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“It would be the first time I went to one, even if just to work.” Vittorio stares at me expressionless, as always. It's simply impossible to know what's going on in this man's head unless he tells you.
“Well, there's a first time for everything, I suppose.”
“I don't have any clothes,” I argue and then I look at the bags on the sofa, hoping to God that I don't have any clothes for a gala event in there.
“It’s already being arranged.”
“I don't know how to put on makeup.”
“It's already being taken care of, too” he replies, and although I don't know what that means, I imagine I'll get the same response if I say I don't know how to do anything more elaborate than braid my hair. I'm going straight to the point that Vittorio simply doesn't seem to see.
“I will embarrass you.” The words are spoken slowly and clearly. The Don tilts his head to the side, it's the only indication I have that he's giving my words any consideration.
“No, Gabriella. You won’t!” The certainty with which he says that is... disconcerting.
***
Every time I laid eyes on Vittorio, I stopped breathing. Now, as the man dressed in a tuxedo that appears to have been sewn piece by piece over his sculpted muscles looks me up and down, I react exactly the same and yet completely different.
This time, when my breath catches, the sensation blocking my airways isn't surprise or awe at the waves of danger around the Don. What keeps the air trapped in my lungs is the way he seems to simply see me. It happened in Brazil, in my old house. It happened last night on the plane. And it's happening now.
This morning, Vittorio left the suite before I had even finished eating my breakfast. Half an hour later, I finally understood what he meant by ‘it’s been arranged.’
The room's doorbell rang and the security guard, in whose care the Don left me, opened the door to a group of four women pushing a rack of clothes. Still wearing the robe, I blinked in fear, until I realized that it was for me.
Tatiana, Tássia, Giovanna and Iris turned me inside out without asking my permission, because they didn't need it, they had already received Vittorio's.
I went to the room on my own two feet, and that was the last thing I did alone before the four women began to perform a show for which they seemed perfectly rehearsed.
None of them asked me anything. During the late morning and all of the afternoon, I was massaged, brushed, exfoliated,and a million other things whose names end with the letters “ed”. It was a stupid thought, but I couldn't help but make the mental comment that I felt like the protagonist of that movie, ‘The Hunger Games.’
I just hope the party isn't some weird kind of fight for survival, I really hope not. Throughout the day, with the Vittorio element out of sight, I was able to think about the fact that I am actually going to a party. Me, Gabriella Matos. In a party. I actually laughed a little when the penny dropped.
And even though I didn't choose anything, from my attendance to the long, red dress with wide straps and a deep “V” shaped neckline on my body, I still felt excited. I watched like a spectator as product was applied to my slicked back hair, giving it a wet look with shiny waves falling down my back.
I didn't move as the simple makeup hid the redness still apparent on one side of my face, highlighted my eyes and painted my mouth the same color as the dress. And I refused to look in the mirror to see the result.
I had the impression that if the sight from earlier today surprised me, seeing my reflection now might give me some kind of freak-out, and I don't think Vittorio would be happy about being late because of that.
“You look beautiful,” the deep voice says in Italian, and I can't stop the warm feeling from spreading in my stomach, wanting to please him. I didn't expect this, nor the praise, nor the satisfaction that came with it. I need a few seconds to process the proper reaction.
“Grazie.”I give him a small smile.
“Let’s go”
CHAPTER 25
________
Gabriella Matos
Keeping my mouth shut is a genuine effort, Vittorio’s been crystal clear on the way here. I don't speak no matter what. Not if I'm asked, not if my life depends on it, I just don't speak unless it's to him and he asks me to.
With every step I take into the large hall where most of the guests are gathered, the more immersed I feel in the atmosphere of glamor that captured me long before I even stepped out of the car. We were still in it when I realized that the sudden slowdown in traffic was due to the red carpet in front of the museum where the event is taking place.
The driver took a detour and took us to a completely empty side entrance. After passing through a few deserted rooms and corridors, luxury and glitz exploded right before my eyes in the form of crystal chandeliers, formal attire, summer flowers, and a tower of glasses with some sort of bubbling beverage right in the middle of the room.
With his arm hooked around mine, Vittorio leads us through various environments, occasionally being stopped by guests eager for his attention. He doesn't spend much time on any of them.
