The Mafia's One Desire

chapter 9: sensations

Sofia Milan Romano

Once I had clothes on -- consisting of Alessandro's black boxers and black dress shirt, a black, lace bra, and blacks socks -- which are not the ones that he set out for me, I'm not sure what I want to do with the rest of my day. I introduce myself to Agustin Marchesi, Basilio Lastra, Ettore De Bortoli, and Luca Napoli before wandering aimlessly around his house for about forty-five minutes. 

I give myself a tour of the mansion, even finding a hidden torture chamber (not kidding or exaggerating) and a whole game room. I squeal in excitement when I find an Xbox hidden behind piles of movies. Oh, this is going to be so much fun. I grab a controller, turning on the console, and yell for Luca. 

When he comes in, I ask him for a bag of white cheddar cheese puffs while covering my body with a giant, fuzzy, black blanket. It takes me about ten minutes to get prepared, and then I turn on Forza Horizon 4.

I'm not sure how many hours have passed but all I know is that I'm sure I've been playing video games all day. Cans of Coca-Cola lay around my feet, my fingers, and now the controller covered in cheese dust, the trap music blaring as the artificial roar of the engine is ready to burst our eardrums. Our meaning Agustin, Ettore, and I. 

They couldn't resist watching me play after I started yelling at the game around hour two. Luca and Basilio decided to not destroy their brain by staring at a tv all day and make sure that no one would try and hurt me. I'm very grateful for both of them, but I have to say that Agustin and Ettore are having way much more fun. We are so entranced in the game, that we don't even hear Alessandro come home, till his roaring voice echoes throughout the house.

"Where is she!?"

"Sir, please."

"Dimmi dov'è o ti taglio la gola, fottuto bastardo. Non prendermi per il culo, ragazzo."
[Tell me where she is or I'll cut your fucking throat, you fucking bastard. Don't fuck with me, boy.]

"Game room, sir. With Ettore and Agustin."

It doesn't take long for his pounding steps to be radiated throughout the house, and soon I see him brooding dangerously in the doorway. His fists clench tightly, so that white rings are positioned around his tan, bloody knuckles. His shoulders are tense (in the hottest suit I have ever seen) as if he's waiting for someone to attack him. 

The two boys beside me move to stand at attention, as if they are in the military, and with one wave of Sandro's hand...they disappear as if they weren't even here in the first place. I glance over my shoulder to come to terms that I'm alone in a room full of delicate, expensive equipment with the most menacing and aggressive man that I have ever known. 

I'm not scared for myself but more from the things he could destroy in this room. I blink slowly at him, wondering what his next move will be, but he only stands there staring at me. I scrunch my eyebrows and tilt my head as I try to figure out what's going on.

"Can I help you?"

"Did anyone hurt you?"

"Hurt me? No! I had a great day. Why would some try to hurt me? Should someone have?"

"Of course not. Nothing happened at all today?"

"Besides me probably graining five pounds, killing brain cells, and yelling at the tv...no. Did something happen today?"

He finally takes a step out of the doorway, his shoulders and fists unclenching themselves, his body wilting in a relieved sort of way. He strides dominatingly across the room, his presence creating an aura of safety and power around me. I stand, the blanket falling softly to the floor. His large hands cradle the sides of my face as his thumbs caress the sides of my face.