Chapter 7
SEVEN
Eliza
When I wake it's already bright outside. Adriano stands at the doors to the balcony, already dressed in black pants and a crisp white shirt that looks incredible against his lightly tanned skin.
He has his phone in his hand but he isn't looking at it. His focus is on something outside. He's so incredibly still it's hard to tell if he's lost in thought or trying not to move in case he disturbs his prey.
I lie in bed for a moment and look at the back of his head. Images from last night pop into my head but I can't process what letting him fuck me repeatedly means until I've had some coffee.
Adriano turns and catches me gawping at him. I feel my cheeks heat. This man has the ability to make me feel like a simpering schoolgirl. Not even Gabriele had this effect on me and he was way more worldly than I was when we dated.
It's a bizarre thing to admit but despite me being with Gabriele for several months I never wanted to impress him as much as I do Adriano.
As usual, Adriano's face gives nothing away. Either I rocked his world last night or it was just another fuck as far as he's concerned. It's hard to tell.
Over the last few years I’ve learned to read people fast. I can’t seem to get a handle on Adriano and that makes him dangerous.
Sitting up, I use the sheet to cover my breasts. He's seen every inch of me but in the cold light of day I'm suddenly shy.
"I'm taking you shopping," he announces. "Get dressed."
"In what?"
All of the clothes he had brought over from my Edinburgh apartment are casual. Jeans, t-shirts and sneakers were ideal for moving around without being noticed but I suspect they're all wrong for wherever he intends to take me.
"Whatever you've got will do for now."
I get up, dragging the sheet off the bed with me and ignore Adriano's chuckle at my attempt at modesty. While my front is covered, my ass is still catching a breeze.
I walk into the dressing room and look at my clothes hanging on the rails as if they belong anywhere near such fancy brushed chrome fittings.
I head into the bathroom and close the door.
Leaning back against it I breathe in deeply.
There haven't been many morning afters in my life and I don't quite know how to cope with it.
I'd like to know where I stand with Adriano but I doubt he's up for a deep and meaningful dissection of our feelings.
In any other situation being unsure of my place would be uncomfortable. Here it could be fatal.
Figuring I don't have time for a shower, I wash my face in the sink and run a cloth over my body. A whore's wash. Isn't that what they call it? It feels appropriate right now.
I dress in dark blue jeans and a black t-shirt. Then I find an elastic band and pull my hair back into a ponytail. Whoever packed my things in Edinburgh missed my brush so Adriano will just have to take me with tangled hair.
When I emerge from the bathroom, he's no longer in the bedroom but the door is open. I find him in the corridor, leaning against the wall. He doesn't comment on my appearance though there is a slight pursing of his lips.
Clearly my outfit doesn’t reach his high standards. He turns and walks away. I follow because apparently I've become his faithful lapdog.
The drive into Rome takes fifteen minutes but traffic as we hit the city center adds another forty to our journey.
Adriano is not a patient driver. He blasts his horn and yells insults at anyone who's too slow at traffic lights or cuts in front of us or dares to weave in and out of the gridlocked cars on a moped. This man has killed people and here he is yelling at someone’s grandpa on a Vespa.
The car he took from a garage filled with vehicles is a low slung sportscar. It's sleek, modern and highly impractical. I don't remark on it but I've always found those doors that open up the way ridiculous.
It's surprisingly comfortable on the inside. The seats are like leather-clad clouds and I’m guessing it makes a great getaway vehicle, though it’s a bit too conspicuous to take on a heist. He probably uses his black SUV for that.
Adriano parks like an asshole in a no-parking zone near the Prati district and leads me to a shop on a quiet street. The frontage is discreet with a dark wooden door. There are no displays in the window but I catch a glimpse of rails of clothing inside.
This is the sort of place that doesn't advertise. You have to be someone important to know it's here.
Inside, it's more impressive than it appears from the street.
The ceilings are high. The walls are painted in an off-white that warms the place without detracting from the colors of the clothing on the rails.
There are pale limestone tiles on the floor and the lighting is soft.
There's a hint of something floral in the air.
If I wasn't with Adriano, I'm sure I'd be thrown out.
A woman appears from the back. In her mid-forties, she's immaculately dressed.
Her dark hair is poker straight and her make-up flawless.
Her eyes move over me taking in the impoverished waitress outfit and tangled hair.
She probably figures out my whole life with one glance.
Her expression conveys something that might be sympathy then she turns away.
"Adriano!" she greets him effusively. "Is that shirt from Massimo's spring collection?"
I have no idea who Massimo is or how she imagines she can distinguish Adriano's plain white shirt from any other but I don't intend to display my ignorance by asking. If Miranda Priestly taught me anything it's that fashion is not for the faint-hearted.
"Yes, Clara, it is." Adriano greets her with a kiss on each cheek. "You have a good eye."
"And you'd like me to turn it to dressing your companion is that right?"
"She needs a full wardrobe," Adriano says as if I'm not standing next to him. "Day clothes, lingerie, evening dresses. She'll need to look the part."
"What part?" I turn to glare at him. "The part of your dress up doll."
"Excuse my companion," Adriano says. I wish people would stop using that word. It's like a tamer version of concubine. "She has an odd sense of humor."
And no sense of self-preservation, the cutting look he sends me says.
Clara smiles and grabs my shoulders, positioning me in the center of the room as Adriano takes a seat on the sofa by the far wall.
"You stand right here, Signorina, and we'll begin."
While she flits around the room, gathering clothes, I stay put. Adriano busies himself with his phone.
Clara brings day clothes first. I hate to admit it but she has an incredible eye. She picks out slim-fitting trousers in a variety of colors, blouses, shirts, jeans. A couple of jackets follow. Then she selects some shoes.
"Do I need to try these on?" I ask.
"Pfft!" she scoffs. "Do you think I walked into this job yesterday? They'll fit."
"Trust Clara," Adriano says as he gets to his feet to answer a call. "She knows what she's doing."
He greets someone called Timofey in English and goes outside to speak privately. I guess whatever he has to say is not for the ears of potential witnesses in some future trial.
"Do I really need all this?" I ask Clara as she brings yet more clothing for me.
"Adriano said you need everything so that's what you'll get."
When she starts to bring evening dresses I feel a flutter of excitement. In a variety of luxurious fabrics and an array of colors, they're stunning. Clara lays them out on the back of the sofa for me to look at.
"They're all so beautiful," I say. "How will I choose."
"Try on the green one," Adriano says as he strolls back into the store.
It's a command I'm happy to obey. I follow Clara as she takes the dress to the fitting room and pulls back a velvet curtain for me to change behind. I strip off my clothes and put on the silk dress. It fits as if it was made for me.
I turn one way and then the other, checking myself in the mirror, wondering how a mere slip of fabric can make me feel like a different person.
Even with my rats nest hair, I look incredible, almost as if I belong in Adriano’s world. I’ve been in it before, of course, with Gabriele. I’m not sure how I feel about entering it again with a man far more lethal.
As I emerge from behind the curtain, Clara claps her hands together. Her enthusiastic response gains Adriano's attention. He gets up from the sofa and comes to see what the fuss is about.
When he sees me something crosses his face. It's only there for a second before he covers it again but it was enough for me to know this dress is a winner.
"We'll take it," he says.
"Where would I be going in this?" I ask.
He looks at me steadily but doesn't answer. "Now try the blue one."
I hold his gaze for a moment. Then realizing I'll never win a staring contest against such an intense man, I lower my eyes. I return to the fitting room and try the blue silk. The color of the Adriatic on a summer's day, it too fits perfectly. I think I love it even more than the green.
Adriano's reaction to the dress is the same as to the first. There's a flicker of approval and then he tells Clara we'll take it.
"Go change, Signorina," the assistant tells me. "I'll fetch shoes."
If I thought I was going to be selecting shoes I was wrong. Adriano takes over completely, saying yes to some pairs and vetoing others as Clara brings the entire stock for his appraisal.
He turns down a pair of exquisite heels and glares at me, daring me to object. If the man conducts his business the way he buys shoes, he must be unstoppable.
We spend another hour at the boutique. Adriano insists on taking no fewer than a dozen evening gowns as well as all of the daytime clothing Clara showed me. There are also shoes for every occasion.
"Where am I supposed to wear these dresses?" I grumble as he hands his credit card over to Clara.
"Events."
"What events, Adriano? It's not as if…"
His glare shuts down whatever I was going to say. I realize then I've made a big mistake by questioning him in front of Clara. Tension radiates from him and I know I’ll be paying for this later.
"Have everything packed up and ready within the hour." Adriano sets Clara a seemingly impossible task. "I'll send someone to pick it all up."
"Of course, Adriano." Clara comes to open the door for us. "It was a pleasure doing business with you again."
As we walk back to the car, a woman passes us with a small dog.
A scooter zips down the street and a man jogs by.
I wonder what they think when they look at us.
Do they imagine Adriano and I are a couple?
If they do, they probably wonder how such an immaculately dressed man ended up with a wreck like me.
It occurs to me that I could stop any one of these people and tell them I’m being held against my will. That would probably go badly and I don’t want to be the cause of a stranger getting hurt. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
"Why the dresses?" I ask again as we reach the car.
Adriano opens the passenger door for me and waits.
"Adriano, why did you buy me all those dresses?"
His jaw tightens. "Get in the car."
I do as I'm told. Adriano gets back into the driver's seat and switches on the engine.
I bought you the dresses because you'll need them if you're going to be my woman.
That brings me up short. His woman. When did he decide that and more importantly, how do I feel about it? The honest answer is too disturbing to contemplate since I’ve known him for such a short time. So I bury it along with any thoughts of escaping this world I’ve been dragged back into.