6. Renata
Three days pass,and I don”t hear from Matteo. I”m stuck wondering whether he”s changed his mind.
On the fourth day, I”ve decided that he”s not going to text me because nobody waits four days; let”s be honest. My phone buzzes, and I look down to see an unknown number. I didn’t put his contact info in my phone as it seemed too needy. I pick up my phone and read the message, heart hammering a little too fast for comfort.
Hello, Renata. Sorry it”s taken me a few days to get in touch. Things have been very busy with work. Would you like to meet me for dinner Friday night? Matteo.
I ponder the message as I consider how to reply. I’m partly annoyed with him for taking four days to message me, and I want to say no. The worry is, if I do, he might not ask again. That will leave me having to explain to my parents that their clever plan can”t be put into place because their daughter ruined things yet again. Furthermore, I really want to go to dinner with him. That moment between us in his car was the most intense I’ve in years.
I could cut my nose off to spite my face, but what would be the point in that?
It wasn’t only the kiss either. I liked his protectiveness too. He was super pissed that I didn’t have a security detail. None of my damn family seem to care that much.
Maybe I ought to have one. Nico certainly does. His house is full of heavily armed men, so if any trouble came our way, he”s protected. Mamma and Babbo both have security at the big house, and it never really occurred to me to question why I don”t. Of course, when I lived abroad with my husband, I had security provided by him.
He never thought there was a direct threat, as he said I wasn”t part of the family in that sense anymore, and I never had been part of the business, but he still provided men to guard our home. He was a very minor arm of a long forgotten royal line, and most of his relatives came and went as they pleased. We were the only ones who had guards, and I know it was because of me not him. I always found it stifling somehow. When I came back to the UK, I had no one to watch over me. I didn’t think about it and simply enjoyed the freedom of being a totally free agent. In fact, I relished traveling alone. I had grabbed a train to the area where Nico lives with Cindy and never thought twice about how safe I was or not.
Still, now that Matteo has made such a fuss about it, I’ve been obsessively thinking about it, wondering if this is another way for my family to make me feel less than.
It will be due to my mother, I think with a sinking realization. I don’t believe for a second that my father wouldn’t have hired security for me the moment I announced the divorce, but Mamma would be the one to veto it, but for what reason? Because I shamed them by getting a divorce? God, she’s so incredibly petty sometimes.
They all have guards, and she’s left me twisting in the wind.
I shall take it as yet another slight that my family doesn”t seem to be concerned about my safety. After all, they”re always giving my safety as the main reason why I can”t go into the business, and yet I don”t have one security guard. Screw them, the hypocrites.
The more I dwell on it, the angrier I feel. It”s just another way in which they show me that I don”t mean as much to them as their precious son, or even their precious, sweet new daughter-in-law.
I tap a red nail against the glass on the front of my phone and consider my answer to the text. In the background I have Great British Bake-Off playing on the television. It”s my guilty pleasure. I”m not a particularly girly kind of a woman, but I secretly love baking. It”s one of the reasons I can”t ever seem to lose the last few pounds that I would like to lose. I work out and eat healthily generally, but then I will go and bake myself a lemon cake and eat the whole damn thing in three days.
Before I answer Matteo’s text, I pick up my phone and, on a whim, place a call. It rings twice before a gruff voice answers.
“Yes,” my brother barks down the line.
“Nice to speak to you too, brother dearest,” I say sarcastically.
“What do you want, Renata; I”m busy.”
“I just wanted to know why it seems that no one in this family thinks that I might need security.”
He sighs, and I can almost picture him pinching the bridge of his nose in impatience at my question. “You don”t need it,” he says. “There”s never been any hint of a threat against you. You”re not in the business in any way, and you married someone who has nothing to do with any of that. If you want security, though, you can have it. I can get a detail assigned to you within a day.”
I think about what he”s offered and realize it will come with strings. For a start, I wouldn”t put it past him to ask them to fill him and my parents in on everything that I do. I bet it would be more like a spy team than a security team.
“That”s alright,” I say. “I just wondered is all. I mean, our parents have security at the house, and Babbo has someone with him everywhere he goes. You have more men at the house with you and Cindy than some nations have as an army. Yet here I am, with no one.”
“Listen,” he says, and I recognize the anger in his tone. “The reason you”re not in the business is because of this kind of thing. We don”t want you at risk in the first place, and if you aren”t involved in our life, then you won”t be in danger. It”s different for Mamma because she”s married to our father and he”s still, on paper at least, the boss of our organization. You don”t have any power in the company, and you”re not married to anyone who does. It means you”re much safer than most.”
“You don”t think that if someone wanted to target our father, they might decide to take his precious daughter?” I ask. I can”t keep sarcasm out of my tone.
“Jesus Christ, Renata,” Nico seethes. “Either take a security detail or don”t. I don”t really care either way. You want the truth? I didn’t even know where the fuck you were after you left that useless, pampered, royal shit. Father should have organized it anyway, and I have no idea why he didn’t. The offer is there if you want it. Or, I can send you the money to organize it for yourself. Either way, just decide and stop your bitching. I’m fucking busy.”
“Fine. I don”t want your stupid security anyway.” I hang up the phone without saying goodbye and resist the urge to throw it across the room. I stare for a long moment at the TV screen and wonder if I should bake a chocolate cake. No, I decide. If I”m going to say yes to this date, I don”t need to be stuffing my face with more chocolate.
Picking my phone back up, I swipe my finger and open the text app. Then I write a brief reply to Matteo.
Thank you for the invitation, Matteo. I would love to join you for dinner.
His reply text comes only a moment later.
Great, I will pick you up at 8:00 PM on Friday. I”m just taking you somewhere casual, so feel free to wear whatever you”re comfortable in. It”s not swanky, but trust me, they have the best food. See you then. M.
I don”t send a reply but love heart the message, so he knows I”ve seen it and liked it. Then I worry that he might read too much into the simple reply than was intended.
God, I need to get a grip. I”m a woman, not a sixteen -year-old girl. I need to talk to someone. I could talk to Jilly about this, but something tells me she won”t really understand. She saw the wreck I was after the way Matteo played me, and she will be furious with me if she thinks I”m going to give him another go at wrecking my heart. I don”t have many other friends that I could talk to, not about something like this. It can”t get back to my family, which means I can”t really ring Cindy because I know for a fact that she”ll tell Nico.
Carol, I think. She won”t tell Cindy if I ask her not to because it doesn”t involve her goddaughter. With a smile, I head to my fridge and pour a small glass of perfectly chilled Chardonnay. Sipping at the delicious vanilla and oak flavors, I take a seat on the sofa, legs crossed under me, and call Carol’s number.
“Hello there, my darling,” Carol’s throaty tones drift through the ether to me.
I wonder where she is right now. “Are you still in Italy?” I ask.
“No, my darling, I”m in New York. Fashion Week. I have an invite from the editor of Visage magazine.”
Of course, she did. Carol is all kinds of fabulous. One week she”s at New York fashion week with the editor of Visage, and the next she”s at some sort of charity fundraising event with the Vice President of some European nation or other. Then the next week, she”s back on the Italian Riviera, hanging out with all the handsome pool boys that she seems to surround herself with. Carol is who I would like to be when I get older. What a life the woman leads.
“Wow, that sounds like fun,” I say.
“It”s pretentious nonsense,” she replies with a soft huff. “But you do get great goodie bags, so I thought, why not? I also quite like New York, and I can go to the galleries and museums, which I much prefer to this fashion nonsense. Don”t get me wrong, I love clothes, but the whole catwalk thing makes me cringe. Anyway, did you ring for a chat, or is there something on your mind?”
I like how direct Carol is. She doesn”t mess around, but she”s not brusque or unfriendly in any way.
“I need to talk to someone before I burst,” I blurt out.
“Who is he?” she asks.
“How do you know it has to do with a man?”
“It”s always to do with a man, my darling.”
I suppose she”s not wrong there. I tell her everything with the exception of the plan my parents have put into play. If I tell Carol that my family has asked me to infiltrate Matteo’s family and business and bring it to the ground, she will be horrified and tell me that I must stop this immediately. She will also be correct. It’s stupid and dangerous, and the more I think about it, the angrier I get because my parents clearly don’t care about my safety.
Instead, I tell her that I”ve bumped into an old flame, and that his family are deadly enemies with mine. I tell her what he did to me and how much it broke my heart, and I also tell her just how incredibly handsome he is these days, and I feel a pull to him like I”ve never felt to any other man.
“Should I go?” I ask.
“You need to frame this slightly differently,” she says. “The question shouldn’t be about whether or not you want to go for a meal with this man at this particular time. The question is a much larger one, and it”s one that you need to ask yourself about your life in general. Do you want to live dangerously and on the edge, but experience everything that life can give you? Or do you want to play it safe?”
After a short pause, she continues. “There”s no value judgment in either of them. Both can lead to a fulfilled life, but in very different ways. You could always choose to say no, make your excuses, and find someone of mutual interest. Someone you could fall in love with over time. You could date him, marry him, even have children with him.” There”s another pause, and I hear the click of a lighter, then an inhale. “You”d be very happy, I”m sure. Or, you can live the kind of life where you go for dinner with the one man who makes your heart beat faster than anybody else on this earth. Living that kind of life takes guts.”
“What would you do?” I don”t even know why I”m asking because I know exactly what Carol would choose.
“Darling, I’d take the risk. I”d go for the meal with the gorgeous man, and I”d get him into my bed. I’d pray that we would work things out and he would be the love of my life, but he”d probably rip my heart out for a second time, stomp on it, and give it back to me all bloodied and beaten. Then I”d probably spend the rest of my life not trusting anybody. But I’d still do it, risks be damned. And it”s not because I think that”s the right thing to do, or the clever thing to do; it’s because it”s the only thing that I could do. I suppose I’m built that way.”
She’s right, it is the way she’s built. She never backs down from challenges or opportunities, and her life is glamorous, but I do think in some ways it is empty and perhaps lonely. Then again, Mamma has two children, a husband, and a whole host of aunties around her, and yet, she always seems lonely too.
“Thank you; that does help. I don”t even know why I”m asking you because, of course, I”m going to go. I can”t not. I”m too intrigued to see how things are between us. It was strange the first night when we bumped into one another,” I say as I continue the lie of it being an accidental meeting. “We were both surprised and finding our ground again. He wants to go somewhere that he said isn”t upmarket but has delicious food. I”m hoping it”s private. That way we might be able to talk a bit more and maybe see how things feel between us.”
“Just don”t spend too much time overthinking it.” Carol gives a small laugh. “I say, have a delicious meal and then go to bed with the man. If he makes you feel tingles that you haven”t felt in many a year, then take the opportunity.”
There is a knocking sound down the phone, and Carol swears under her breath. “Darling, I must go. I”m running late. Listen, go on the date, then call me and tell me all about it. Have fun, and live your life. You”re a beautiful young woman, and you shouldn”t be mouldering in that rented apartment in bloody Windsor of all places. Why you couldn”t rent somewhere near me, or somewhere fabulous like Rome, I will never understand. Anyway, sweet child, I have to go. Speak soon. Mwah.” She blows a kiss down the phone and hangs up.
If I”m going to go on a date, then I need to look absolutely fabulous. However, Matteo said that it isn”t a posh place where we”re going, which means I don”t want to look out of place. I decide to do some shopping and grab my bag and wallet before I head out the door. There”s a nearby, and they will still have stores open until ten pm. I take my small car, deciding to drive there instead of grabbing an Uber. I own a little Fiat that is so easy to drive around, and I can park anywhere. I also don”t have to pay road taxes because it”s allegedly so fuel efficient as not to be polluting. I have no idea how true that is; all I know is that I can get into parking spaces that I could never get into with a beast of a car like the one Matteo drives. I park and hit the top level of the mall and head straight to one of my favorite stores to browse through the jeans. I have more pairs of jeans than I know what to do with, but I want a slightly faded pair that really hugs my curves and gives my bum a bit of a lift.
It never hurts to buy something new for a big date. Not that this is a big date. Still, I want to look my casual best. As if I haven’t tried at all and am just naturally sexy, when in reality getting ready for this date is going to be my job for the next few days.
After trying on about ten pairs of denims, I finally settle on some that make me look a few pounds lighter in all the right places. Next, I shop for tops and end up trying on three different silk shirts. I choose one with a gorgeous light blue print that reminds me of summer days. It will look nice tucked casually into the jeans, with a brown belt and a pair of heeled brown boots. Casual and yet, if I say so myself, sexy. The way the shirt clings to my curves and highlights the size of my bust is very flattering.
Long ago my dearest mother taught me one very valuable lesson in life. She told me that to always look your best is to know how to dress for your body type. It doesn”t matter, she had told me, whether you put weight on your stomach, on your thighs, or on your arms. It doesn”t matter because all you need to do is learn how to dress to flatter and disguise. Then she basically told me that I would always be a little bit too fat to be perfect, and that I better quickly learn how to smooth over my curves. The bitch.
Outfit in hand, I leave the designer store and stroll to the big department store at the far end of the mall. Once there, I purchase some shower gel, body lotion, and hair mist in my favorite perfume. It”s a decadent purchase because it costs me over three hundred pounds, and I already own the perfume, but I just want to look and smell my absolute best. Then I text my hairdresser and ask her to please, please, please fit me in for an emergency appointment on Friday morning. If she can give me a fantastic blow dry, that will go a long way to helping my confidence.
I pause as I”m walking and consider the thoughts that just went through my head. This is not me. I”m a confident woman for God’s sake.
I’m the sort of woman who can walk into a room and know that nearly every male head in that room is going to turn my way.
I’m the sort of woman who uses my looks and sexuality to my advantage. Why am I suddenly acting as if I”m Cindy? Why am I acting as if I don”t know just how gorgeous I am? This is how Matteo messes with my head. This is why it might not be the best idea for me to go on a date with him.
He is an extremely charismatic and handsome man, but that”s not what has me tripping over my words and second guessing my outfit. No, it”s the way he treated me before, when we were young. It’s all the things that happened in the past. I realize with an absolute jolt of understanding that Matteo Mancini is one of the few people in my life that I have allowed to upset me. He”s on a short list, which basically includes my parents and my brother. Anyone else who made me feel this confused, I simply would have cut out of my life. I’d turn my back on them and not think about them again. It’s how I deal.
This is not about anything other than getting my revenge and having some damn hot sex while doing it.
Is it really worth all this worry for some hot sex, Renata? I ask myself.
“The answer to that would be an absolute yes,” the deep voice says, making me jump.
I turn around to see an incredibly handsome man standing by me, leaning over the balcony and looking down at the walkway below.
Oh my God. I spoke that stupid thought aloud. Fuck my life. Worse, this man clearly heard every word.
“You must think I”m completely crazy,” I say.
“Not at all.” He gives me a devastating grin. “I talk to myself all the time. Maybe not at the mall,” he says with another twitch of his lips, “but definitely around the house. Anyway, in answer to the question that you asked, even though you clearly were not asking me, yes, it would be worth it.”
“You”re a man; of course you”re going to say that.” I toss him a smile and don”t miss the way his gaze rakes expertly and quickly over my figure. He”s not one of those creepy guys who leer, but he manages to take me in with one quick flick of those intense green eyes of his.
“I”m David Reese,” he says as he holds out his hand.
I offer him my hand in return. “Renata,” I say. I don”t give him my last name. I never give anyone my last name. Not until I get to know them a little better.
He takes something out of his pocket. The brown leather stamped with a designer logo creaks as he opens it. New leather, I think. He hasn”t had it long. He opens the wallet and pulls a thick, embossed card from inside. Holding it between two fingers, he offers it to me.
“In case the sex that”s maybe going to be worth all this worry doesn”t turn out to be as good as you hope.” He gives me another wicked grin, and I realize he has dimples. “If it turns out to be a disappointment, give me a call.”
Wow, he’s bold.
I don”t take the card, and he gives a small shrug of those broad shoulders and leaves it on the balcony next to me, tapping it once with his index finger and then giving me a quick smile as he walks away. I watch him go, and once he”s disappeared around the corner, I reach for the card and slip it into my bag. I have no intention of calling him, but it does a girl’s ego good.
Friday isn’t making me as nervous now. There are plenty more fish in the sea. Incredibly handsome fish named David. I’m determined to keep my emotions out of this situation with Matteo.
Use him. Fuck him. Enjoy him. Then ruin his life; that’s the order of events.