It wasn’t pure white, but slightly, delicately peach colored. The dress featured a bare back and was covered with thin lace. It was tight fitting from the waist up, while the lower part was flowy and loose, with a very long train—at least six feet long. The perfect V-shaped neckline went perfectly with my small breasts, allowing me to wear no bra. There was delicate crystal embroidery beneath the breasts, perfectly complementing the gown with its gentle glimmer. It was perfect. Ideal. I knew Massimo would love it.
“You need a veil,” Emi said. “One that will cover your back. We’re in Sicily, you know, and priests around these parts are crazy about those things.” She drew a circle on her temple with her index finger. “But I have something that will work.” The designer disappeared in the forest of hangers, only to return a moment later and cover me with thin, nearly translucent lace that shrouded me entirely like a cocoon. I was still visible beneath it, but at the same time it obscured my bare back enough for the priest to be happy.
“Now he won’t bother you,” Emi said, nodding with satisfaction.
Olga was sitting on the couch, drinking her third glass of wine. “I didn’t think it’d work. That was too easy, but you look amazing.”
That was a fact. I did look amazing, and I knew Massimo would think the same. The longer I kept looking at myself in the mirror, the clearer it became that I was really getting married. Slowly but surely, happiness came with that thought.
“All right, take it off me unless you want me to start crying,” I said, stepping down from the dais and trailing the train and the veil behind me.
When we freed me from the dress and I returned to the main room, the table by the sofa was already laden with various seafood delicacies. We sat on white chairs and dug into our dinner.
“It’ll be ready tomorrow,” Emi said between bites. “Domenico will bring it to the mansion. I hope you’ll lend him to me for this one night.”
I laughed, hugging Olga, who was sitting next to me.
“I already have a companion for lonely nights, so you can have him.” I turned to the young Italian. “Maybe it’s even better that you stay and watch over her, so she finishes on time.”
“I’m always watching someone. Either my brother’s runaway girlfriend or my own, always sewing something new. That’s my fate, it seems. One is a don, the other a seamstress.”
Emi dug an elbow into his side, shooting him a provocative glare. “You don’t have to watch over me if you don’t like it.”
Domenico leaned toward her and whispered something into her ear, making her lick her lips lusciously. I was jealous. Not of my assistant, or rather future brother-in-law, but of the fact that they had each other and could enjoy one another openly. Massimo and me? It was highly likely we wouldn’t be able to behave like this with other people present.
“What about me?” Olga asked. “With all those things we bought me, there still isn’t a single thing that would match your dress.”
Emi put down her fork, chewing a piece of octopus, and went to one of the hangers. “I can see the hooker style is something you’re familiar with,” she said, returning with a dress. “But it won’t do this time. Not in the church Massimo picked for you. Try this on.”
Olga made a face, but took the dress. Before she vanished into the dressing room, she called out, “Look how I sacrifice my values for you, Laura.” When she returned and stopped by the mirror, she had a change of heart. The dress she was wearing was the same color as mine, but had a different length and shape—it was a pencil dress with shoulder straps made of delicate matte silk. Very elegant. Perfect for Olga’s shape—large, round backside, flat belly, and large breasts.
“I’m glad there won’t be a party after the wedding. I can barely walk in this,” she said. “Only good for slow dancing, but it sure looks awesome.”
I sighed with relief, seeing my friend looking so good, knowing we were ready for my big day.
When we finished our food, it was getting late, and Taormina was already shrouded in darkness.
“Laura,” Domenico said as I was saying goodbye to Emi. “If anything happens, call me.”
“What is there to happen?” Olga asked, annoyed. “You’re worse than her mother.”
“I’ll walk you to the car,” he offered.
“You know what? I’m not that tired. I’d like to go for a walk. How about you, Olga?” I asked.
“Why not? It’s warm outside, and I’ve been here for two days and haven’t seen anything.”
Domenico didn’t look so happy with our idea, but couldn’t exactly say no, especially since we had our security team. “Give me a moment. I’ll call the guys. When you go downstairs, wait for them if they’re not already there. Or… you know what? I’ll walk you downstairs.”
“You’re impossible, Domenico,” I cried, pushing him through the door. “I’m nearly thirty and I’ve always coped without a band of armed men. I’ll be all right, so quit being so overprotective.”
The Italian stood watching me, arms crossed on his chest. “Just wait for them, please,” he hissed as I slammed the door shut.
“See you tomorrow. Bye!” Olga shouted, and we ran down the stairs.
We waited a moment for the stone-faced bodyguards and headed down a street chosen at random.
The evening was beautiful and warm, and the streets of the small town were filled with tourists and locals alike. Taormina buzzed with life, music, and the smells of Italian cuisine.
“Would you ever move here?” I asked Olga, walking arm in arm with her.
“Here?” she asked, surprised. “I don’t know… nothing really keeps me in Poland, but there’s nothing for me here aside from you.”
“Is that too little?”
“I don’t know, but remember how much time it took me to move to Warsaw? I don’t like changes. And I’m afraid of drastic ones.”
Right. It had taken me ages to talk her into moving with me.
I had been living in Warsaw for the past eight years, having moved there to escape Piotr’s pathological love. When I finally relocated to the capital, I had nowhere to live, and the job I had been offered was right for me in every aspect aside from the financial. My mother still couldn’t accept that I had chosen the option that I had, but I knew it had been the right thing to do. There had been two opportunities for me. The first one had been a job as a manager of a five-star hotel, but with the wages of a part-time worker. The pros had been that I would get my own business cards and a boost to my ego. On the other hand, there had been that exclusive beauty salon that had wanted me as a new stylist—that would mean I’d have to serve rich, haughty old crones. The paradox had been that as a manager I earned three times less than what they had offered me at the salon. In the end, the lure of a prospective career that would grow had won me over and I went with the hotel. After that there had been other hotels and other failed relationships—when you work in that industry, your job is your life. There’s no time for anything else. It can be awesome if you’re single, but when you’re in a relationship, it just doesn’t work. The choice between your job and the person you love is a constant struggle. It’s exhausting. So you fuck up either your relationship or your job. In the end, I decided to be single and climb the steps of the corporate ladder, finally reaching the position of sales manager. That’s when something broke inside me. I had saved a lot of money, so I could quit my job and look for something more satisfactory. Martin had supported me in that decision. He used to say they were using me at work. The truth is that he had simply needed a full-time cook and cleaning lady at home.
“You know, Laura.” Olga’s voice brought me back to reality. “I can come here once in a while when the child is born. I know next to nothing about kids, though. They scare me. They shit themselves all the time. But I’ll manage somehow. For you.”
“Better tell me how am I going to manage?” I snapped, shaking my head. “Normally I would call Mom to come to the rescue, but if she sees all this—the armed bodyguards
, the house, the cars… she’ll kill either me or herself. Or them.”
“How about Massimo’s mother? Won’t she help you out?”
“His parents are dead. They died in a boat accident. It was probably an attack, but it was never proved that anyone else had something to do with the explosion. Massimo told me his mom was incredible. She loved him very much. He doesn’t like to talk about his parents, but when he does, his eyes change. And his dad? Well, you know… head of the family. More of an authority figure than any kind of emotional support. The only member of his family I’ve met is Domenico.”
“Why did they hide the fact that they’re brothers?” Olga asked, leading me down another narrow alley.
“I don’t think they’ve been hiding it. They just didn’t tell me, and I didn’t think to ask. I think Massimo picked him as my guardian because he trusts him the most.”
“Remember Mariusz, the guy from real estate? He got you a guardian, too, no?” She laughed sharply. “That was a weird one, right? Total psycho.”
I nodded, frowning at the memory. I used to go out with a guy who really liked to show off, trying to conquer my heart by playing someone he was not. He had lived above his means, as it turned out, but in the beginning there was this one situation when he told us that he couldn’t go with us to a club, but he’d send “his man” with us instead. He gave the guy some cash to pay for our drinks and so on, and at first he really did his job, shooing away all my potential admirers. But at some point he had one too many and it turned out he was a psycho. He started hitting on Olga and me, making scenes, shouting and swearing, but—as my friend knew all the bouncers at all the clubs—our guardian ended up on his ass, outside the club, with a black eye and crying like a baby.
“Yeah, that was pretty intense. But I have a better one. Remember when we went to a club on our own, and everyone thought we were hookers?”
“Oh yeah!” she exclaimed. “We wore white and that guy had his birthday. What a party!”
I huddled against her arm.
“You know it’s not going to be like that anymore,” I said regretfully. “Everything is going to change now. I’ll have a child, a husband, the whole package. All that in only two months!”
“You’re overreacting,” Olga replied. “You can hire a nanny. You’ll have to, anyway, with all of Massimo’s trips. You won’t have to cope alone. Besides, who will you leave the kid with when you go to a ball or some formal dinner? You better start thinking about it already.”
“Why would I?” I asked, shrugging. “I know he’ll decide for me. I won’t have a say in anything. It’ll be about his child’s safety.” I shook my head, suddenly afraid. “Jesus, he’ll lose it. He’ll be too scared to leave us for even a minute.”
Olga burst out in laughter, and a while later I joined her.
“Or he’ll keep you in a cellar, just to be sure.”
We walked for another hour, reminiscing the not-so-old times, until it got really late. Stopping for a while, we allowed our bodyguards to catch up with us and asked them to take us home.
CHAPTER 21
The next day I woke up alone. Olga was gone. Why did she wake up this early? I thought, looking for my phone on the nightstand.
“What the fuck?” I swore, seeing it was already 1 p.m.
I didn’t know I could sleep this long, but the doctor had said something about sudden exhaustion. Apparently it was natural for someone in my current state.
Still dazed, I went to the bathroom to get myself ready to leave and headed out to look for my friend. I went to the garden first, where I found Domenico. He was sipping coffee.
“Good day. How are you feeling? I have some papers for you,” he said, pushing a stack my way.
“I don’t know how I’m feeling, really—I’m still super sleepy. Where’s Olga?”
The young Italian took out his cell phone and dialed a number. A moment later a boy joined us, bringing me tea with milk.
“Olga is sunbathing on the beach. What would you like for breakfast?”
I covered my mouth with my hand. The thought of eating made me want to throw up. I waved away Domenico’s question. “I’m nauseous. I don’t want anything for now, thanks. I’ll go to the beach.” I grabbed a bottle of water and went to the wharf.
On the way I finally stopped feeling queasy. The motorboat berthed at the quay reminded me of my panicked flight from the shower, from the horny Massimo and his hard cock.
“Why are you ogling that poor boat as if you’d like to fuck it?” I heard a voice, and saw Olga, half-naked, emerge from the water.
“You two fucked on that boat, didn’t you?” she asked.
With a mysterious smile, raising my brows, I turned to face her as she approached.
“I like your boobs,” I said. “Now I know why Domenico was so awkward.”
“Yeah, he came here and brought me a bottle of wine, doing his best to look me in the eyes. You should have seen it. Slept well?” she asked, lowering herself to a chaise.
I lay down next to her, closing my eyes and turning my face toward the sun. “I’m not sure. I think I could sleep through the day. Weird.”
“You’ve nothing better to do anyway, so go get some sleep or grab a bathing suit and let’s catch some sun before that wedding.”
I didn’t know if I even could sunbathe. I hadn’t thought to ask the doctor. “Can I sunbathe pregnant?”
“I don’t have an idea. I’m not much of a mother myself. Ask Uncle Google.”
Right. That would be logical. I took out my phone and tapped in my question. A while later I rolled to the side, facing Olga.
“No sunbathing for me. Listen to this: ‘The sun allows the skin to produce vitamin D, which is particularly important for the child. It is enough to take walks in the shade to reach the right level of the vitamin. Sunbathing isn’t recommended, as one cannot fully protect the skin against harmful UV rays. A pregnant woman’s skin is overly sensitive, and the sun may irritate it, causing discoloration. Besides, the body quickly dehydrates in the sun, which is detrimental to the child.’ ”
Olga turned to me, sliding her sunglasses halfway down her nose, and said, “You’ve binged on wine like crazy and you were pregnant for a while now. How is a bit of sun going to top that? Bullshit.”
“Well, now that I know I’m pregnant, I’m not going to risk getting an ugly hormonal splotch on my chin or something. Anyway, we have an invitation to a spa, so choose—either you stay here and grow old by the second with all that UV light, or we go have some fun.”
I grew quiet, waiting for a response, as she stood by the chaise with her bag in her hand, putting on a beach wrap.
“So? Are we going or what?”
In another hour, we were ready to leave, and Domenico parked my cherry Porsche on the driveway. He left the car and frowned slightly. “Don’t run away this time, okay?” He pointed to the black SUV, which stopped right behind my car. “Massimo gets furious when you do that, and the guys always suffer for it.”
I patted his shoulder and opened the door. “We’ve discussed it with the boss already. You can stop worrying. Did you program the route to the spa in the GPS?”
Domenico nodded and raised a hand to wave goodbye.
“What a fucking spaceship,” Olga groaned, looking around the interior of the car. “Who the fuck needs so many buttons? This is supposed to be a car! A steering wheel, three pedals, a gear stick, and four seats. What does this one do?”
“Jesus, don’t push them! It’ll catapult us through the roof or something.”
I slapped her hand away as she tried touching some other unidentifiable button. “Don’t touch it.” I shook my head. “I said the same thing when I got it, but they tell me its safe,” I added, shrugging with resignation.
When we drove out and reached the highway, I decided to show her what my Macan could do and stepped on the accelerator. The engine roared and the car shot forward, pressing us both into our seats.
“This th
ing is fucking fast!” Olga cried out in delight, turning the music up.
“You’ll see how the security guys start panicking now. I’ve lost them once already.”
I drove, weaving between other cars, overtaking them all. I was suddenly glad that I had learned how to drive from a man. My dad had always told me to drive safely and steadily, always in control, so both my brother and I had had to learn how to cope in the most dangerous and extreme situations on the road. Dad’s lessons hadn’t been meant to make us road hogs, but to prepare us for the various threats in traffic. Suddenly I heard the sound of a police siren. In the rearview mirror I glanced an unmarked Alfa Romeo with two men inside.
“Just fucking great,” I muttered, stopping on the side of the road.
A uniformed man walked over and said something in Italian. I spread my arms and tried explaining in English that I couldn’t understand him. Neither he nor his colleague knew the language, but from his gesticulation I deduced that I was supposed to show him my license and registration papers. I pulled the documents out and handed them to the policeman.
“Oh shit,” I hissed, turning my head to look at Olga. “I forgot my license.” She shot me a withering glare and stuck out her chest.
“Well then, I should probably go and give those two a blow job.”
“This isn’t funny! I’m being serious!”
The black SUV caught up with us then and stopped right behind us. Two of our bodyguards stepped out. Watching them, Olga said, “Now we’re really screwed.” The two groups approached each other and shook hands. It looked more like a meeting between colleagues than a police inspection. They talked for a moment, and then the officer walked back to me and handed me the papers.
“Scusa,” he muttered, and saluted briefly.
Olga shot me a surprised glance.
“He even apologized… Weird.”
The patrol car left, and one of the security guards walked over to me and leaned down, sticking his head through the window.
“If you’d like to test the car like that, we can go to the racing track. We’re authorized by don Massimo to take it away from you when you try to lose us again. So. Either you drive slower, or you go with us,” he said impassively.
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