O
lga went to her room to pack her bags, and I intended to do the same, but ended up going to take my third shower of the day. I wasn’t feeling dirty or anything. I just felt like procrastinating a bit in the hot water.Having turned on all the various water jets, I allowed the large bathroom to fill with hot steam. Then I connected my cell phone with a speaker on the dresser and played “Silence” by Delerium, before stepping into the shower and closing my eyes. The water cascading down my back and the music were relaxing. I propped my hands on the wall, allowing the hot stream to engulf my body, silencing the irritating thoughts.
“I missed you,” I heard a voice right behind me.
I twitched, though I knew who it was, of course. My abrupt jolt wasn’t a sign of fear, but a simple reaction to the unexpected sound.
“I decided our goodbye wasn’t affectionate enough,” Massimo said, grabbing my hips.
I didn’t turn to face him, instead grabbing a horizontal bar lined with buttons controlling the water flow. I pressed one, making the nozzles in the
wall spout powerful jets of water. The Man in Black clasped his hands on mine, as his lips made their way up my shoulders, then the neck, to finally my lips. His tongue pushed itself in, tangling with mine. Massimo was naked and wet. He was also ready for me. His knees buckled a bit, and then he shot out with his hips, impaling me on his enormous cock. I moaned, resting the back of my head on his muscular torso. His hands cupped my oversensitive breasts, kneading them lazily, as his hips started to slowly thrust. I could feel the lust growing in me. My body tensed and relaxed to the rhythm of Massimo’s movements.
“You didn’t think I came here just to rub against your butt, did you?” His teeth bit painfully into my ear.
“I hope not, don Torricelli.”
He took me in his hands and carried me from the shower across the bathroom, putting me down by the tall mirror. His strong arms pushed me to the cold counter, and then, with an abrupt jerk, he pulled my head up so I saw his reflection.
“Look at me,” he growled, pushing his cock inside me again.
His free hand landed on my hips for support, and he began pounding me.
It was crazy fast. My eyes narrowed in ecstasy. I was slipping away.
“Open your eyes!” he roared.
They snapped wide open. I looked at him. There was madness in his eyes. He was controlling himself, but just barely. It turned me on even more. My fingers bit into the rim of the sink, trying to immobilize my body.
My lips parted, and I moistened them with my tongue.
“Harder, don Massimo,” I whispered.
Veins bulged all over the Man in Black’s body, and his muscles flexed, presenting his immaculate physique in all its glory. Biting his lip, he kept his piercing gaze fixed on me.
“As you wish.” The pace of his movements was deadly. It didn’t even take a minute, and I felt the first wave of bliss rising in my underbelly. “Not yet, baby girl,” he hissed.
His words worked exactly the opposite way they were supposed to. I came almost immediately, still fixing my gaze on Massimo’s reflection. A moan ripped from my throat, quickly rising in cadence and turning into a scream. The Man in Black didn’t slow down even for an instant. A couple of seconds later, I had another orgasm. My breath heaved in my breast, and waves of shivers were going down my spine.
“Kneel,” my lover said as I collapsed on top of the sink.
I couldn’t catch my breath, but did as I was told. Massimo’s manhood entered my mouth, and his hands clasped around my head. He didn’t fuck my throat this time, instead delicately sliding deeper, allowing me to control the pace. His taste told me he was close.
I sucked his cock hungrily, taking it deep.
Massimo’s buttocks tensed, and his breath quickened. He pulled his penis out and came with a loud moan, spurting hot cum all over my wet breasts. His eyes kept fixed on me as he flooded his seed over me. I leaned back and stuck my chest out, letting out a moan as my hand fondled his heavy balls.
When he was finished, he leaned over the marble counter behind me.
“You’ll be the death of me, baby girl,” he gasped out.
I laughed, spreading the sticky white fluid across my tits and sending him a furtive look.
“You think it’s easy?” I asked.
“As if nobody tried before you!” I repeated his words from that first night, when I had tried shooting him with the gun’s safety still on.
Massimo’s lips spread in a sly grin, and his hands cupped my face.
“You’re a good listener. It flatters me, but it’s also a dangerous trait.”
I pushed myself to my feet and faced him, clinging to his muscled torso.
“I hate our goodbyes, Massimo,” I said, suddenly close to tears.
“That’s why we won’t say goodbye this time, baby. I’ll be back before you know it.” He wiped away the remains of his semen with a towel, softly kissing my lips. “Your plane takes off at noon. You’ll be there in a couple hours. Sebastian will pick you up. The same guy who drove you around last time. You have Karol’s number in your phone. If you need anything, call him. He’ll take care of you until I join you.”
I sent him a fearful look. Those instructions sounded ominous. As if I was in some kind of danger. Everything he was doing now was suspicious
—the sudden trip and sending me away to Poland. It wasn’t like him to allow me to stay away for that long.
“Don Massimo… what is really going on?” He didn’t reply, focusing on wiping my breasts clean. “Goddamn it, Massimo!” I cried out, tearing the towel from his hands.
He let them drop limply to his sides as he focused his glare on my eyes.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Laura Torricelli? Nothing is happening.” He took my face in his hands and kissed me. “I love you, baby girl. I’ll join you in three days. I promise. Now stop being angry. My son doesn’t like it.” He stroked my belly and smiled.
“Daughter.”
“I just hope she isn’t a shrew like her mother.”
Having said that, he jumped away, knowing I’d take a swing at him.
I followed him, stark naked, trying to smack him with the wet towel, but he was faster. When I chased him into the bedroom, Massimo grabbed me and threw me onto the bed, pinning me down.
“You complete me, my love. I wake up every morning and feel alive just because of you.” His eyes were warm and loving as he looked at me. “I thank God every day for that day I nearly died and saw you in my dream.”
He pressed his lips to mine. “I need to go now. Call me if anything happens.”
He tore away from me, got up, and went to the dressing room, returning a couple of minutes later in his standard black suit and shirt. He gave me another kiss and went downstairs.
I woke up early. It was only seven. I spent the next fifteen minutes in bed, watching TV, before going to the bathroom and taking my fourth shower in the last twenty-four hours. I had all the time in the world. I didn’t have to look good with Massimo away, but I spent some time doing makeup and perfecting my coiffure.
Then it was time to pack my things. Daunted by the task, I sat on the rug in the dressing room. Of course, Maria could pack for me as usual, but this trip required a very precise choice of outfits. I rummaged through my things, digging out a pile of expensive clothes. Most of my favorite things wouldn’t hide my belly. In fact, they would do the exact opposite. When I was on Sicily, I liked to show off my pregnancy, but in Poland I’d rather wear a tarpaulin than display my growing abdomen. It would have felt so good to be able to tell the entire world about the baby I was going to have. I curled up in the heap of shirts, blouses, and dresses.
“Having a yard sale?” Olga asked, appearing in the door with a cup of coffee in her hand. “I’m taking it all!”
“Damn, Olga,” I cried, perched on top of my heap of clothes. “I don’t have anything to wear! I don’t even have anything for the winter. There are no winters on Sicily!”
Olga placed her cup on the table with a decisive motion and let out a piercing cry.
“The horror!” she wailed. “We’ll have to go shopping.” She collapsed to her knees right next to me. “What shall we do?”
I sent her an angry gaze. How could she be making fun of me now? I really didn’t need any more clothes!
“Oh, fuck off,” I hissed, tossing the few things I had already picked into my suitcase. “At least I still have my shoes,” I said, hugging a pair of my Givenchy boots. “You ready?”
“More than you are.”
We had breakfast and then spent some more time packing my things.
Before eleven, we were sitting in the car, driving to the airport. I took a pill before we stepped on deck of the private jet.
I took a seat and blacked out right before we took off. Every trip was teleportation with that simple trick.
“Nice to see you again, madam,” Sebastian greeted me, opening the door to his Mercedes for me.
“Right back at you.” I flashed him a wide smile and took a seat in the limo. A while later we drove into the underground garage beneath my apartment. Another minute, and we were there.
“Why don’t I go to my place?” Olga asked, reclining on the sofa. “I do have my own apartment.”
I put the kettle on and took a peek in the fridge. Surprisingly, it was filled to bursting.
“Because Massimo wanted us to stay together. Besides, why would you want to be alone? Don’t you like me no more?”
I reached for a jar of chocolate pudding and dipped a spoon in it. Olga walked over, stopping in the doorway and leaning against the wall.
“What’re we going to do? I just feel disoriented and… alienated.” She grimaced and then pouted.
“I know. Me too. Isn’t it weird how much a few months can change?
We’ll go to our parents’ tomorrow. I to mine, you to yours. We need to prepare them for the fact we won’t be spending Christmas together.”
The thought of going to see my parents made me feel nauseous. I did miss them, but the need to put on a show to keep them in the dark was too much for me.
“Look,” Olga said, looking out the window. “Snow. Motherfucking snow.”
We stood side by side, gaping at the wintry landscape outside as if it were something out of the ordinary. And I dreamed of returning to Sicily.
“Shopping,” I muttered with my face glued to the window. “We need something to lift our spirits.”
“About that,” Olga said, turning to face me. “Domenico gave me a credit card. It’s got my name on it.” She raised her eyebrows and nodded her head.
“I’m getting the impression that he tries to be like Massimo a lot. So the thing is, I’m not sure if he really feels this way or is just trying to copy his brother.”
The scene I had witnessed in the study yesterday flashed through my mind. I wasn’t decided if I should tell her, but finally settled on keeping it to myself. It wasn’t any of my business, after all, and I didn’t want to be the one to spoil the surprise.
“You’re overthinking it. Let’s down that tea and go get me some baggy clothes.”
“You’re overthinking it, too. Your belly is barely showing. Don’t worry.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t know.” I put my hands over my belly and stroked the bulge.
“Maybe you’re right, but I know my mom. She’ll know I’m pregnant. Trust me. Better safe than sorry.”
An hour, a tea, half a dozen candy bars, and a jar of Nutella later, we parked my white BMW by the mall. In the meantime, we had changed into something more appropriate for the cold Polish winter. I picked my black Givenchy boots, leather leggings I barely squeezed myself into, a loose cream-colored tunic, and a gray fox-fur vest. Olga went with what she liked the best—shorts and thigh-high Stuart Weitzman boots, a loose sweater matching the shoes, and a leather jacket. Hooker style. Her signature outfit.
We wandered around shops and boutiques, spending heaps of cash and collecting dozens of heavy bags filled with winter clothes. It wasn’t strictly necessary to have as much winter stuff as we bought, especially since it wouldn’t be of any use back in Italy. In the end, to drown out the pangs of guilt, we agreed to leave all of it in Poland. We’d need the things in the
future, probably. With that thought in mind, we spent some more of our men’s cash. My cell rang as we left yet another store. I pulled it out and saw the number was unlisted. I smiled.
“Hey there, baby girl.” That gorgeous British accent sounded over the phone. “How’s shopping?”
“Perfect. Baggy clothes are my new favorite thing,” I replied sarcastically. “How did you know where I was?” As soon as I asked, I realized what a stupid question that was.
“Your phone has a tracker built in, honey. Your watch, too. And your car,” Massimo replied with a laugh. “And the red dress you just bought is beautiful. It’s not baggy at all.”
A shiver went down my spine as I nervously looked around. How did he know what I had bought? I was about to ask him, when I noticed two tall men lounging nearby.
“Why do I need security, don Massimo?” I asked. “I’m in Poland, and there’s nothing dangerous here.” I hesitated. “Right?”
“Of course not,” he replied at once. “I just like to be sure my two most beloved people are safe.”
“You’re talking about me and Olga, I presume?” I laughed and sat down on a bench.
Massimo muttered something in Italian. I didn’t catch it. “You and my son.”
“Daughter!” I cut in.
“You are not allowed to wear that red dress until I see it with my own eyes.” His voice was full of authority. I could picture his face as he said it.
“Now go back to your shopping. Say hi to your parents from me.”
I sighed, putting the phone back in my handbag. I sent Olga a glance.
She put two fingers in her mouth, pretending to gag.
“I’m gonna puke,” she grumbled, rolling her eyes.
“Now, now. Don’t be jealous.” I grimaced and got up, taking her hand.
“We got company,” I said, pointing at the security guards. “They’re documenting all our purchases.”
“Fucking hell,” Olga swore. “He’s even worse than your mom.”
“That is a fact.” I snorted with laughter. “Now come with me.”
The next day, dressed in a baggy tunic that was tightish only around my breasts, a pair of leggings, and a coat, I headed out to my parents’ place. I’d decided not to tell them I was coming. This was going to be a surprise. Olga
hopped out on the way, by the apartment block her parents were living in.
My parents’ was the only place I had ever thought of as home. A long time ago, my brother and I had decided that we’d never live there, but we wouldn’t sell the house, either. Kuba lived nearly three hundred miles away, and—as long as I had stayed in Warsaw—the distance between me and our folks was close to one hundred and fifty. It didn’t change the fact that my happiest memories had always been the ones from our parents’ house.
Mom had done a lot of work to make the garden look gorgeous, and the building itself had changed dramatically over the last couple of years. I couldn’t imagine anyone else living there but us.
Now I was standing on the porch. I rang the doorbell. The door opened, and my dad appeared.
“Oh, my goodness! Hello there, darling,” he said, beaming and pulling me inside. “What are you doing here? You look astonishing!”
I could see his eyes were watering, so I gave him a great hug.
“Surprise,” I whispered, cuddling against his shoulder.
My breathtaking mother walked through the door, impeccably dressed and wearing full makeup.
“Dear child,” she cried, spreading her arms wide.
I threw myself into her embrace and started crying, who knows why.
Every time she reacted emotionally to my appearance, it made my eyes tear up.
“Mommy.”
“Why are you crying, darling?” she asked, stroking my hair. “Has something happened? Why are you here?”
Pessimism was my mother’s primary peculiarity. She loved worrying about anything and everything, coming up with problems even if there were none.
“It’s all right, I-I-I just got emotional,” I stammered, sniffing.
“Now, now, darling, that’s enough.” She patted me on the back. “Tom, why don’t you make us some tea?”
My ability to come up with creative lies was about to be tested. I told my parents about training in Budapest and how wonderful I was doing at work.
I spun them a long and winding tale of entirely imaginary parties that I had supposedly thrown, and when they inevitably asked about learning Italian, I just said the three or four words I knew and changed the subject.
An hour and a half of monologuing, it was time to check out Dad’s new telescope—the one he had really got from Massimo, though officially it had been a gift from me. I watched him bustling about the cardboard cylinder, assembling the device, muttering something to himself.
“This may take a while,” Mom said, bringing out a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
“Shit,” I cursed under my breath. I hadn’t predicted that. I should have.
Mother poured the wine and raised her glass, waiting for me to follow.
Panicking, I raised my glass and wet my lips in the dark beverage. It was unbearably good. I had missed the taste of wine. If I could, I would have downed the whole bottle.
Dad was still fumbling with the telescope, trying to aim it at something, while Mom poured herself more.
“Don’t you like it?” she asked, seeing I wasn’t drinking my wine. “It’s your favorite Moldavian pinot noir.”
“I… don’t drink anymore,” I spluttered. Her stare couldn’t mean anything good. “You see, Mom, everyone drinks all the time in Italy.” I quickly tried to put the lie together, frantically thinking of what to say. “And alcohol means carbs!” I said, finally, sending her a hesitant smile.
“Yes, I noticed you looked rather…” Mom paused, looking for a word.
“… plump. Did you stop working out?”
No, I’m just fucking pregnant, I thought, keeping the smile plastered to my face.
“No time for exercise lately. All the time to eat, unfortunately. Especially at work. Pizza and pasta all the time, you know? I’ve been gaining weight for weeks now.” I tried to mask the lie with more words, praying she bought it. “That’s why I quit drinking. To cleanse my body.” It wasn’t going to be an easy sell. I had always loved wine and never refused it. I’d more likely stop eating than say no to a glass of good red.
Mother watched me closely for a long while, clearly suspicious, turning the glass in her fingers. Her narrowed eyes were telling me that she didn’t believe a word of what I’d said. My beloved father saved me.
“There it is! Come and see, Laura.” He called me to the telescope.
I jumped up and launched myself in his direction, quickly sticking an eye to the visor. There it was. My dad had found the moon. It looked beautiful magnified by the lens. I babbled, marveling at the beauty of the silver globe with more enthusiasm than I actually felt. Luckily, my dad had