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“Whatever you think you are doing, you need to stop it. You are fiddling with the help, Antonio.” Disdain stuck to her face like a permanent mud mask.
Stalking over, she stood with her hands on my table, trying to tower over me. An impossible task given her height of four-feet-something inches over my six feet three. I had always thought that was the reason for her uncouthness. What she lacked in height, she made up for in cruelty.
Jabbing her finger at me, she ordered,“You make this right straight away. I am sure Francesca will listen to reason. Tell her whatever works. You are a man. Seduce her.”
“Not going to happen,” I said, my voice hard.
She narrowed her eyes at me. “What were you doing with her, anyway? Is this some kind of new bonus package for the help?” she snickered.
I waited for the guilt to rush over. But all I felt was a sheer joy that I would soon break whatever plans she had conjured up for me without my own knowledge.
“We were out celebrating… our marriage.” I had to enjoy the minor pleasures in life. Like the sight of her mouth gaping open and her eyes popping wide. One would think I had told her I was fucking a pig. She looked so shocked the air hung still with an eminent stroke. But of course, she recovered.
For once, I was happy that she mostly unleashed her fury in Italian. I didn’t care for Divya to pass by and hear the torrent of jargon coming out of her lips.
“Che cazzo. Why would you do such a disgusting thing?”
Her pudgy figure and bloated face were red, pulsing from her frustration and fury. My mother, who always looked the epitome of perfection with her perfectly made face and bright red lips, looked ruffled, for once.
I swear my fascination with Divya has something to do with the absence of red lips.
My day might end well after all.
She dropped her expensive designer handbag on the chair and watched me shrewdly. “Francesca told me that Judge Rosso was dining there as well.” She watched me closely. “You married her, of course, for the papers.”
I couldn’t be bothered to comment. She tapped her fingers on the table while she thought up a plan. Her fucking nails on the wood set my teeth on edge. “All is not lost, of course,” she said tightly. “No one needs to know… except, of course, for the paperwork.” She waved her hand dismissively. “You have a bit of time now to court Francesca, as a good Sicilian girl well deserves,” she continued. “Otherwise, you might have had to rush everything. Francesca is beautiful and has, of course, high standards.” She laughed nervously at me and stood up. “You keep this quiet, resolve the custody thing, and then you can divorce this woman.”
From no divorce to two?
She picked up her bag, screaming out some designer’s name. “Make no mistake, Antonio, I do not want to hear otherwise. Capisti?” she said, sharply.
Did she really think I would listen?
I remained mute because I didn’t care to speak of my plans. To her.
“I will take that as your agreement,” she said, choosing to ignore my silence. She walked to open the double doors to let herself out.
I was rising from my chair when the door opened again with her head in between.
“And don’t fuck her in the meantime. I do not want another one of mixed descent.”
The rush of fury in my chest burst out of my very being. My vision blurred, clouding it red. When I blinked, she was gone. One day, even my respect for my father won’t hold me back.
No. Non ho capito.
My mind exploded with images of a cute baby brother or sister for Cora. A combination of me and Divya, or perhaps just a mini Divya.
I seriously had to fuck my wife.
But before that, I thought, switching off my computer and closing my office doors softly to walk upstairs, I had a party to organise, to announce my wedding to the world.
This was good, I thought as I walked upstairs. I can grovel back into the good graces of my angry wife and piss off my mother at the same time. Two birds and one stone situation. I was sure she would love a party, making our marriage more real than just a piece of paper.
Did she really think I couldn’t read her displeasure at city hall?
I would love to show her off to my allies and enemies alike. And maybe warm my way into her bed. I didn’t know why I spent so much time trying to seduce her when I knew if I pushed through, she would relent. But I wanted her to want it as much as I did. Only then would she understand this need deep inside me to wrap around her.
A glance at my watch told me it was past ten. Just as I guessed, my pretty little wife was sleeping already. This sofa situation was pissing me off. I stood next to her, listening to her breathing. She pretended to be asleep. But she wasn’t. She should have known that I could read her body better than Cora’s favourite book.
