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Infernale Santo
I stood kneeling on the thick red carpet, clenching my fists firmly on my upper thighs, trying to reduce the shaking of my body. I know this office by heart. I'm even the one who chose the colors and the carpet I'm standing on today. I selected every decorative element and every supply. However, the man sitting comfortably on the black leather chair in the office is not the one for whom I made the decoration. He takes a puff on his cigar and leans forward toward my face. Thus, I am forced to close my eyes so they are not burned by the smoke he has spit in my face. He remains silent and takes another sip of brandy, rattling the single ice cube shaped with an ice pick in his crystal glass out of habit. "Santo..." I start to say, but I fall silent as soon as I meet his dark eyes. How ironic to have given him such a name. He's the worst of them all, and he's named Saint. He is dressed in the three-piece suit typical of the men of the Family. Like them,
Infernale Elio
I wake up with difficulty. I haven't slept so well for so long. I don't know how long ago it was. I feel so good that a smile immediately appears on my lips. I know he is there, next to me. I turn around to snuggle up to him and breathe in his scent. I can feel his muscles on the fingers of my skin. However, he doesn't know how to act and remains perfectly still. Elio. My Elio is here. I let my fingers slip between the curly hairs of his chest while I put a leg around his waist. I know this is wrong. My body only acts on instinct. As far as I can remember, I have always loved Elio. That's why the picture of the man putting his lips on mine is nothing but a mistake. I could never be intimate with another man. Not because the opportunities never presented themselves but because none can make my heart beat the way Elio does. I have to leave. I can't help but sig
Infernale Matteo (1)
I suddenly turn around and can't stop smiling. I leap forward and take Matteo, Elio and Santo's third brother, in my arms. The resemblance between the three brothers is undeniable. They are all tall, dark, and typically Mediterranean. The three brothers have inherited eyes of a blue so dark that they seem almost black depending on the light. In addition, they all exude natural charisma on different scales. As the eldest, Elio inspires authority. Santo, the second brother, provokes fear with his mere presence. Finally, Matteo, the last one, is a born seducer. He is ten years younger than them and still breathes the carefree joy of life. Out of habit, he puts an arm around my shoulders and guides me down the stairs. Then he dramatically shakes my cell phone in front of my eyes and gently reprimands me. "Lulu, don't walk down the stairs looking at your screen!" I give him a beaming smile and take my phone back. It was a remark I
Infernale Matteo (2)
Merda, merda, merda. The servants rush out of the room. Santo grabs his plate and leaves the table without being asked. He even starts to laugh in his throat and gives me a stern look. "Thanks for the pancakes, Lulu." Matteo gives me a sad smile and grabs his plate in turn. "Grazie, Lulu." * * * I don't have time to realize what's happening when I find myself lying down with my back on the table. I cry out of surprise when Elio pulls me abruptly towards him, holding me firmly by the hips. Elio stands over me and calmly loosens his tie before coming to rest his closed fists on either side of my face. I hate my body's reaction. My heart is pounding. I feel no fear. Just excitement. Only the satisfaction of having Elio's attention all to myself. I have to get out of here. Elio comes and caresses my cheek with the tip of his nose. Then he bites my ear and releases it as soon as he hears me mo
Infernale La trattoria Andrea (1)
It's been a week that I've been living like a voluntary prisoner within the luxurious walls of the villa. I spend my days arranging Henry's schedules, checking and processing the company's emails to keep the company running. It breaks my heart to admit it. But the outside world is still spinning without my presence. Elio is already awake. He had to get up early this morning to answer a phone call. I don't need to ask to know where he is. The answer is obvious: the office. So I take the time to get dressed. Elio left the office so quickly that he didn't have time to prepare the outfit he wanted me to wear today. I feel bold. It's as if the simple act of finally being able to choose my clothes gives me back the freedom I thought I had lost. I dare to be provocative. After putting on my makeup, I choose a "masculine" office outfit and put on a pair of black high-waisted palazzo pants. Then, I opt for a white lace blouse that I tuck into my pants. Sin
Infernale La trattoria Andrea (2)
Elio squeezes my waist a little tighter as soon as the door is closed. Then he puts his index finger against his lips to signal me to be quiet. Then he leans over to the multi-button handset, presses a button, and puts it on speaker to make sure I can hear the conversation. "What can I do for you, Don Elio?" I cringe as I recognize the man's voice on the other end of the line. Elio grabs one of my strands of hair and twirls it between his fingers. "My wife, Lucia, currently owns an apartment. Sell it to the highest bidder," he orders coldly before placing a kiss on my shoulder and closing his eyes. I am stunned. For the first time in my life, I don't know how Elio will react. At the other end of the receiver, I hear the keyboard keys of a computer being furiously tapped. "Ah. Yes, Don Elio. But... there's going to be a problem." Elio abruptly opens his eyes and looks at me with the indecipherable air of his family men. "What problem? I want this ap
Infernale La trattoria Andrea (3)
We finally arrive in front of Trattoria Andrea. I have become accustomed to having lunch there at least once a week. Dino, the owner, is a family friend and has always made us feel at home in his restaurant. Trattoria Andrea is a charming little Italian family restaurant. It's a red brick building with green and white blinds decorated with hanging flower pots and planters in the front. The interior is simple and charming. The furniture in the room is made of light wood, and the seats are dressed in red leather upholstery. The tables have a white tablecloth spread over them and a small bouquet placed in a glass yogurt pot. This place is a cocoon. The smell of coffee fills my nostrils, and I'm surprised I've never had breakfast here despite working two blocks away all these years. A young woman with light brown hair cut into a bob wipes a few coffee cups with a white towel. Her tired eyes light up when she sees me. "The Madonna! Lulu!" I sm
Infernale Henry (1)
I shove my hands deep into my coat pockets as I walk out of La Trattoria Andrea. I can't help but smile slightly. The cold morning air cools my lungs, and my skin is still warm from the cotton atmosphere of the small family restaurant. My heels hit the floor, an unheard melody of every day, reminding me that I am free to go wherever I want today. In front of the people who quickly move aside, I don't need to ask to know who is standing behind me. I can see Santo's menacing shadow looming ahead with every additional step I take. So I stop, but I don't even bother to turn around to speak to him: "You could have stayed in the Trattoria again. You could have enjoyed your time there and talked to Didi a little more." I feel Santo standing beside me. He lights one of those cigars and blows the smoke to the side. "Elio gave the order that I should not let you out of my sight for a moment. "Tell me...," I ask him as I start walking again. "What?" "How long have you liked our nationa
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