11. Renata
When Matteo first leaves,I sit at the table and consider nibbling on some more food as he suggested. However, I”m aware that I”ve gained a few pounds the last week or two, and I don”t want to get fat. My mother may have annoyed me with her constant nagging about my figure, but it”s left an indelible mark in my mind. The minute I gain a few pounds over the highest weight at which I can still look good, I begin to panic.
I”ll never be super skinny, the way that my mother would like. I”m not putting myself through the pain and denial that I would need to do so. I”m confident in my skin, which probably drove her crazy. It still doesn”t mean that her words haven”t affected me. I love to eat, and I don”t deny myself, but once I reach my current weight, I slow down.
I”ll take a week or two where I aggressively monitor my food choices, and once the weight has fallen off a bit, I’ll continue to enjoy myself. It”s a yoyo kind of existence, I suppose, but the fact that I never allow myself to truly gain too much weight means that I don”t have to go on a strict diet for a long period of time.
Leaving the food, I grab my champagne glass and walk to the door. I peek out into the hallway and as Matteo said, there is nobody around.
He gave me a tour of the house the other day, but he didn”t show me everything. It feels strange to go poking around in his home when he”s not here, but the urge is riding me hard. He did suggest it, and so that makes me feel a little better about my decision.
A movie doesn”t appeal right now, and a bath after eating will just give me stomach-ache.
Explore it is then, I say to myself.
After all, he invited me to do so.
I decide to take a quick look around upstairs first. I saw the family bathroom, his bedroom, and the attached bath. I didn”t see any of the other rooms, though. I”m curious as to what his old room looks like now. We spent time in there whenever his father and uncle were out and we could sneak some alone time. I wonder if he still has the same sports posters on the walls. Probably not.
When I reach the top of the stairs, I follow the hallway to what used to be his room and pause outside. I put my hand on the door and get the strongest sense of DeJa’Vu. For a moment it”s as if I”m back in my teenage body, and I will open the door and find a younger Matteo in there, waiting for me.
Dani California or something by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers would be playing, whereas I preferred Kelly Clarkson back then. His room would smell of his aftershave and feel full of hope. My room smelt of Happy by Clinique but felt heavy at times with despair.
I loved coming here once upon a time. Now, here I am again.
I push open the door, my heart picking up speed. Instead of a memory box, I find myself looking into a generic guest room. At first disappointment hits me, but then really follows swift on its heels. I don”t think I was ready to see the room as it used to be. It would be too much of a head fuck.
I wander into the room and head over to the dresser, taking a look at the ornaments placed there. They are rather beautiful, but they aren”t Matteo’s taste. It”s as if he”s living in a show home, and somehow that hurts my feelings for him. It”s stupid for me to care when he clearly doesn”t, but this place is like a rental that he’s stuck in permanently.
Bored of this nicely decorated but soulless guest room, I explore the other rooms. When I get to the room that used to be Matteo’s sisters, I push it open and am surprised to see that it still has much of her stuff in there. I wonder if she likes to come home and have her room as it was. I can”t imagine anything worse than still having my teenage room preserved for me at my parents’ home.
There’s an array of perfume on the dresser. Some makeup scattered around by the mirror too. It seems as if she may come home often. I lift the lid off a couple of the bottles and inhale. One of them is gorgeous, and I photograph the bottle so I look for it the next time I’m at the mall.
Knowing that I am overstepping by being far too nosy, I open the closet door. There”s only a few outfits hanging in here, certainly not enough for someone to use every day. Most of the clothes seem rather formal, and I wonder if she only comes back here now and again for certain events. Maybe that”s why there”s the perfume and makeup.
There”s a small, narrow staircase that leads to a top floor, which used to house a converted loft space. I head up there next, and find a huge gym. Of course, there”s no space in the garage for a gym because it”s full of Matteo’s flashy cars, so I suppose this is the only place in the house for it. It”s a massive space, and he has some high-end equipment.
There is a small gym in the basement of my apartment building, but it”s not very big at all, and it always smells of sweat, which puts me off. There’s always some big guy in there too, grunting and groaning as he lifts weights too heavy for him to maintain his form while doing so. I wonder if Matteo does that, or if he’s sensible and sticks to weights he can lift safely. He doesn”t strike me as the sort of insecure guy who would lift things beyond his ability. Although he has some very expensive cars, and a fair few sporty ones, none of them are very flashy. With the kind of money he has, he could easily affordable a Bugatti or a Lamborghini but neither take up space in his garage. In fact, most of the sports cars are classics, and vintage machines. I like that. I can’t stand the kind of insecurity it takes to drive a brand new Lambo.
This house is discreet and tasteful now. His car collection is clearly about what he likes, not what he thinks will impress. I head down to his room and nosy through his closet. Yes, as I thought, lots of expensive clothing made with beautiful fabrics, but none of it screams designer. There are no labels, no logos. He’s a man confident in who he is and his place in the world. Did that come about since his family supposedly became more legitimate? I wonder what it must be like to carry such confidence.
Everyone thinks I do. Nico, my father, and even my mother believe that I am a supremely confident woman. Anyone meeting me for the first time absolutely believes that. I”ve been told many times that my confidence makes me intimidating. Deep down, though, underneath that veneer, there is nothing but an insecure young girl.
I know I”m beautiful, but what does that matter truly? Beauty fades. Always. I”m getting older now, and I can see the ageing process begin on my features. Beauty means nothing ultimately, because in the end it is only fleeting. What else do I have in my life? I don”t have a job , and I don”t have any amazing skills. My friendship group is incredibly small, and my family isn’t the loving kind that make you feel warm and welcome. What do I have underneath this surface?
Some days I don”t know who I am. I”ve spent so long wanting nothing more than to be recognized by my blood that I don”t know what I actually want for myself anymore. The realization is a heavy one. I”ve spent years relishing being a thorn in the side of my family, and where has it got me?
I live alone in an apartment building, and I go to the gym most days, and I go to the mall once or twice a week, and the rest of the time I tend to be lonely and bored unless I’m seeing Jilly or chatting with Carol.
Sick of my internal pity show, I close the closet and head downstairs, grabbing my glass of champagne from where I left it on the windowsill. I think I might go into the den to watch a movie, but as I approach it, I realize the door to the study is wide open.
I pause and look at that tempting invitation.
I”m sure that Matteo’s instructions to explore, if I so wish to, did not include his private study. Yet, he did tell me to explore, and he has left the door open. Surely, it”s his fault if I go in there and I”m not supposed to be? How am I supposed to know what parts of the house are out of bounds? Especially if the door is ajar and practically inviting people to step over the threshold.
This is going to be easier than I thought. Mamma wanted me to find out information if I could, and here I am on the precipice of his private business space.
I walk into the room and realize immediately that this is the one space that might truly be Matteo’s. We came in here a couple of times when I was a teenager, and it was all heavy oak, walnut inlay desks, and creaking old green leather chairs. It”s an entirely different space now, and it doesn”t match the rest of the house.
The far wall, which the desk stands in front of, is painted a dark teal. The color of the wall serves to highlight the faded, worn wood of the desk in front. It’s more a giant slab of smoothed wood on top of criss-crossed legs. It looks like something found washed up on the beach and turned into a desk, but it’s undeniably cool. Behind it is a leather chair in faded tan leather. It looks comfortable and well worn. There’s a sofa in a matching shade on the wall to my right. A bookshelf and some works of abstract art on the wall finish the décor.
I notice the desk has a closed laptop on it and papers in two trays. There are also papers on the desk. I walk over and casually glance at them, but something about the words on the top paper catches my eye. Picking it up, I read it quickly, and then I take a seat on the leather sofa and read it again.
My heart sinks as I read it.
Not because of what is on the paper but because of what it means.
This innocuous piece of paper states, in quite clear and unambiguous terms, that two of the Mancini’s biggest companies are failing. In fact, it’s a chain of emails back and forth, and one of them explicitly mentions that if they can’t refinance they will be ripe for a hostile take over.
Call me na?ve, but I don’t believe for one damn second that Matteo would ever leave something sensitive like this lying around. Not for the staff to walk in and read.
The implications are heavy on my soul.
There’s a small marble shelf running along the back wall, and there are heavy crystal glasses and decanters on it. I make myself a straight up scotch, then return to the leather sofa.
I tap my lips as I think. Firstly, there’s the handy relative ensconced within Mamma and Babbo’s house. She allegedly hates her family and is happily feeding information to their greatest enemies. Then there’s the fact that he dines alone every week at a place where I could easily go meet him.
Let’s not forget that my family told me to go there, no doubt egged on by the helpful Angela in that plan.
Once all of that is nicely set up, he sets about seducing me and brings me to his home.
Finally, he goes out, on a supposed emergency, leaving me here with the papers showing that a part of his business is about to fold. Papers which were on clear display. Matteo isn’t that careless.
I’m not that fucking dumb.
This is a setup.
My heart drops. He only brought me here to set me up? Is none of it real?
What the fuck? Why would he do that?
Furthermore, if my theories are correct, then he wants me to give this information to my parents. Why?
As I think about it, I realize that I need to know what his real financial situation is and what his other companies are. I need the entire list. Right now, I”m trying to figure things out with only half the information available to me. Once I have an accurate picture of his business and financial situation, I can hopefully make a much more accurate guess as to what is going on here.
Still, I”ve seen enough that my initial suspicions are correct. This whole thing is a ruse. I’m being played in part of a setup. I”m not completely sure as to what the hell is going on, but for me and my family it can”t be anything good.
This information he wants me to give to my parents is clearly going to be harmful to them.
Maybe he believes this is his way of getting revenge on me. Make me do something to hurt my family and make me suffer. Surely, even from the little I have said, he must know that I don”t exactly have close bond with them. So I could do exactly what he wants and sit back and watch my family fuck themselves up. Is that what he wants? God, I am so confused my head is spinning. Is this about getting revenge on my family, or getting revenge on me?
Is he helping me bring them down? No.
I immediately push that na?ve idea aside. He’d tell me if he wanted to do that.
Fucking fucker. I let out an angry scream and then dial it back because I don’t want to bring his staff running. I swallow more of the amber liquid and relish the burn.
For a moment, I let my thoughts drift. I end up having a daydream about my family taking this information and acting upon it only to actually harm themselves in the process and end up bankrupt.
That would be so amusing. Imagine Nico having to come to me for help. He would hate that so much. His massive ego would have to take a real dent if he had to come cap in hand to his sister. I probably have enough money that I could support all of my family until they got back on their feet.
None of them really knew how wealthy my husband and his family were. I signed a prenup of course, but when I found out all the things he done, I simply threatened to go to the media. I had emails with photographic evidence from some of his many lovers. The scandal would have absolutely destroyed his family, and possibly reached all the way to the heads of some minor European States. So, in the end, my beloved ex-husband paid me off handsomely. I think in part because he was strongly encouraged to do so by his family. It means that I”m a very wealthy young woman in my own right.
Still not entirely sure what I”m going to do about this, but knowing I need to take a note of the information, I use my phone to take photos of the documents.
It”s going to be very tempting to use this the way Matteo has intended and get the revenge I so dearly would love upon my family. He might think I am doing it to get back at him, but this isn’t revenge on him. I know the game now, and me giving this information is knowingly poisoning the lifeblood of my family by leading them to make some very bad moves.
How to get revenge on Matteo though?
Why would he want to use me this way? Was the sex only so he could set this up? Christ, I’m insulted he thinks I’m so idiotic as to fall for this. Did he honestly think I would come in here and see these papers laid around so obviously and believe that it was all a coincidence? Does Matteo think that I”m as stupid and airheaded as the women he clearly hangs around with normally.
I need to bide my time, and formulate a plan. There’s got to be a way to turn this back on him and burn him. I ought to go home and leave him a message saying I’ve got a headache, but because I’m messed up that way, I want to fuck him even more now.
The other night he gave me the most epic sex of my life, and I know that with the added hate and adrenalin I’m feeling, it will be like screwing him while high on the world’s best drug.
I go and use the bathroom, the same one I left the picture for him in all those years ago at his party, and as I wash my hands, I know exactly how I’m going to get Matteo back.
How dare he do this to me again? How dare he use me and plan to betray me. I take that hurt, the one I get because everyone always underestimates me, uses me, and treats me like crap. Well, fuck him.
I’m going to fuck him so good that he’ll be addicted to me. I will make myself his new drug. Then when he’s utterly on the hook, and only then, I’m going to get hot and heavy with someone else in front of him. Just like I did with Duncan but worse. This time he’ll get a front row seat to the show.
I heard Matteo just about lost his mind when I screwed Duncan, so he has a jealous streak. He might not want me, but if he’s anything like he was before, he doesn’t want anyone else to have me either.
I’ll pass this information on to my family because screw them, but I’ll also make Matteo think he’s met his sexual soul mate, and then I’ll make him look like a fool, in public.
I will do it to him, but it will be for every fucking man who ever underestimated me. They’re all about to find out what happens when you treat Renata Andretti like she’s stupid.
This is just like the time I walked into his party all over again. This fucking house and the hurt that has happened to me here. Fuck them all.
My father. Nico. But most of all Matteo.
They’re going to get what they deserve, and I will walk away head high, and unscathed.