The Mafia Boss

Part 4: Home

I don't understand what he expects me to do. Wait, I do. He expects me to listen to his fucking orders. We've dated seemingly forever yet he makes it abundantly obvious he hasn't learned anything about me while having more than enough time to study. 

I stare at the red cloth next to my spot on the bed and pick it up to distinguish the shape. Holding the thin shoulder straps, one per hand. In front of me is a dark red dress, sleeveless, silky, expensive for sure. It reaches halfway down my upper thighs. I toss it back on the bed and enter the bathroom. Longing, nearly desperate, for a shower after all the shit I've gone through today.

The steam fogs the mirror making my reflection nearly indistinguishable. I release my hair from the towel drying it and wipe the mirror with one swipe. I look horrible. Scary, almost. But who gives a shit, I definitely do not. I've never been one for makeup, It's a waste of time, resources and money. A good brush of the hair, a wash of the face and some cream will do wonders, including saving a ton of very limited time. 

His bathroom is massive, with the soft colors of dark brown and dark grey. It has a shower on one side and a bath, which could double as a swimming pool for at least 10 people, on the other. There is a sink on the opposite wall between them, with a huge, framed mirror reflecting the window opposite. Beneath the sink are dark brown, wooden cupboards. 

Jealousy is the only feeling I focus on. The only feeling I want to focus on. If I think too much about everything else, I might break down. I might fall to my knees and scream and shout and cry. Focus on the jealousy. Focus on imagining a bathroom like this at home. Home. A place I could never see again. Home, where I've felt safe my entire life, curled up in bed or in front of the TV, waking up late, stressed, waking up early, bored, in bed with a stranger, or someone I know, or alone. It was small but I never whished for anything other than my own, perfect home. But not only was that house home to me but to the bad memories haunting it as well. The moment I knew my dad had left for good, the pain it inflicted on my mother and the tears it brought to me. The empty bottles littered around, the smell of alcohol on my mother as she aims one for me. The sound of the door quietly closing at night, trying to remain unnoticed by me, only 14 years old wide and awake, anxious of my mother bursting into my room to hurt me again, and the unheard sound of it ever being opened again by her.

I take a deep, shaky breath and return to myself, straighten my torso and head to the bedroom. Fuck the dress, I'll wear whatever the hell I want to. I open the closet doors and analyze the inside. All his clothes, perfect. I take out a white, long-sleeved blouse and his pink boxers. Possibly, probably, the ugliest underwear I have ever seen. It has butterflies and hearts all over it.  He has terrible taste, could've guessed it. I put on the bra I was wearing, that he had the decency not to take off, at the very least, and dress up. There's no point in wearing panties and they're dirty in any case. The bouse reaches my knees and a strip of the pink boxers are visible underneath. I don't bother with shoes because he hasn't presented me with any so they must be unnecessary and open the door to see the tall, dark-haired figure staring down at me.

"I gave you one hour, and you took one and a half. I'm going to have to find a manner in which to make you more punctual in the future and lucky for you I know many." his cocky smile dissolves into a frown once his gaze travels down my body. 

"We'll talk about it over dinner, follow me."

After having followed him down carpeted hallways and staircases, listening to the hollow thump of our footsteps meeting with the floor. He had opened the door and revealed to me a beautiful garden with flowers and trees, with all different colors and smells. He sat me down at a table on in the middle of the garden. 

I could live in this garden; it is so calm and not unnecessarily big like everything else inside including the house itself. It's so amazing having flowers surrounding me something about just makes me happy. The table is round fitting not more than two people. I didn't realize at first, I was so busy losing myself in the glamour of it all, but Matteo was looking at me and something about his piercing gaze woke me up out of this dream, this fake dream, created by money and illusion, created by him, to impress me, to lure me. I had returned his stare with one of my own, transforming my look of awe: lips barely apart, eyes wide, cheeks flushed, to one of indifference. And his does the same going from a look of amusement to one nearly of disappointment.

"So, I see you're not going to make this easy for me, or are you?" his low voice whisps me back into the present from my past in my thoughts. I give him a stare of pure hatred.

"I will do everything in the very little power that I have to piss you off. I will make sure everything is going to as hard as possible for you. Don't you ever fall into the deception that this is going to be painless or fun for either one of us." his smile makes me want to drive the un-touched fork next to the ignored food on the plate in front of me right through his chest. The servants had brought the food in the moment we had sat down. But I will not eat anything. I will never eat anything he offers me, I refuse to. 

"I love a challenge." he gets up from his chair and walks over to mine with agonizing slow steps.

"And I believe everything you said, except for one thing." his head dips down coming closer to mine. Magnifying his stupid, annoying, infuriating, beautiful, breathtaking, heart-breaking face, with those eyes and those lips, that luscious dark, wavy hair. 

"This will be very fun," his lips are too close to mine, I can't breathe. Just breath. Just breath. In and out, in and out. 

"but it's your choice if it's going to be fun for the both of us" his hand tucks my hair behind my ear brushing my cheek along the way, the touch feather light but had the effect as heavy as a rock.

"or only for me." his smile shows its irritating self again and he pulls away from me so he's standing in front of me, forcing me to crane my neck upwards to shoot him a smile and to say: 

"You're right," I get up from my chair and we're both standing. I step closer to him, leaving no space between us anymore. He's so absurdly tall. My head reaches his shoulders, even a little below, and my eyesight mainly consists of his chest, draped in a blouse the same as mine, if I look straight. My hand reaches his left lower, thigh and slowly travels upward. The material of his suit pants perfectly soft. Before reaching exactly where I know he wants me to go I halt. 

"This is going to be fun." and I pull away my hand. I can hear him attempting to steady his breathing and feel the shudder running through his body, all while looking into my eyes and me staring right back, with a devilish smile on my face. That smile of his is nowhere to be seen. A twinge of pride shoots through me at that.

I walk away letting him watch me, knowing he's watching me. He's standing there in the exact position I left him, but his head turned, looking after me. I open the door leading back inside and away from the garden of my dreams, generated by riches and mirage. I walk the path which had been printed with both our footsteps on the way towards, reprinted by mine only on the way back. 

I don't care that it's his room I'm entering now, he'll have to find a new one while I sleep in this one. I take off his blouse and my bra, replacing them by one of his huge shirts. I don't know the time but it's well past midnight, and exhaustion is one of my two enemies at the moment, the other being fucking tall and an asshole, so falling asleep is easier than it has been in a while.