“A gift from don Massimo,” he explained, giving me a big smile and heading toward the staircase. “I’ll be waiting in the garden.”
I opened the box, revealing two smaller packages with the Givenchy logo on them. I took them out and opened them, too. Both held the beautiful boots that Carlo’s wife had had on when we met in the restaurant in Warsaw. I was in love with those shoes, but nobody in their right mind would have paid what they cost. I jumped up and down, squealing with joy. Both pairs were the same, only differing in color. I grabbed the boots, hugged them to my chest, and went to the closet, scanning all the gorgeous things on the hangers. I wouldn’t be able to fit into any of those things in a few months. I’d miss the New Year’s Eve binge and all the parties with Olga… How the hell would I explain all that to my parents? Resigned, I plopped down in an armchair, still clutching the boots, thinking about all that frantically.
Then it dawned on me: I needed to go see my mom before my pregnancy showed. Then I’d be able to get away with not visiting if I sold her some story about work taking up too much of my time. My master plan had only one fault—the child would be born sooner or later, and that wouldn’t be so easy to explain to my parents.
“Goddamn it, what a shitshow,” I groaned, getting up. As long as my figure was still perfect, I decided to take as much advantage as possible of the contents of my closet. For my first day with Olga, I picked the boots I had gotten from Massimo. They’d go great with white shorts and a flowy gray shirt with long, rolled-up sleeves. I applied some delicate makeup and brushed my hair, putting my perfect bob in order. It was past ten when I was finished. I moved my things to an off-white Prada handbag and put on gold aviators. Before leaving the apartment, I stopped to look at myself in the mirror, unable to keep myself from letting out a gasp. My outfit had cost as much as my first car! Not counting the ridiculously expensive watch. Including that, the total price would probably reach that of a whole apartment. I felt attractive and very, very chic. But was this still me?
I hadn’t thought Domenico would be so concerned with my condition. When I joined him for breakfast, he fed me, practically against my will, just like my mom used to do.
“Domenico, for fuck’s sake, I’m not starving, you know,” I groaned, irritated when he put another portion of eggs on my plate. “I don’t want to eat any more. I’ll only get nauseous again. Let’s go already. I don’t want to be late.”
The young Italian gave me a disappointed look. “Maybe at least take an apple for the road?”
“Jesus! Take it yourself! And quit overfeeding me, you psycho!”
The road to Catania passed weirdly quickly. Or maybe it just felt like it. I had a lot to think about. I picked a car with a driver this time so Massimo wouldn’t have to worry.
We parked by the airport terminal. I was glad I could spend some time with Olga alone—Domenico had sensed I needed it and stayed at the mansion. When I saw my friend emerge from the building, I didn’t wait for the driver to open the door for me, instead running straight at her.
“Are those the Givenchy boots I can’t afford?” Olga asked as soon as I fell into her arms, hugging her tightly. “Holding me like that won’t get you anywhere. I’ll still steal them!”
“Hi! It’s so good to see you,” I said.
“Well, your voice when you called me was so terrible, I knew I had no other option.”
The driver took her bags and opened the door for us.
“Oooh, this is serious,” Olga said, getting inside. “We get a private driver? I’m curious about the rest.”
“Bodyguards, servants, and constant surveillance,” I replied, shrugging. “Transmitters, wiretaps, and gangsters wherever you look. Welcome to Sicily.” I spread my arms wide, smiling sardonically.
Olga frowned, giving me a quizzical look. “What’s happening? I haven’t heard you like that in a while.”
“I wanted to sell you some lie, but that wouldn’t work. Not with you. I’m getting married on Saturday and I want you to be my maid of honor.”
Olga froze, staring at me in shock, her mouth agape.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” she screamed. “I can understand falling for that gangster guy and wanting to take a shot at being with him, especially since he’s offering you a life straight out of a fairy tale, has a knee-length dick, and looks like a god… But marrying him? After, like, two months? I am supposed to be the one who believes in divorce, not you! You always wanted it to be romantic, till death do us part, house, kids, and all that stuff. What’s happening to you? He made you do it, right? I’ll fucking rip him apart! He can’t keep making you do things. You left the country, he turned you into some kind of doll straight out of Vogue, and now this!” she yelled, barely breathing at all.
I turned my head away from her, unable to listen to her anymore.
“I’m pregnant,” I said.
Olga fell silent. Her eyes bulged, and I was sure they’d pop out and roll down to the floor.
“You’re what?”
“I learned yesterday. That’s why I wanted you to come here. Massimo doesn’t know about it yet.”
“Can we stop? I need to have a smoke.”
I asked the driver to stop at the first place he deemed suitable. Olga jumped out of the car and lit a cigarette with shaking hands. After having one, she immediately lit another. She took a drag and said, “You’re living in a gilded cage, but it’s still a cage. And now this. Are you aware of what you’re getting yourself into?”
“What am I to do, huh? Tell me. It’s already happened. I can’t get rid of the baby.” I remained in my seat, glaring at her, raising my voice as I continued. “You yell at me as if I’m some kind of idiot, clueless as to what I have done. Yeah, I was stupid. Yeah, I wasn’t careful, and I fucked up, but I don’t exactly have a fucking time machine. So unless you have one, shut the fuck up and start being supportive! Fuck!”
Olga stood there, perfectly still, watching me as tears streaked down my face. “Come here,” she said, flicking the cigarette away and getting back into the car to hug me. “I love you. And the kid…” She hesitated for a moment. “At least it’s going to be good-looking. With parents like you, it has no other option.”
We spent the rest of the way in silence, each one of us trying to get their thoughts into some semblance of order. I knew she was right. Her words were what I had thought, only feared to say aloud. That didn’t change the fact that my life had really slipped out of my hands. I had no control.
When we were nearing the mansion, I turned to look at Olga. “Let’s try and have some fun at least. I don’t want to think about all that.”
“I’m sorry,” she replied, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses. “But you didn’t exactly prepare me for the news.” The car pulled up to the house, and Domenico was already waiting for us. Olga scanned her surroundings, shocked at what she was seeing.
“Holy mother of fuck! This is like Dynasty! You live here on your own or do you run a hotel?”
That made me laugh. I was glad Olga’s good humor was back.
“Yeah, I know, it’s a bit too much, but you’ll like it. Come with me,” I said as the young Italian opened the door on my side of the car.