He’s intimidating with his six-foot frame and bulging muscles that strain against his ill-fitting blazer. He wears a wedding ring, but I have no idea if he has a family. The man has never shared one detail of his personal life.
“Just forty more minutes, please,” I beg.
“You’re pushing it, but considering we’re close to home, I will allow it.”
“Thank you,” I chirp as we dip into the next café before he has time to change his mind.
This area of Sicily is home to vineyards that cover most of the landscape that isn’t built, and the crops are coming in this time of year. Marsala wine is one of our more successful exports, olive oil another. Like most Italians who can still afford it, my family keeps a barrel of olive oil in the cellar.
In the same cellar he has an extensive wine collection. When we have a party, he serves the most expensive wine to the guests he wants to impress, like local judges or councilmen. Giovi told me the entire collection is worth over a million-euro, minimum.
Without bothering to look at the menu, I ask the server to bring the chef’s freshest seafood dish. I don’t care what it costs. I want the best. He returns with fresh clams and grilled calamari with an antipasto. Laura and I share so we can taste everything while Ridolfo sits at the next table and drinks an espresso to blend in.
The locals are well aware of Mafiosos. When Francis Ford Coppola was filmingThe Godfatherin Sicily, he was adamant about finding the perfect spot for each scene. Even though the story was based on a family in Palermo, the scenes were shot on the other side of the island.
After lunch, Ridolfo checks the street and rooftops for anything suspicious as he holds the door open for us. I almost wish something dangerous and exciting would happen to break up the monotony. The only time my panties get wet is when I’m laughing too hard at Laura’s funny one-liners.
She’s always had a great sense of humor and she totally gets me. The best is when we make fun of my bodyguards and exaggerate the way they walk and talk. When we were teenagers, we’d stay up late eating tiramisu out of glass cups and watching American TV shows dubbed in Italian.
We eventually graduated to theNinjaobstacle course competition and the dating show with a rose. Laura is more vested in these dating shows than I am. All that love at first sight nonsense is hardly believable. Plus, my brain gets tired from listening to English and my eyes get tired from reading subtitles in Italian. Italy is on a big push to make everyone learn English. Even the busses and trains announce the stops and safety information in both languages.
The last time I checked, I live in Italy. I-T-A-L-Y. I love the Italian language, it’s spoken much faster, and makes more sense. Ironically, it’s a romance language, but I can live with that. Maybe one day God will surprise me. Mama tells me to pray and still drags me to church. Early on, Giovi and I saw the hypocrisy of all that church stuff, and still do, however we go to church every Sunday as all good Catholics do.
The next twoweeks pass quickly. Then the big day is here, and Mama takes me and Laura to an exclusive day spa. With all the commotion you would think we were getting ready for a wedding. Between glasses of Prosecco, we enjoy the Jacuzzi and sauna before heading to private rooms for a relaxing massage.
The following day, we return to have our hair and nails done. I like Laura’s updo so much, I get something similar. There are so many style options with long hair. My hair is so blonde, it’s almost white. I can thank my Viking ancestors for that DNA.
Changing into Lululemon leggings and hoodies, Laura and I join my parents and brother in their limo for a ride to the airport.
Thankfully,the private jet has a fully stocked bar, and I find a bottle of French champagne to open. Papa gives me a look of disapproval, but he knows a glass or two of bubbly will help to calm my nerves. I’ve been on planes all my life, but for whatever reason, I’m still a nervous flyer. Especially on small jets.
My brother had no interest in coming, but Papa forced him into it. I don’t know what’s up with Giovi lately. I thought he would want to tag along and check out all the pretty women. They are all suitable for marriage, and he needs to start thinking about producing an heir.
Laura and I stake out a spot in the back, away from the others.
“Marco is so jealous,” she whispers, slipping her phone in her purse.
“Well, have you set the date?”
“He’s waiting for a promotion, but honestly, I can’t wait. I don’t care about it. We can rent something and make do with what we have.”
“He wants to take care of you, that’s sweet.” I wonder who I’ll find, if anyone. I’ve given up on finding a man at any of these affairs Papa takes me to. These things are disguised as society events, but arranged marriages don’t drop out of the air, and I begin to feel as if I’m on display.
The corners of Laura’s mouth curl and instinct tells me she’s thinking of her man. I long to have the same cat-that-ate-the-canary smile when I fall head over heels in love. I want to marry for love like Laura, but I don’t think it’s in the cards for me.
Papa and Giovi are in what looks like an intense conversation. Mama intervenes and it is quiet, except for the hum of the jet engines. I wonder what is going on, but I know better than to ask. I’ve been taught to be seen and not heard. But it doesn’t stop me from wanting to know just the same.
After a smooth landing, we exit the aircraft and carefully make our way down the steep steps with the help of our bodyguards holding our hands.
Two black Escalades wait to take us to the hotel. Both come with a set of bodyguards dressed for the affair later, which tells me, my leash is still attached, albeit invisibly.
The five-star hotel we’re staying in is near the museum. Laura and I squeal with excitement when we open the double doors to our own suite to use for getting ready for the event.
As soon as I’m dressed, I go next door to model the silky dress for Papa. I’m nervous about going without a bra and panties. I have to because the dress has a deep V cut in the back and the front is a nude mesh that resembles bare skin. I’m using a special tape to keep my boobs in place. The fabric is sparkly and shimmers with my curvy butt when I move.
Daddy would die if he knew I didn’t have panties on. His eyes furrow at me as he lets out a gruff ‘hm’ that sounds more like a cough.
He looked at Mama. “You expect her to get a suitable husband dressed like a goddamn stripper?”