation, your children would live on through mine..." I had slowly opened the door and stood frozen in place. How dare this woman talk about my children like that? The woman turned her head toward

I nodded immediately. You don't say no to Santo when he comes in person. "Let me go take a shower and change. I'll meet you outside." Santo finally steps back and places his hand on top of my head. I freeze as his hand completely covers my skull. From the outside, this gesture may seem affectionate, and from my perspective, it's a fucking warning, and it's his way of showing me that I'm in his clutches. "There you go, Lulu. That's how you're loved. Docile and obedient." Stronzo. (Asshole*) 6:00 AM. I finally go out. I wear a simple pair of jeans and a white t-shirt with my sneakers. Usually, I would be on my way to my apartment to change and get ready for work. I frantically tap on my cell phone screen to warn Henry that I might be late. I freeze. Santo stands with his arms crossed in front of his black Rolls-Royce. When he meets my eyes, he shifts and opens the door. "I don't want to get in," I tell him loudly en