Chapter 1 #3
A few minutes after nine, I heard a knock at the door. When I opened it, I was struck by how good Baco looked. He was wearing black jeans and a white shirt and really looked very handsome.
“I won’t invite you in because I’m already ready,” I said, as I stepped out and closed the door.
“Let me tell you that you look beautiful,” he complimented.
“Thank you, you look handsome too.”
“If you want, we can reconsider this friendship thing,” he suggested, with that smile that was made to charm.
“Don’t start or we’ll cancel the outing,” I warned.
“Alright, let’s stick with the friendship plans,” he said, rolling his eyes but still smiling.
“Do you feel like walking? The place I mentioned isn’t far from here and the night is beautiful, ideal for walking along the promenade.”
“As you said, a very romantic night.”
I gave him another serious look and he couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“It’s just a little joke, I love it when you get defensive.”
As we walked, we talked a lot about me. He asked about my family, my work, and especially about the things I liked to do.
When we arrived at “Napoletana,” we were assigned a table on the large terrace and ordered the small pizza I suggested and a couple of beers.
At that moment, “Blinding Lights” by The Weeknd was playing.
“Tell me a bit about yourself.”
“What do you want to know?” he asked, as he brought the bottle to his mouth for a long sip of beer.
“What do you do? What’s your job?”
“Starting with the thorny subject,” he said, while I looked at him with surprise and he sighed as if gathering strength to begin.
“I work in the family business, which my older brother is in charge of. It’s an international company dedicated to construction.
As I said, it’s run by my brother, but I’m also obligated to work there. ”
“Obligated?”
“This will be our first secret,” he said, and it was the first time since I’d met him that his gaze seemed to sadden.
“I work there because I have no choice. My brother doesn’t approve of me doing anything else.
He took charge when my father died and believes we both should dedicate ourselves to the family business.
It’s not my thing, but I can’t say I’m doing terribly either. ”
“Does your brother know you don’t like it?”
“I’ve tried talking to him several times, but he doesn’t even let me finish explaining. For him, the family business is his life, and I’m supposed to feel the same way. My mother supports him, so I don’t have a chance, beautiful.”
“But that’s not right. They shouldn’t force you. Would you like to do something else?”
“You’re the first person who’s asked me that. Everyone I know just assumes I’m happy with what I do. I have to admit that working in my family’s company would be many people’s dream, but not mine.”
“May I know what you’d like to do?” I asked cautiously.
He looked at me with distrust, then leaned back in his chair and sighed again.
“The music in this place is really good,” he commented, changing the subject drastically. At that moment, “Safe and Sound” by Capital Cities was playing. Then he sighed and added, “That’s another one of my secrets.”
“Don’t worry, I don’t mind if you don’t answer.”
“I’d like to make a living from my paintings,” he stated without hesitation.
“You’re a painter?”
“Why are you surprised?”
“I’m not surprised, I think it’s great. Do you have many works?”
“Quite a few. I’ll show them to you someday.”
“I’d love that.”
“It’s been a long time since I talked about this.
I’m starting to think you’re right that having a friend to confide in can be good too.
I don’t know if it’s as good as sex, but it’s definitely pleasurable,” he joked, abandoning his serious face to light up his features again with that captivating smile.
At that moment, the waiter arrived at our table with the exquisite small pizza we had ordered, so I couldn’t respond to his comment. I just looked at him with furrowed brows, and he widened his smile.
“Tell me about your family,” I requested, since on our walk we had talked almost entirely about me.
“I’ve already told you some things. My brother runs the company, my mother spends a lot of the money he makes, and I work at that company with zero motivation. My family has a lot of money, more than they need for this life and the next.”
“How old is your brother?”
“He’s 38, but he seems like he’s 60. I can’t remember the last time I saw him smile or have fun. He’s a serious guy who lives in the company, or rather, lives for the company.”
“How old are you, Baco?” I asked curiously, because he seemed quite a bit younger than his brother.
“I know why you’re asking. You see me as young and cheerful, nothing like how I just described Hermes. Well, that’s right—we’re complete opposites in personality, though physically we look quite similar. Hermes is 10 years older than me; I’m 28.”
“Is he married?”
“No, he’s not. He could be, but... actually, I assure you if he wanted to be, he would be. My brother is considered the most eligible bachelor in the city, or even the entire country,” he stated, but it seemed like he was about to tell me something and then changed his mind.
“Why? Because he has money? That’s silly.”
“Not just because of that. The guy is a total sex symbol. Didn’t I just tell you he looks like me? Though I’m more handsome,” he joked, batting his eyelashes.
“You’re such a clown!”
“But a sexy one,” he clarified.
“And your brother, he doesn’t have a partner either? I ask because if he had someone in his life, maybe he’d be less strict. I mean, someone he was in love with.”
Baco laughed cynically.
“Hermes in love? If you knew him, you wouldn’t say such a ridiculous thing.
My brother is completely closed off to love; he has no interest in being in love again.
He’s one of those people who’s closed off to love and anything related to feelings—he despises them.
He only has his ‘friends’ to accompany him to social events where he needs to bring someone, and for mutual satisfaction, or in other words, to take to bed,” he said, making air quotes with his fingers to indicate they were more than friends.
I didn’t miss that he said “being in love again,” which made me assume his brother must have suffered some kind of heartbreak. At that moment, his phone rang and he picked it up.
“Look, it’s ‘Mr. Cheerful’ calling right now,” he said, showing me the phone with his brother’s name on the screen, but he left it on the table and didn’t answer it.
“Aren’t you going to answer it?” I asked curiously.
“Right now I’m enjoying this moment with you. I don’t want him to ruin it with his lectures, demands, or orders. Shall we dance? The atmosphere here is great, and so is the food. I congratulate you on your choice—I hadn’t been here before,” he commented.
“I’ve been here several times and we’ve always left satisfied. Regarding your proposal, I accept, let’s go dance.”
We reached the dance floor and at that moment “Bad Habits” by Ed Sheeran was playing.
Baco took my hand and began moving to the rhythm of the music; he was quite the dancer.
When “My Universe” by Coldplay and BTS started, his movements became faster, but he danced impeccably—it was obvious he had vast experience.
We danced a few more songs and decided to return to the table to refresh ourselves.
We stayed a while longer, but when the place began to fill with people and you could barely talk, we decided to leave.
We were walking along the promenade, relaxed and chatting about my work, our friends, and even our hobbies.
He was passionate about soccer and played every week with his friends; I did a lot of gymnastics and swimming, and occasionally played tennis.
We arrived at our apartments convinced that we had thoroughly enjoyed each other’s company.
“Thank you, beautiful, I had so much fun, truly it’s been a long time since I’ve had such a relaxed and cheerful night. We’ll do it again, right?”
“Of course, whenever you want.”
“Well, I’m going to my apartment... but don’t close the door because I’m going to get something I want to show you and I’ll be right back. I’m not inviting you to mine because it’s a mess,” he said.
“What do you want to show me?” I asked, curious.
“I want you to give me your opinion on one of my paintings.”
“Yesssss, I’d love to! I’ll wait for you here,” I said enthusiastically. “Would you like me to make coffee?”
“Yesssss,” he replied, mocking my effusiveness and heading toward the door.
I went to the kitchen, which had an American-style bar and was integrated with the living room, and while I was preparing the coffee maker, I heard Baco returning.
“I’m in the kitchen making coffee,” I called out.
“Who are you? And where is my brother supposed to be?” asked a voice that wasn’t Baco’s.
This was a deep and serious voice, an authoritative voice that conveyed power, but was tremendously sensual.
A voice that, without knowing it at that moment, would turn my world upside down and completely dismantle it.