“Fuck, shit, fuck!” I swore helplessly. That’s when I heard a quiet knock on the door.
“Come in,” I said haltingly, fearing who I would see at the door.
It was Domenico. I can’t remember being this happy in my life. The young man froze and watched me for a while, clearly amused. I dropped my eyes to see if my breasts were visible, but I had been covered with the sheets very meticulously.
“Don’t just stand there! Help me out!” I growled, irritated.
The young Italian walked over and freed my hands.
“The evening was a success, I gather?” he said, lifting his eyebrows.
“Give me a break.” I covered my head with the duvet. I wanted to die.
When I took a peek under the sheets, I realized I was naked.
“Oh no,” I yelped.
“Massimo left. He has a lot of work, so you’ll have to bear with me. I’ll be waiting in the living room with breakfast.”
After thirty minutes, a shower, and a bunch of Tylenol, I sat at the table, sipping tea with milk.
“Have fun yesterday?” Domenico asked, putting his newspaper down.
“As far as I know, not really. But judging by the state you found me in, I did have some fun after we returned. Thank God I don’t remember any of it.”
Domenico burst out in booming laughter, nearly choking on his croissant. “How much do you remember?”
“My pole dance. Nothing more.”
He nodded understandingly. “I have to say, that dance of yours is hard to forget. You’re very flexible.” He grinned.
“Ugh… kill me,” I groaned, my head hitting the table with an audible thump. “But first tell me what happened next.”
Domenico raised his eyebrows and took a sip of espresso. “Don Massimo took you to your room and—”
“Fucked me.”
“I doubt that, though I wasn’t there. I met him a minute after we returned and then saw him leaving the room and going to sleep in the second bedroom. You know, we’re family, me and Massimo, and he didn’t look”—Domenico searched for the right word—“satisfied. And after a night spent with you, I believe that is how he would have looked.”
“Oh my God, Domenico! Why do you torment me so? You know what happened. You can just tell me.”
“I can, but it won’t be as fun.” The expression on my face must have told him I was in no mood for jokes right now. “All right. You got drunk and got naughty, so he tied you to the bed and went to sleep.”
I sighed with relief. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had really happened, though.
“Oh stop it, you. Eat something. We have a lot to do today.”
We only spent three days in Rome, but I didn’t see Massimo even once the whole time. After our night at the club, he had disappeared without a trace, and Domenico wouldn’t talk about it.
So we spent the whole time together, with Domenico showing me the Eternal City. We ate together, shopped together, and went to the spa together. Was this how all our trips would be?
When on the second day we were having lunch in a breathtaking restaurant with a view of the Spanish Steps, I asked him, “Will he let me work at all? I can’t just sit around, waiting for him all the time.”
Domenico kept quiet for a long while, before replying. “I can’t speak for Massimo. I don’t know what’s in his head. So please, Laura, don’t ask me about these things. You have to remember who he is. The less questions, the better.”
“Goddamn it, I have a right to know what he’s doing! Why he isn’t calling and if he’s even alive,” I growled, dropping my fork with a loud clink.
“He’s alive,” Domenico retorted gruffly, avoiding my eyes.
I grimaced and returned to my meal. On the one hand, this life was as comfortable as it got, but on the other, I wasn’t the kind of person who just wanted to sit around doing nothing. I wasn’t a trophy wife. Especially since Massimo wasn’t even my man.
On the morning of the third day, Domenico and I had breakfast as normal. His cell phone rang, and the man excused himself and left the table. He talked for a couple minutes before returning to me.
“You will leave Rome today, Laura.”
I sent him a surprised look. “We’ve only just arrived.”
The young Italian smiled at me apologetically and headed toward my closet. I downed my tea and followed him.
A few minutes later, I tied my hair in a high ponytail and put some mascara on—I was getting more tanned by the day, which meant I needed less makeup. Each day, the temperature outside reached eighty-five degrees. Without knowing where we were going, I put on dark blue denim shorts and a scanty white top that barely covered my small breasts. Today’s outfit was a bit of a declaration—I refused to be elegant. Besides, I dropped the underwear. As for shoes, I picked my beloved Isabel Marant wedge sneakers. I put on sunglasses and grabbed a bag when Domenico walked into the room. He stopped, rooted to the spot, and gazed at me for a while.
“Are you sure you want to go out like this?” he asked awkwardly. “Don Massimo won’t be happy.”
I spun on my heel nonchalantly, slid my glasses halfway down my nose, and shot him a disdainful look.
“What makes you think I care? After he left me for three days?”
I turned my back on him and went to the elevator.
My absurdly expensive watch told me it was 11 a.m. when Domenico showed me the car I would be driven in.
“Aren’t you going with me?” I asked, pouting like a little girl.
“I can’t, but Claudio will tend to you during your trip.” He shut the door and the car drove off. I felt alone and sad all of a sudden. Was it possible I was missing Massimo?
My driver, Claudio, who doubled as my bodyguard, was not too talkative.
I grabbed my phone and dialed Mom. She seemed calmer now but wasn’t too happy when I told her I wouldn’t be joining them this week.
When we finished talking, the car took a turn off the highway, and a few minutes later entered a town called Fiumicino. Claudio drove steadily, expertly navigating the narrow, picturesque streets in the enormous SUV. At one point, he hit the brakes, and I saw we were in a large port filled to the brim with luxury yachts.
An elderly man dressed all in white opened the door for me. I sent the driver a questioning look, and in response, he nodded to me, allowing me to step out.
“Welcome to Porto di Fiumicino, Laura. I am Fabio and I will take you to your boat. Follow me.” The man gestured at me.
When, after a short while, we stopped to board the yacht, I raised my head and gaped. Before me was the Titan.
Most boats in the port were white, but this one was a cold steel gray, with tinted windows.
“The yacht is nearly three hundred feet long. It has twelve guest cabins, a Jacuzzi, a cinema, spa, gym, as well as a large pool and a helicopter pad.”
“Not too shabby,” I mumbled, picking my jaw up from the floor.
When I entered the first of six decks, I found myself in a grand living room, only partially roofed. It was elegant, but very minimalistic. Most of the furniture was white with steel-gray details. The floor was made of glass. Then there was the dining room and the stairs to the bow and the Jacuzzi. Most tables were laden with vases filled with white roses. I focused on the one without any flowers. Instead, there was a gigantic ice bucket filled with bottles of Moët Rosé.