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Henry (1)
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Infernale Henry (2)
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
Infernale Henry (3)
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
Infernale Cold shower (1)
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
Infernale Cold shower (2)
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
Infernale Cold shower (3)
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
Infernale Cold shower (4)
"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
Infernale Rage-1
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
Infernale Rage-2
(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
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