“Who the fuck is he anyway?” Darius crosses his arms, and I pull out my phone. I do a quick search of Bellino Ricci. My hands tremble as I turn the phone to Darius. Wondering why I haven’t done this sooner.
“Holy fuck, you’re married to the head of a mafia family? Leo, what the fuck?”
I don’t read anymore. I slip my phone into the holder and drive back to campus. We don’t speak the whole way back, and when Darius climbs out and closes the door. I drive away; I don’t know where I’m going. I just drive, probably faster than I should. Taking roads I barely know. Passing buildings I barely see. When it starts getting dark, I pull over. I climb out of the car. I pace. I chew at my nails, and I kick the stones that offend me by being freer than I am right now. I lean against the car and scream at the sky, the universe, the whole shitty world. I scream until my voice cracks, my chest hurts, and my throat stings.
And I do the only thing I can do. I get back in my car and drive back to the house, home, because I have nowhere else to go.
I pull onto the driveway and slowly drive to the house. I turn the car off but sit there for what feels like an eternity. I stare up at the house, it’s typically ostentatious, all grand marble pillars, oversized carved wooden doors, designed by a typical architect with a god complex. I favour more modern, clean lines, lots of exposed stone and glass. My major is architecture, but what will my life look like now, married to the mob? Will I even get to follow my career path? Will I even be allowed to finish uni?
I climb out of the car and head towards the house. When I reach the door, I freeze. I look around for a bell, or do I knock? I just stand there. Eventually, the door creeps open, and the housekeeper is standing there, grinning at me.
“Welcome home, Mr Ricci. Mr Ricci is waiting in the dining room for you.”
My eyes widen. “Waiting? For me?”
“Yes, we’re just about to serve dinner.” She smiles and steps in front of me.
I follow behind her, and when the door clicks open, Bellino stands and nods in greeting. He’s wearing a navy suit, fitted around every muscle; the fabric looks soft and expensive, even though it’s the end of the day, his white shirt looks crisp and starched. The top few buttons are open; he looks relaxed, if that’s even something he’s capable of.
The housekeeper tugs my bag from my grasp and gestures for me to sit down. I step to the seat at the very end of the table and stare at Bellino. He shakes his head and nods to the seat next to him. I sigh and walk towards him, pulling out the seat and sitting beside him before he sits back down. I stare down at my place setting, fiddling with the napkin as I spread it across my knee. I sit in silence, I try not to look at him, but I flick my gaze to him every now and then, and he’s blatantly staring at me with a smug look across his face.
“You’re a mobster?” I blurt out, unable to contain my disgust. I stare at him as the door clicks open and two servers walk in with plates piled high, placing them in front of us. Before turning back once the door closes behind them and continuing to glare at him, Bellino leans forward and starts filling his plate with meat and vegetables, potatoes, and gravy. And I just stare at him.
He shrugs. “I’m a businessman.”
“And your business is what, breaking legs?” I snark at him internally. My head is screaming,Shut the fuck up, shut the fuck up,but my mouth just keeps going.
Bellino pushes his plate back a little and rests his massive fists on the table, one cradled in the other, and I stare. I can’t take my eyes off the size of his hands.
“If I need to, yes.”
“What?” I surely didn’t hear that right. “You break people’s legs?”
He leans forward and smiles. “I’ll break whatever I need to, to get what I want, lil’ lamb.”
There he is again with that awful nickname. I feel my lip curl, and his eyes never leave my face. He even looks slightly amused at my discomfort.
I sit and stare at him, and then he moves, pulls his plate back, and starts to eat. I have no response. I can’t process what he’s telling me. I just…
“I’m not hungry,” I whisper. He looks at me but carries on eating. I stand slowly and push back my chair, but he just watches me, chewing his mouthful of food. I turn and leave the room. Clicking the door closed behind me, I stand in the corridor waiting for I don’t know what, some kind of divine intervention, someone to jump out with a video camera and laugh, jokes on you. But nothing.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, and then open them, looking around. I realise I don’t know where anything is in this house, and I set off walking. I don’t know where I’m going or what I’m doing, but I need to escape this monster that I’m married to. I can’t believe I’m stuck here with nowhere else to go.
I wander around aimlessly before I stumble upon a swimming pool. A fucking swimming pool. I push through the door and step inside. The warmth hits me, and I walk to the side of the pool, leaning down and stroking my fingers through thecool water. Fuck it. I strip down to my boxer shorts, tossing my clothes in a heaped pile at the side of one of the sun loungers, and dive straight in. The glass ceiling lets in the moonlight and the stars. I could almost feel like I’m outside.
I start to swim. I like swimming, I’ve just never really had a chance, so I bring one arm over, after the other, cupping my hands and pulling my body through the water, stroke after stroke, until my stomach rumbles and growls. I swim to the end. When I stop, I look over at my clothes, which are now neatly folded on the end of the sun lounger, and Bellino, still in his suit, is sitting beside them.
His hands held together, and his elbows resting on his knees. I pull myself out of the pool and stand dripping against the tile. He rises from the lounger and picks up a towel he has next to my clothes and walks towards me. I want to step back as he advances, but I lift my chin defiantly. He smirks and hands me the towel. He stands close enough to touch, but he doesn’t.
“We should talk.”
I nod, but what the fuck do we actually say? He walks away, and I grab my clothes and scurry after him. He leads me back to our room and stands back for me to walk inside.
“Shower first.” I nod and head into the shower, my clothes still scrunched up in my arms. I toss them in the hamper and climb into the shower. When I finally step out, there’s a pile of clothing on the sink. When I pick through it, it’s pyjamas—well, I suppose loungewear, and I sigh. I don’t know if I could bear being naked again in bed, next to him. It just feels off.
When I step back into the room, he’s dressed the same. Tight t-shirt and baggy bottoms. He looks strange. I realise it’s the first time I’ve seen him in anything other than a suit, well, and his naked body yesterday. I shake my head, not wanting to think about his naked body. I take a step further into the room, then stop. He nods to the side of him on the bed, and I walkover. I take a seat and mirror him, bringing my legs up onto the bed. I sit almost at the end, though, giving me as much space as possible with my back to the headboard.
After a few minutes of silence, he clears his throat. “Have you had a good day?”
