Chapter Eleven
Lorena
“You’re awfully quiet today,” Josie says behind me as she kneads pasta dough on the countertop.
A sigh escapes my lips. “I’m fine, Josie,” I say, trying my best to sound convincing.
But Josie, perceptive as ever, isn't buying it. She scoffs, and I can practically feel her skeptical gaze. “I can see right through you, Lorena. Want me to take a guess?” she teases.
I inwardly snort. The chances of her knowing what bothers me are close to zero. My fingers glide over the smooth skin of the large octopus I’m currently washing in the sink. “Sure, humor me,” I reply.
“I'm guessing it's boy trouble,” she says, a smirk playing on her lips.
I inwardly snort, surprised yet not entirely shocked that she's onto me.
My reason for not sleeping early last night was because of Leo. His gaze had stirred something inside me, confirming feelings I hadn't fully acknowledged.
If I had doubts about what my body felt for him, last night was a confirmation. The look in his eyes when our eyes met was intense. Despite the worries that plagued my mind, I couldn’t look away from him. We had stared at each other for what felt like hours, even though it was only for a few seconds. And when I retired to my room, I totally forgot what had taken me outside in the first place. The only thing I could think about was what the look in Leo’s eyes meant, wondering how long he had been standing there, watching me.
Josie leans back and looks at me with a gleam in her eyes. “I knew it,” she chuckles to herself.
I roll my eyes again, focusing on rinsing the octopus thoroughly under the cold water. One of the ‘unique’ additions Leo made to the menu after the debacle with his sister was Polpo alla Luciana, a delicious Italian dish made with tender octopus cooked in a flavorful tomato sauce. It's served with spaghetti and has a rich and satisfying taste.
“You don’t know everything, Josie,” I retort, trying to steer the conversation away from my personal life.
Ignoring the dough she was working on, Josie fixes me with an intense gaze. Then, with exaggerated drama, she gasps. “Are you pregnant?”
Hilda and Blanco, who have been arguing about something since we started making lunch, immediately turn to look at me.
“Lorena is pregnant?” Hilda gasps.
“I am not pregnant!” I say in a sound between a groan and a laugh.“No, no, not even close. Josie's just being Josie. And if you don’t believe me, then bring me some wine and watch me drink it to the last drop.”
“So dramatic, and for what?” Blanco scowls at Josie before placing a large pot on the stove, ready to prepare the tomato sauce. He goes to grab a bottle of olive oil while Hilda resumes chopping onions and garlic. After that, she slices the plump tomatoes with precision and care.
“Well, thank goodness for that. You're way too hot to be tied down like that,” Josie muses, earning a genuine laugh from me.
Once the octopus is cleansed, it is time to move to the next step. I take charge and begin the tenderizing process. I massage the octopus by pounding and stretching against its hard surface until the flesh becomes tender and succulent.
“Speaking of hotness,” Hilda clears her throat, her eyes darting around to check if anyone is coming. “Have you heard that Sinz Swing is recruiting?”
“Nobody is sure about that yet,” Blanco murmurs as he joins Josie in preparing the spaghetti.
“I got the information from my friend. Her sister works there…”
“What is Sinz Swing ? And why are you guys whispering about it?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.
“You haven’t heard about Sinz Swing ?” Hilda looks shocked, like I’d just said something horrendous.
“Obviously, she hasn’t,” Josie replies, before turning to me.
“ Sinz Swing is a notorious sex club that the elites all over Italy attend. It’s owned by one of Don’s friends, and it’s the most popular sex club here in the south,” Josie explains.
She said sex club, not nightclub. My mind runs as I imagine the kind of events that would go on there. As if she could hear my thoughts, Hilda starts speaking again.
“The illicit things that happen there…” She shudders. “Orgies, threesomes, role play, voyeurism, you name it.”
I gulp, suddenly feeling hot. I imagine Leo participating in all these activities and… I don’t even want to think about it. “And how do you know all these things?” I ask casually.
I don’t want to seem too interested in the conversation, even though my body is suddenly alight with heat, and it’s not from the stove I’m currently standing close to.
I shouldn’t be concerned with this, but if Leo’s friend owns the place, then he should be a frequent visitor too. It makes me wonder about the sexual acts he participates in.
“Like I said, my friend’s sister works there. Also, Don and his friends host orgies in their houses…”
“He hosts orgies here ? There’s a fucking teenager in this house!” I say, horrified.
Josie chuckles. “It’s not like that.” Then she lowers her voice to a whisper. “Don has a playroom where he takes his guests. It’s soundproofed and completely out of bounds to everyone else in the house. I have worked here for three years, and I don’t even know where the room is…”
“I think it’s in the same area as his office. He has a private elevator he uses to access that area of the house,” Blanco adds. “Nina is the only one who has been there.”
A shiver rolls through my body as I pour the chopped onions and garlic into the glimmering pot of golden olive oil. It makes a loud sizzling sound, and a pleasant aroma fills the air.
As the conversation continues, I’m taken back to the first time I saw Leo. I haven’t forgotten how he thrust into the maid from behind, his hips rocking in a pleasant rhythm, and the way she moaned in pleasure. It’s embarrassing, the way I got aroused just from watching them, watching the way he fucked her. And when his eyes met mine, full of lust and desire, it made me think of other things, things like his hands running down my body, his dick slipping in and out of me.
Shit! I can’t believe I’m getting wet right now.
Exhaling a shaky breath, I add the sliced tomatoes to the pot, a pinch of salt, a sprinkle of red pepper flakes, and a handful of pitted olives.
“I would have applied to be recruited if I had the looks,” Hilda muses, making Blanco burst out in laughter.
“Sorry, Hilda. Even if you had the looks, you still wouldn’t get in,” he snorts.
Everyone except Hilda laughs. Even I can’t help the chuckle that escapes my lips. “Don’t be like that, Blanco,” I say. “Hilda is pretty.”
“Thank you, Lorena. You are my only friend in this house…” Hilda starts to say, but Blanco interrupts her.
“That’s exactly my point. It’s not just about looks. You have to own the look, you have to be fucking sexy, you have to act and not just look the part,” he tells a red-faced Hilda.
“Like Lorena,” Josie pipes in.
I erupt into a fit of coughs. “What?”
“Exactly,” Blanco agrees with a smile. “In fact, I think you should sign up…”
“Hell no,” I chuckle, brushing him off.
I turn my attention back to the simmering sauce and the flavors melding together. I do a taste test. Nodding in approval, I turn to the tenderized octopus. Hilda comes to stand beside me, and together, we place each cut tentacle into the simmering sauce, ensuring they are fully engulfed in the thickening liquid. When the octopus is fully immersed, I place the lid on top of the pot.
While the octopus slowly cooks, Josie begins to prepare spaghetti. In a separate pot of boiling water, she cooks the raw dough strands, allowing each strand to retain its firmness. Once drained, she pours the now ready spaghetti into a separate pot of simmering sauce.
In a few minutes, the meal is done. With great care and attention to detail, I plate the food. The spaghetti forms a bed for the tender octopus. I sprinkle some freshly chopped parsley to add vibrancy, with a drizzle of olive oil for a final touch.
I stay behind in the kitchen, eating my own food as the Vitale are served. After lunch, I clean up before going up to my room.
Tiredness overtakes my features as I enter the bathroom to take a shower. I still have three hours before I have to start making dinner, so I decide to take a nap. With the events of the past few days, a midday nap is highly needed.
I distract myself by humming a song so that I won’t think about Josie’s absurd suggestion.
Me? Sign up to be a performer in the Sinz Swin ? I snort inwardly.
I refuse to think about how my body seems to agree with the idea. I have had sex, but I’m quite innocent when it comes to unconventional sexual acts.
I wrap my body in a fluffy towel before stepping out of the bathroom. Then, I change into a baggy T-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts. A deep sigh escapes my lips as I collapse onto my bed.
My lack of sleep from last night and all the work I’ve done today hits me, and in no time, my eyes begin to drift shut.
********
There is blood everywhere.
Blood on my trembling hands, soaking my clothes, seeping into the cracks on the concrete floor. The smell of iron and sweat lingers in the air around me. My lungs are burning from lack of oxygen, and I feel lightheaded as though I will die anytime soon.
My parents are already dead. I look at their bodies again, lying lifeless on the ground, with holes in their heads. A pool of blood has formed beneath them, the same blood that slowly trails towards me and my sister, the same blood that stains my blue jeans, turning them into a dark grey color.
I remain silent, lying silently beside my parent’s bodies. Isabella, my sister, trembles beside me, her sobs echoing in the suffocating silence. I stare at the man who just shot my parents, as he approaches us with a teenage boy. Although I can’t really see their faces, I watch their legs come into my line of view.
“Here you go, son,” the older man's voice is cold as he passes the gun to his young companion. The room is dark. I can’t look at them properly because they think I’m dead.
“The younger girl is dead, I saved the last kill for you,” the man's words are like ice, sending shivers down my spine.
Isabella whimpers beside me. I shut my eyes tightly, wishing I could disappear, wishing they could kill me too.
“End her,” the command is sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife.
Moments pass as the room remains quiet, perhaps the young boy is hesitating. But then I hear the bang. He did it. The teenage boy shot my sister.
The deafening roar of the gunshot shatters the stillness of the room, signaling the end of the life I’d always known and the beginning of my new living nightmare.