(Renata Pellegrini)
“This is going to go to shit”- My mind alerts me as I hold the doorknob of the door I suspect is the basement.
I close my eyes and the image of his dark look makes a shiver run down my spine, Filippo when he is angry is very scared, his eyes become horrifyingly cold and dark, like those of an evil wolf… This was the first expression I saw on him. Even today I remember the constant feeling of danger I felt when I looked into his eyes, my warnings were right, I fell into the trap and today I am in love and willing to live next to him.
But what expression will he make when he finds out that I did exactly what he asked me not to do?
Just imagining his face disappointed in me makes my heart squeeze. Okay, I don’t think we should have secrets between us, even more so when we are living together now, but I have to wait his time, no one is obliged to open up like this. And also, we haven’t been together that long, I’m sure that as time goes by, he will not only tell me, but maybe even bring me into this basement and show me what he has been hiding.
I just need to trust the kind of man I hate the most, but who in the end, was the man I chose to give my heart to. The man I risked my life for, the man who saved my life and was always here to comfort me, who even though his ideas differed from mine, promised to protect me from everything, even from himself.
“I just hope I don’t regret going against all my principles, just to be with him” – I wail in thought and sigh, I place my forehead on the cold wood of the door. – “Dad, Mom, I’m sorry, I ended up falling in love with someone who is far beyond my standards, and I was about to snoop around the one place he asked me not to enter, being that you have always taught me never to betray the trust of the one who places it in me.”
I let go of the knob and walked back to the bedroom. I had nothing to do. The last time I was here, he showed me the living room, the kitchen, the guest bathroom… The only parts I didn’t know were the basement and his bedroom. From now on, ours.
“Our bedroom,” I whisper to fix it in my mind, it is still weird, I am sharing the room with a man, my man. My companion, my partner… Only mine.
I look at the time on my cell phone and it is three in the afternoon. It has been twenty minutes since Filippo left, he didn’t even tell me where he was going, what time he would be back, and I don’t even know if there will be other people, besides Matteo… That is if he is there too, just because he said that name on the phone, doesn’t mean that he went to meet him.
“It wouldn’t hurt to be satisfied,” I murmur, and curl up in the comforter. “When you get back, we’re going to have to talk about this.” I determine, feeling my eyes heavy; I didn’t sleep well last night.
Although Filippo’s house is not a luxurious mansion, there is air-conditioning in every room, and it is so nice to be under the covers.
The house is spotlessly clean, I wonder who does the cleaning? Does he have a housekeeper? He seems to be the kind of person who loves luxury, but his house says otherwise, here it says that he is a simple man, I prefer it that way.
It didn’t take me five minutes to clean my clothes in the closet, and the clothes didn’t take up a third of the space he left for me… It’s been three days since my salary was deposited. I wanted to call Amanda to go shopping with me, but I didn’t expect her reaction… I open the gallery and look at a picture we took in the company cafeteria. She is amazing, she has a lot of strength, many people couldn’t stand what she endured and still continues to endure for the only relative she has alive.
I pass the photo and now I look at the only photo I have of my parents, how I wish I could introduce Filippo to them. Would he and my father get along? They are two Italians. A solitary tear runs down, I miss them so much, and now I also miss Amanda, and the worst part is that I know exactly where she is, but I can’t go. Feeling mentally shaken, I fall asleep.
***
“Filippo?” I call his name as I feel the warmth of his fingers on my face. “What time is it?” I ask with my eyes still closed.
“Seven,” he answers and I immediately get up, shit! I ended up oversleeping.
“Where have you been?” I ask, scratching my eyes with the back of my hand.
” I had to solve some problems for my brother.”
“What was with you that day in the club?” I ask, remembering the embarrassment I felt when I patted him on the back while he was kissing Amanda.
“No, this time it wasn’t Vincenzo, it was Matteo,” he explains.
“You have two brothers? Are you the older one?”
“Yes and no, I’m the younger one, Matteo is the older,” he answers smiling, as it seems he has a lot of affection for his brothers.
So, Matteo Valentini is Filippo’s older brother, is that why my teacher told me to use this name in order to pass the interview? But I have never seen this guy. How could I explain that he would somehow harm the interviewer if he didn’t give me the job? Thank goodness I didn’t say anything.
I close my eyes when his lips cover mine, the tip of his tongue asks for passage and I grant it, he hugs me around the waist and I hug him by the neck, our tongues caress and tease each other in a slow and exciting way, I wrap my fingers in the hair on the back of his neck and pull them lightly, in response he squeezes me even tighter against him, making the kiss even more libidinous, intoxicating, so delicious that his little bites on my lower lip make me sigh.
By instinct, I rest my legs, one on each side of his body, and sit on his lap, his bulge brushing against my intimacy, this makes me pull his hair tighter and he squeezes me even tighter, his hands travel down my body until they reach my breasts, starting to massage them, making me gasp between the kiss and rubbing our intimacies even more.
He moves down, nibbling the skin of my neck and I kiss the skin of his shoulder exposed by the t-shirt, his hands hold my back and in one quick movement, he spins me around and lays me down on the bed, kneeling between my legs, one of his hands holds the hem of my dress and slowly lifts it, as my torso becomes evident, Filippo deposits a kiss on my skin.
“Rooonc… rooonc” – my belly begins to rumble, Filippo looks at me and smiles, making me even more embarrassed.
“We better feed this tummy first,” he says and takes my hand, pulling me out of bed.
We go hand in hand to the kitchen, and I am so happy that Filippo is not an stupid, he is always so patient with me when it comes to sexual relations. Nowadays, for most men, a girlfriend is only good if she’s always there to be a cum dump, and I’m so relieved that Filippo isn’t like that.
I watch our hands holding hands and my heart warms up, I hope that this feeling is reciprocal. I’m still afraid that I’m giving in more than he is, it’s not because he’s a good man that he’s feeling the same intensity that I am.
“Tonight we have mashed potatoes and steak with salad for dinner,” Filippo says, taking the plates out of the refrigerator.
“Who made them?” I ask, sitting down at the table.
“Miss. Luisa,” Filippo answers, putting dinner in the microwave. – She is my house helper,” he explains. “She is the one who cleans and makes my meals, now ours, I have already told her that you have come to live with me.”
“When will I meet her?”
“We’ll have to set a date, she only comes after I’ve already left for work and leaves before I arrive.”
“And what about Sundays?” I ask, wondering about this routine, where they never see each other.
“She already leaves the cooked food in the fridge on Saturday.”
“Does she decide what you will eat every day?”
“Most of the time, yes, but if I want something specific, just leave a note on the refrigerator door.”
“Ah,” is all I say, and the microwave beeps.
Filippo puts the plates on the table and sits down in front of me at the round table, his cell phone starts ringing, I grab the fork and try the mashed potatoes, how I love this.
“Mom…”
“Humm,” I can’t hold back a groan of pleasure as I try the puree. “How delicious!”
“Niente madre, è solo un’amica” – “No mother, it’s just a friend,” Filippo says in Italian, making me stop eating, I look at him and he gets up from the table. “Non riesco ancora a venire in Italia…”
He disappears into the hallway saying that he still can’t go to Italy, leaving me stagnant with my fork in my hand at his line, a friend? Is this really serious?