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“So why are we having this conversation?”
“Because even though I know this, the mothers in the organization are wondering if this is true. You are a single man, all the young women available for marriage are waiting for you to decide to get married and, suddenly, they find themselves threatened by a foreigner. I'm just warning you.”
“I didn't know that I owed satisfaction to the women in thefamiglia.”
“Anxious women give their husbands hell. Harassed husbands begin to demand things to which they have no right. Men demanding what they have no right to mean casualties. Casualties that can be avoided if you have the necessary willingness to let mothers and their daughters know what we both know.”
“And what would that be?”
“That the Brazilian woman is a means to an end.” I smile because that's why Matteo Corleone becameconsigliere. The statement is disguised as advice, but it is actually a reminder.
“And you think I need to be reminded of that.”
“I think themammasneed to be reassured of this.”
“Spare me the half words, Matteo. If you have something to say, say it.”
“If I had anything to say other than that, I would say it, Don. That's not the case.” His impassive posture and indecipherable face make me shake my head, denying it.
“And how do you suggest I do that?”
“Francisca Corleone is getting married next weekend, show yourself as available.”
"Are you suggesting that I imply that I'm looking for a bride?"
“No. I'm suggesting that you let them believe that this is a future possibility.”
“Maybe I should make the same suggestion to you.”
“If it is your decision for the good of Sagrada, I will be happy to obey it, Don.”
“Be careful, Matteo,” I warn, but the man doesn't even move a muscle. He stares at me in silence before standing up and buttoning his jacket.
“I will give your answer to Massimo.” I dismiss him with a nod and when he leaves, closing the door behind him, I sit back in my chair.
Apparently, Gabriella won't be the only woman I have to dance with this week. However, something tells me that next week, dancing with her will be the only one I remember.
CHAPTER 38
________
Gabriella Matos
I run my hand over my neck, feeling, even after weeks, the lack of that necklace. The lack of what, for that night, it meant.
I could ask for it back. I haven't picked out anything yet to use my bargaining credit for, but what would be the point if what I really want isn't the diamonds, but what it felt like to have them placed around my neck?
I can't have that again, I never will. I get up from the desk, deciding to stop thinking about it, it's not even seven in the morning and I'm already letting myself be consumed by this insane desire, when it's been less than four hours since I finally managed to get a break from it, by sleeping.
The magazines, stacked on a bean bag chair on my way to the bedroom door, however, have something to say about it. I stopped letting Rafaella throw them away. A person inclined to be inconvenient might even say that I started collecting them.
The house staff keeps leaving them behind with the intention that I read the increasingly nasty headlines, but I'm not interested in them at all, it's the photos that fascinate me to the point of madness.
Wherever Vittorio and I go, we are photographed, and in the last three weeks there have been many places. The opera, themunicipal theater, a violin concert in a floating theater, more dinners in incredible restaurants and a few other events.
At least three times a week, the Don lets me know at breakfast that we have plans for the evening, and I've increasingly allowed myself to pretend during those nights. I tell myself it's just one more time, that this is the last time, but it never is.
Whatever was awakened in my lower belly on that dance floor that night refuses to go back to sleep until it is completely sated, and I don't know how to do that. I spend the night tossing and turning on the makeshift bed on the plush carpet until I fall asleep. I wake up desperate for a cold shower after being tormented by Vittorio even more intensely in my dreams than I am in real life. In reality, at least his warm looks, his subtle touches, and the feeling that he is about to consume me comes down to the rare moments when we are alone in our game of make believe, on dates.
