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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 apRelated chapters
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
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
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