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. Since I can comfortably be dressed today, I put on simple midnight blue ballerinas whose color reminds me of Elio's eyes.

Merda.

I fall back into the trap of my addiction to him.

I kick in the air to get rid of these shoes and stop my choice for a pair of red pumps.

Farewell the comfort until the end of the nails of the feet.

I freeze on the spot and discover a box on my dressing table. A note written in a hurry lets me discover these two simple words that still break my heart "Ti amo" (I love you*).

Strange.

Why does Elio still give me a jewel so soon?

When I was still living with him, he used to give me one once a month.

I open the box and discover a complete set of diamonds: simple earrings, a thin bracelet, and a delicate white gold chain with a sun-shaped medallion. However, each ray of the sun is encrusted with several small diamonds this time.

I want to scream.

But, I choose to sit at my dressing table and pass the jewelry he gave me.

I will not let my miserable, fleeting sense of freedom be stifled any further.

I'm letting my hair go free. It will make Elio mad, but I don't care.

I slowly make my way down the stairs and towards the office.

I knock three times on the door and open it before I am invited in. I am home and don't have to wait for permission to enter a room, but I still take the trouble to announce my presence.

Elio and Santo are in the office, and both are smoking a cigar.

Strange.

It's not like Elio or Santo to smoke so early in the morning, and something good must have happened. And it must have been great news for them to celebrate so early.

Elio sat comfortably in the leather chair and watched Santo with unmasked arrogance. He has rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to below his elbows and seems to revel in his little brother's expression.

I can only see Santo from behind, but I notice his fingers nervously tapping the arm of his chair. He doesn't say a word and starts to make the gesture to get up when his brother stops him. Santo resumes his seat and waits without glancing at me.

Elio extends a hand in my direction to invite me to approach them.

I advance towards him and let him guide me on his knees. I ignore Santo and simply raise my head toward Elio to kiss his lips chaste.

However, Elio stops me by holding my chin between his fingers. He squints his eyes, and I see the silent rage coming from there.

Perfect.

My simple gesture of revolt has the effect I was expecting. I continue my defiance and speak before he questions me first. "I have to go out today."

Elio reaches to his side and crushes the cigar in the crystal ashtray set between him and his brother.

Good.

He doesn't have anything to celebrate anymore, and I know perfectly well that it drives him crazy that anyone but him sees me with my hair down.

Like all the men in the Family, Elio believes that a woman should not leave her hair loose outside the marital bedroom.

With calculated slowness, he runs his fingers through the length of my hair to free it from my shoulders. His eyes scan the outfit I am wearing. Veins bulge on his forearms and at his temple. He is furious. And I feel like the most powerful woman in the world right now.

"Dove Devi andare?" (where do you have to go?), he asks me, trying to keep his cool.

"To the office to sign some papers. Then to my house," I answer. But I have to make a monstrous effort not to move. Elio gripped my hair tighter when he heard my answer.

He must have noticed and gently release it, then starts massaging my scalp in small circles. "At home, Amore mio?" he repeats coldly.

I remain entirely impassive and pretend to play the innocent. "Yes, at my place. The apartment where I have lived for the last three years. Will you come with me?"

I want to slap myself in the face at this moment.

It's not worth playing the strong woman if I feel obliged every time to calm down Elio, to please him all the time when I want to run away from here.

However, I see the doubt in his eyes. Something is wrong, but I can't figure out what.

Strange.

Elio clears his throat and looks at his brother, who has been silent as a grave since I arrived. "Go with her. Don't leave her for a moment. Come back at four o'clock. Not before."

It's my turn to frown. I openly provoked him, and Elio let me out. Elio doesn't come with me? We don't have to go home until four?

I hear Santo sigh and crush his cigar in the crystal ashtray. He gets up and heads for the office door. "We leave in 15 minutes, Lulu", he is satisfied to declare without a glance for us.