“It is getting kind of late,” Dad agreed, pushing himself to his feet.
Massimo and I went upstairs and halted at my brother’s old room.
“This is where you’ll sleep, but it’s not what I wanted to talk about,” I said in a conspiratorial whisper before bringing him up to date on our lies.
When I finished, Massimo grinned, sticking his hands into his pockets, looking around the room.
“I feel like a teenager again,” he said with a laugh.
“Where’s your room, baby girl? You don’t expect me to really sleep here, do you?”
“I do, and you will. My room is on the other end of the hallway. My parents still think our relationship is strictly platonic, so let’s keep them in the dark for a while yet.”
“Yeah, just show me your room, Laura,” he said, trying to remain serious.
I took his hand and led him down the corridor to my old room. It was smaller than what I had in Sicily, but I had lots of good memories here and didn’t need much to keep me happy. A bed, a TV, a little dressing table, and hundreds of photos hanging on the walls reminded me of my school years.
“Did you have a boyfriend when you used to live here?” Massimo asked, studying the photos with a smile.
“Sure. Why do you ask?”
“Did you give him blow jobs in this room?”
Unsure of what to say, I widened my eyes and frowned at the same time.
“Excuse me?”
“There’s no lock on the door, so I’m wondering where you did it. And how. Knowing that your parents could come in at any time, I mean.”
“I leaned him against the door and knelt in front of him,” I said, placing a hand on Massimo’s torso and pushing him toward the door.
He now stood exactly where my erstwhile boyfriend had stood, slowly unzipping his pants. I dropped to my knees and pressed his butt to the door.
“Don’t move, Massimo, and stay quiet. This house has thin walls,” I ordered, putting his penis in my mouth.
I blew him quickly and violently, wanting him to come fast. After a few minutes I felt his seed spilling into my throat. I swallowed it all like a good girl and got up, wiping my mouth with a hand. Massimo could barely stand. He screwed his eyes shut and leaned limply against the door.
“I like it when you act like a whore,” he breathed, zipping his pants up.
“Oh really?” I asked with an ironic smile.
We got ourselves in order and returned downstairs, heading out to church for the ceremony. Lublin was a lot smaller than Warsaw. There weren’t a lot of cars as expensive as ours. As we drove by the church, all eyes drifted our way, taking in the sight of the black Ferrari.
“Cool,” I muttered, happy with the reaction we got.
Massimo gracefully stepped out of the car, smoothed down his jacket, and went to my door, opening it for me. Leaning on his arm, I got out of the car and put on my sunglasses. The crowd grew quiet as Massimo and I walked hand in hand toward the church. It’s only your family, I told myself repeatedly, like a mantra, grinning at everyone we passed.
My brother’s voice got me out of that daze.
“Hey, sis, I see your fancy stories had something to do with the truth after all,” he said, walking over to me and giving me a quick hug. “You look awesome. I like your style.”
I embraced him tightly. We only saw each other rarely, living so far away from one another. He was my friend, my beloved brother, and an unparalleled ideal. He was also the smartest guy I knew—a true mathematical prodigy—and a real stud. When we still used to live at our parents’ house, he scored with all my friends. He was the complete man—smart, handsome, stylish, and ruthless. We were polar opposites when it came to character and appearance. I was a petite brunette with nearly black eyes, and he was a tall blond guy with emerald eyes. When he was little, he had looked like a little angel, with those platinum blond curls.
“Kuba, my beautiful brother, how good to see you. I completely forgot you’d be here. Let me introduce you to”—I switched to English—“my… Massimo Torricelli. We work together.”
The men exchanged looks, shaking hands, but it looked more like sizing each other up before a fight than an ordinary greeting.
“Ferrari Italia, four point five liter engine, five hundred seventy-eight horsepower. A true beast,” Kuba said, nodding his head in approval.
“Oh, you know, the keys were on top of the pile,” Massimo said nonchalantly, putting on his sunglasses.
He was disarming, but my brother didn’t seem to think so. He watched the Italian carefully, trying to look right through him, it seemed.
The service was boring as hell and too long. The whole time my entire family was focused on the handsome Italian at my side. The only thing I prayed for during the ceremony was for it to end. When the party started, the guests would stop ogling my man.
As the couple recited their vows, I recalled what Massimo had told me during our trip here: we were going to be in the same situation as the young couple in another week. It’s just… was I really ready for this? Would I want to marry a man I barely knew? Who terrified me and made me angry on a daily basis? And besides, would I want to be with someone who wouldn’t let me have my own opinions? Someone so controlling? Someone who always had to be right, who always had to have his way, and who didn’t allow me to do most of the things I loved, thinking that he was protecting me? The sad truth was that I was so in love with him that rational thinking stopped being something I was capable of. I couldn’t imagine losing Massimo again. I would not leave him.
“Are you feeling well?” he asked in a whisper as the ceremony finally ended. “You’re very pale.”
That was true. I hadn’t felt too well for the last couple of days. I was tired and had no appetite, but that was to be expected—with all that stress, I should be thanking God I was still alive.
“I’m a bit faint, but it has to be the nerves. It’ll be over soon.”
We left the church, and it was supposed to be downhill from there. Everyone went to congratulate the young couple and celebrate my cousin Maria’s big day.
The party was to be held in a picturesque rustic manor about fifteen miles outside the city. It consisted of several buildings, a hotel, stables, and a great hall where the party proper would take place. We were the last to arrive, as I had asked Massimo not to draw too much attention. Surprisingly, he listened. Practically unseen, we flitted through the huge room and reached our table. I sighed with relief, seeing Kuba was to sit with us. My brother would usually come to parties alone, trying to pick someone up. He loved it when women gave him their undivided attention, allowed him to woo them, and finally landed in his bed. He was a collector. In my case, the subject of sex had always been a bit more complicated, and sometimes men hurt me. My brother didn’t have that problem—the only way women hurt him was when one in a hundred rejected him, ruining his score.
When we sat at the table, it turned out one place was free. I scanned the familiar faces of people around us, trying to guess who was missing. I couldn’t. The appetizers arrived a moment later, and I devoured mine—I hadn’t been able to eat since yesterday, so when I finally felt the hunger, my appetite swiftly overpowered any good sense I might have had.