Niccolo drove with me in silence. I believe he doesn’t trust himself to stay neutral with his emotions. He’s been a loyal friend since we were children. Our fathers worked together on family business, and with Niccolo’s mother looking after his siblings, my mom would invite Niccolo to come and stay with us. Even though he was older, he would still play with my sister and me. Although, I think he was just protecting us from my abusive father.
Dad always behaved like the doting father and husband in front of company. Somehow, Niccolo saw right through my father. As we grew older, my older sister, Mona, developed a crush on Niccolo that was in no way reciprocated. Mona was brazen in her attempts to attract his attention. It became impossible for Niccolo to show up at the house without her throwing herself at him. Eventually, he backed away, and what little buffer I had between me and my father disappeared.
After marrying Aurelio, I endured a new brand of cruelty. I became accustomed to being slapped, punched, and beaten. I perfected my makeup techniques to hide the bruises on my face and rarely bought clothing without sleeves to hide the marks. The worst was when Aurelio dragged me into our bedroom and wanted sex. All the romance stories I’d read led me to believe that this was a moment of love and bonding between two people. A connection of hearts and souls.
Instead, it was so painful, I begged him to stop. That just seemed to incite him even more. Even now, I can hear his harsh laughter. Thank God, he didn’t search me out too often. After that first night, I refused to cry or beg him to stop. I gritted my teeth and waited for him to finish.
As horrible as it may seem, it was a relief to come home one day to find him in our bedroom with one of his women. He saw me. Aurelio looked me straight in the eye, sneered, and then asked me to join in. I backed out of the room, listening as he called me a prude and laughed out loud. That was the day I moved into the spare bedroom at the farthest end of the house.
From that night on, Aurelio didn’t hide his women or curb his need to have a variety of them at his beck and call. What was supposed to be my sanctuary became a brothel. It wasn’t just the women, it was the poker games, the cocaine, and the whispers when I attended any of the ladies’ events where I was forced to be present on his arm.
For whatever reason, Alessio would invite us to the rare dinners he held mainly to entertain politicians, and when Leo and Lucia came to Las Vegas for their honeymoon. The other women at the table ignored me, but Lucia and I had a great chat. I loved getting to know her. Lucia has become a good friend, and I’ve been keeping in touch with her ever since.
The day Aurelio died, I should have been devastated, but all I felt was a weight lift off my chest, like I could breathe again. A release from the fear, the mental and physical abuse, and from the life I hated. I didn’t cry at the funeral. Our families called it shock, and I certainly didn’t correct them. The black veil covering my face kept the barrier between me and the other mourners. I thought I was finally free.
For a few months, my father was silent. Then he called me home to live with them. “It’s unseemly that a woman lives alone,” he said. Once I moved back, he began his plans. I had to stand up for myself, which only landed me in more hot water. The beating hurt so much that I barely made it out of the house and away from him. Dad left me in his study still lying on the floor. I knew if he came back to find me, it would start all over again. I gripped the back of a chair, forcing myself to stand, and snuck out the back. My hands shook as I turned the key in the car ignition and was terrified that I wouldn’t make it off the property without Dad’s guards hauling me back to the house.
Whether it was through luck or pity, Vitorio, the guard sitting out front, took one look at my face and waved me out the gate. As he walked away, he said, “Go right to Niccolo. I’ll tell him you’re coming. He’s at Alessio’s place.” I looked in my rearview mirror to see him pulling out his phone.
Niccolo was waiting for me and helped me into the house. I hurt so bad, I moaned and groaned through every movement. With each sound I uttered, Niccolo’s eyes grew darker with rage.
He sat me in Alessio’s office, brought me an ice pack, and had the housekeeper bring me tea. He told me not to leave the room and that he would be back soon. Except, when the door opened, Alessio stood in the doorway. A tremor ran through me. Was it fear? No. It was awe.
Alessio has a presence. He commands attention. He’s terrifying and entrancing at the same time. It’s not only his ruggedly handsome good looks. He’s not the typical tall, dark, and handsome. Although he is tall, with dark wavy hair and smoldering gray eyes, but it’s the way he walks with confidence, his decisive manner. He’s controlled and purposeful, and electrifying.
I try to block it all out, yet my thoughts keep going back to Alessio. The way his hand touched my cheek, his voice low and soft, like a warm cloak keeping me safe. He refused to let me go, to leave Il Destino, and to disappear entirely, but he also didn’t send me home.
Now, here I am, in Alessio’s apartment in the city. A guard stands outside the condominium door, and one sits in the living room. I’m not sure if it’s to stop me from leaving or to keep my father from entering. But for tonight, just this one night, I’m laying my head down on the softest pillows, and I’m going to try to block out the rest of the world.
.