I knew that what I said wasn’t the whole truth, but I was in no mood to talk about it. The Man in Black kept his eyes on me for a long while, his jaw working rhythmically. I knew that my words had hurt and angered him. I just didn’t care.
He got up and headed to the door, grabbing the handle. He turned his head, sent me a cold look, and said impassively, “She told me she’ll kill you, to take away the thing that I cherish the most. Just as I have taken it away from her.”
“Excuse me!?” I called out, shocked. “And you’re just going to leave after telling me that?” I stormed in his direction. “You damned egomaniac…” I trailed off when I saw he was actually hanging the Do Not Disturb sign on the door. I stopped, my hands hanging limply at my sides, staring at him.
“That dance today,” he said, approaching, “was the most electrifying foreplay I have ever experienced. That does not change the fact that I really wanted to kill that annoying little Polack when I saw him touching you. He knows who I am.”
“I heard you can’t actually kill him,” I said, raising an eyebrow.
“Unfortunately, you’re right. A pity,” he replied, taking the last step toward me.
He wrapped his muscular arms around me and hugged me. He had never done that before. Dumbfounded, I didn’t know what to do with my hands. I put my face on his chest, feeling the thumping of his heart. He sighed, sliding down to his knees.
In that position, with his forehead nestled between my breasts, he grew immobile. I ran a hand through his hair, stroking his head. He was defenseless, exhausted, and totally reliant on me.
“I love you,” he breathed. “I can’t fight it. I’ve loved you long before you showed up here. I’ve dreamed about you. I knew what kind of person you were. I felt it. And it all turned out to be true,” he said, his hands wrapped around my hips.
Alcohol buzzed in my head, where fear was warring with a strange calmness.
I took Massimo’s head in my hands and lifted his chin to look him in the eyes. He raised them, sending me a look completely filled with love, trust, and humbleness.
“Massimo, honey,” I whispered, caressing his cheek. “Why did you have to fuck it all up so badly?”
I sighed and collapsed to the rug next to him, feeling my eyes watering. I thought about how wonderful it would be to meet him in different circumstances, where I wouldn’t be his prisoner, where all those threats and blackmail wouldn’t have happened, and—most important—where he wouldn’t be who he was.
“Make love to me,” he said gently, laying me down on the soft carpet.
My heart skipped a beat. I didn’t expect this and froze, watching him through half-closed eyelids.
“This might be a problem,” I said, making myself comfortable in his arms.
He hung above me, propped on his elbows, with his body pressing against mine, covering it all, and his eyes searching for answers in mine.
“You see,” I continued, ashamed. “I’ve never made love to anyone. I only fucked. And I liked it. No man has ever taught me how to make love. So… there you are. You might be disappointed,” I finished and turned my head away, embarrassed.
“Hey, baby girl,” he said gently, turning my face back toward himself. “You’re so vulnerable. I haven’t seen you like this before. Don’t be afraid. This will be your first time, but it will be a first one for me too. Don’t go. I’m being serious.”
“Ask me. Say please,” I suggested, turning onto my belly. “You only need to ask. You don’t have to command.”
Massimo hesitated for a moment, watching me. His stare wasn’t cold this time. It gave way to desire and passion.
“Please, stay with me,” he burst out, and laughed.
“Not a problem,” I replied, rolling over on the carpet.
Curious, I watched, waiting for his next move. He took off his jacket and hung it over the backrest of the armchair, unclasped his cuff links, and rolled up his sleeves. He was getting ready for something big. I giggled quietly. When Massimo disappeared behind the door, the only thing left for me was to scan my surroundings. The thick bright rug on which I was lying neatly harmonized with the rest of the huge room. The only other furniture were the two soft armchairs and a small black coffee table. The door led to other rooms—probably the living room first—but down on the floor I could only see the tall windows obscured with heavy drapes, and a wide terrace behind them, followed by the sea in the distance.
Waiting expectantly for my lover, I was suddenly struck by a worrying thought.
I had a couple of pounds of fake hair on my head! I started to pluck out the hundreds of pins holding my hair in position. For a long while I kept tugging at the elaborate chignon, praying that Massimo didn’t catch me like that. When I was finally free, my eyes started darting around, looking for a place to stow the bundle of hair. The rug! I sat up and stuffed it all under the heavy thing, and brushed my fingers through my hair, letting the wavy strands fall over my face. I pushed myself up, looking in the mirror, which took up most of the wall behind the armchairs. Surprised, but also quite satisfied, I realized I still looked attractive. I let myself drop back to the rug.
“Close your eyes,” I heard from the next room. “Please.”
I rolled over to my back and did as I was asked. With no idea what position to take, I felt Massimo standing above me.
“You look like a body in a coffin that way, Laura,” he said, laughing.
Right, those hands lying on my chest with fingers knitted might have looked a bit like that.
“I’m not here to talk about death,” I retorted, opening one eye and smirking.
The Man in Black bent over and took me in his arms. As always, he did it so easily it seemed that I weighed next to nothing. Massimo carried me down a short corridor and soon I felt a blow of warm air carrying the smell of the sea.
He put me down and gently took my face in his hands, kissing me softly.
I reached out with my arms to touch him. He didn’t resist. I started unbuttoning his shirt while his lips wandered up and down my neck.
“I love the smell of you,” he whispered, pinching my chin between his teeth.
“Can I open my eyes now?” I asked. “I want to see you.”
“Yes, you can,” he replied, and his hand hovered toward the zipper holding my dress in place.
I raised my eyelids, revealing a stunning vista. We were on the terrace of the top floor of the hotel and could see most of the island of Lido. Flickering lights illuminated the night, shining over the waves breaking on the beach. The terrace was enormous—it had a private bar, a Jacuzzi, a few chaise longues, and a canopied gazebo with a bed inside, which made me think of the one in Massimo’s garden. The difference was that the interior of this one was completely covered by canvas walls, and the mattress itself had a full set of sheets and a couple of pillows on it. I was pretty sure we’d be spending the night right here.
My dress slipped off and slid silently to the floor. Massimo’s hands slowly traced a path along my naked skin, and his tongue lazily slid between my lips.
“You’re not wearing underwear again, Laura,” he breathed, his lips still close to mine. “And you haven’t done that for me this time, either. You couldn’t know I’d be here.”