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 made to him daily when I still lived among them.

          

          Matteo accompanies me to the kitchen. With one hand, he opens the door and looks around.

          

          There is only us.

          The employees all know I don't want anyone in my kitchen when I am at home. Not because they bother me, but because it's my space.

          

          "Why did you come back, Lulu?", Matteo asks me, looking grim.

          

          I open a drawer and take out my apron. It's a simple apron that ties around the back of my neck and waist. It is simply white with two pockets on the sides.

          

          I understand his concern. He was here three years ago. He saw the state I was in and helped me escape from there. He also knows the content of my unhealthy fascination with Elio.

          

          "You know why, Matteo," I answer him without emotion, opening the fridge.

          

          He utters an insult and pulls one of the high stools from the kitchen to come and sit at one of the worktops.

          "I saw the picture, Lulu."

          

          I pause for a moment, then pull out the pans to set them on the stovetops. "I think it's only Elio who hasn't seen it in this house."

          

          Matteo plates his palms against his eyes and shakes his head.

          "Santo is not stupid. He would never have risked showing Elio. I... I was the one who insisted Santo come and get you."

 

I grab some eggs, then milk and flour, and quickly start making a thick batter.

          "I figured it out, Matteo. It's okay. It was better that Santo came, and let's just say it made my return to this house less complicated."

          

          He raises his head, looking at me with that indecipherable air characteristic of his Family's men. "You're not answering my question. Why did you agree to follow him?"

          

          Because I wanted to see Elio again! Because I feel like I'm dying a little more every day I spend without him! Because despite everything, he is the person who gives me a reason to stay alive on this earth! I can't help but scream in my mind.

          

          I hold my spatula out in front of his eyes, falsely threateningly. "This is none of the kids' business. Get out of my kitchen."

          

          Matteo dramatically plates a hand against his heart. "Lulu, you and I are the same age!"

          

          I start to laugh and stick my tongue out at him. "Esci dalla mia cucina, ragazzo." (Get out of my kitchen, kid*)

          

          *

          *

          *

          

          I enter the dining room and automatically head to my seat. I'm cooking for the sheer pleasure of it, but Elio adamantly refuses to let me bring the dishes. The Family has enough servants for that.

          

          Elio and his brothers are already seated. They are all wearing their expensive three-piece suits.

          

          As soon as Elio sees me, he rushes over and extends his hand to me. To his right stands Santo, tapping his fingertips nervously on the table. Matteo, on the other hand, is focused on his cell phone and straightens up as soon as he hears the sound of my stilettos on the floor.

          

          When I go behind him to take my place, Elio grabs my hand and puts a kiss on it. He holds me until I take my place on his left. "Luce dai miei occhi... (Light from my eyes*), he declares loud enough for everyone to hear. He intertwines our fingers, and I swear I can feel my neck freezing the way his eyes rest on me in the daylight.

          

          Elio is angry, but I don't know why.

          

          I glance at Santo, but he avoids my gaze and fixes his attention on his fingers, which he continues to tap nervously on the end of the table.

          

          My eyes automatically fall on the heavy signet ring with the Family insignia on Santo's hand.

          

          I don't know what happened between them before I arrived, but something tells me that Santo almost feels remorse.

          

          The kitchen doors open as the servants hurry to place the plates in front of each person. This is the only time Santo has a relatively human expression.

          

          Elio and Matteo are the easiest to feed in this Family. They are content with what they are served and never complain. This morning I just made them eggs and bacon. I know that Matteo likes his eggs sloppy and his bacon still pink. Elio, on the other hand, enjoys his food cooked and his bacon charred.

 

Santo seems to be stomping around, and I suspect that one of the reasons he came to get me in person has something to do with food. However, his eyes harden at the plate, and he glares at me.

          "What's this, Lulu?" he asks me with disgust.

          

          "Pancakes, Santo," I replied without emotion.

          

          He lifts one of the pancakes with the tip of his fork and pushes the plate in front of him.

          

          I shake my head and get up to grab the various condiments one of the maids brings: jam, homemade whipped cream, liquid chocolate, caramel, confectioners' sugar, and toasted pistachios.

          

          I swear to God that if I can get him to die of diabetes from my food, I'll give away whole boxes of candles to all the churches.

          

          Santo lets out a disappointed sigh but immediately pulls himself together when he sees Elio leaning toward him.

          "Mangiare" (Eat*), Elio articulates while pushing his index finger into the wood.

          Santo may be wearing Don's ring, but no one is fooled about who has the authority in this house.

          

          Santo clears his throat and explains himself as he adds a hellish mountain of cream to his pancakes. "I was expecting cornetti... You always make me cornetti in the morning," he grumbles. He holds the liquid chocolate in one hand, and the caramel in the other. He hesitates between the two and ends up pouring it all over his cream.

          

          I return to my seat, but I still have to stand for a few moments.

          

          Elio puts an arm behind me. He places a hand on my hip as I grab the tray with everyone's cappuccinos and place them in front of them. Breakfast is the only time we drink anything other than espressos. "I haven't had time. I have to let the dough rest overnight, Santo," I explain to him, pretending to be sorry.

          

          Santo grabs the jar of strawberry jam and pours a third of the pot over the side. "Go ahead, Lulu. You can make me some tomorrow."

          

          I tense for a split second.

          

          I can feel Elio's fingers digging into my hip.

          

          Merda.

          

          My gesture has not gone unnoticed. The three brothers are now watching me. I can feel Elio's eyes on me as I sit back in my chair.

          

          Santo noisily puts the jam jar aside and grabs the powdered sugar. The bastard gives me a sarcastic smile as he sprinkles an endless amount of white powder on his concoction. "You'll make me chocolate, cream, and jam. Right Lulu?"

          

          Those were not our terms.

      

      I was to spend one night here and ensure Elio was in a good mood for breakfast. I have no desire or reason to stay here anymore. Something must have happened in the meantime, and I suspect it had something to do with the tense atmosphere between the two brothers when I entered the dining room.

          

          I hold my cup with my fingertips and give him a mirthless smile. "Of course, I do, Santo."

          

          The hand Elio had placed on my hip finally relaxes.

      

      Yet, I have to quickly put the steaming cup down on the table as I feel my chair being pulled towards him.

          

          Merda.

          

          "Get out of here," Elio orders coldly.