I peek inside and find a beautiful mural on the ceiling. I recognize the artist and it dawns on me that Massimo isn’t just wealthy, he’s insanely rich. This artist has work in the Uffizi. I sit down and lean back in an old, red velvet-covered chair and stare at the mural. I feel lucky to be one of the few people able to enjoy the colors and imagination, as this is a private residence.
I have more questions than answers when my bat phone goes off. I should learn how to change the ringtone, and I chuckle.
Massimo is in a good mood, it appears; he’s sending Ridolfo to go with me to the police station with an attorney for the interview.
“That’s fine. Why is Ridolfo still here?”
“I wanted him to stay in case we needed assistance.”
“Oh.” Hmm. A man that plans ahead.
“Don’t get any ideas. He knows what’s going on and that you are mine. But he’ll keep you safe.”
“You can’t go with me?” I try to hear where he’s calling from, but it sounds like a car’s Bluetooth speaker.
“No, don’t mention my name or where you are staying, say you are planning to head home to Sicily today. Don’t screw this up, it could jeopardize your family,” his voice turns serious, almost threatening, and I sit up straighter in my chair.
Why do I feel like I have to please him? Why does my heart flutter and make me feel weak when he gets domineering? I cross my legs as my pussy pulsates with the inflection of his voice that is powerful, demanding.
“Fine,” I reply sternly after a pause to make him wait.
I subconsciously wait for the special phone to ring even though I deny it to myself. I’ve spent the past few months waiting for a call from him, running my fingers over its shiny exterior, and now he’s….my reality.
Damn him.
No boyfriend ever made me toe the line like him and yet I find myself compelled to do what he wants.
“Glad we can agree.” He hangs up.
He’s all work. But surely he must play as well.
I find Samira in the kitchen prepping a roast for tonight.
“Does Massimo have a girlfriend?”
“Ha, they are not good women, like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“They fall for him, and he’ll have none of that, they get angry. The last one tried to ruin the mural.” She shrugs.
This seems like a Greek tragedy playing over and over again.
“Are they wealthy?”
“Some are, some are not worthy of him, but he sees through all their games.”
Interesting.
The door opens and Ridolfo walks in with one of Massimo’s men. I run and give him a big hug. Savio left earlier so I’m relieved to see a familiar face.
To my surprise, he hugs me back. “You, okay? He’s treating you well?”
“Yes.” My arms slip from his neck as he says we need to go.
It appears the guard is driving us. Ridolfo preps me for the questioning as we ride in the luxury SUV. I’m to say I stayed with Ridolfo last night. I don’t understand Massimo’s need for secrecy, and I hate telling lies, but my family’s lives depend on it. I know Massimo’s more than capable of killing anyone.
Massimo, being Albanian, must’ve pissed Papa off. So proud of his Sicilian heritage, I’m sure a mixed blooded baby from us would have killed him. Massimo has something on him for sure.