Chapter 18
Bianca Ferrucci
He wrapped his fingers around my arm tightly enough to make me lose my balance for a moment. It didn’t hurt, but the brutality of the gesture sent my mind racing with dark thoughts. Would it be like this from now on? Would I be dragged from one place to another?
As soon as we left the ballroom, he finally loosened his grip, taking a deep breath as if trying to regain control of himself. His other hand tugged impatiently at his tie, his face filled with irritation.
“Is something wrong, sir?” My voice came out so low that I could barely believe he had heard me.
He stopped abruptly and looked at me, his expression hardening even more.
“Don Tiziano. Stop calling me sir.”
“I’m sorry.” I lowered my head, not knowing what to do or say from that moment on.
He let out an even heavier sigh and, to my surprise, laughed. Not a soft laugh, but something that seemed to have been held back for a long time, as if he were laughing at his own exhaustion or frustration.
Is he crazy? I wondered as I watched him, confused and even more tense.
But then, hard punches against the wall cut off his laughter, and my body instinctively shrank back. The sound echoed through the empty hallway, and I didn’t dare ask what had made him so angry.
“I’ll call you Don Tiziano from now on.” My voice came out unsteady, and he glanced at me from the corner of his eye as if assessing me.
“Come. The helicopter is waiting for us.”
He composed himself with astonishing speed, taking my hand and guiding me toward a field where the aircraft was already prepared.
The sound of the rotors was deafening, but we didn’t exchange a single word.
His silence felt more comfortable than any attempt at conversation, so I settled for watching the landscape below us.
As soon as we landed, he got out first and offered me his hand to help me down. He didn’t look me in the eyes, but the gesture was considerate, even if mechanical.
“Where are we?” I asked hesitantly. I still didn’t know whether I could ask so many questions without irritating him again.
“Sardinia. We’ll stay here for three days. Long enough to get everyone off my back.”
I nodded silently, realizing his irritation seemed to be directed at the entire world, not necessarily at me.
The property was magnificent. The mansion, isolated on a hillside, overlooked crystal-clear waters and was surrounded by perfectly manicured gardens.
The windows were enormous, allowing the golden light of sunset to flood the hallways.
Every detail seemed designed to impress, but to me, everything felt oppressive.
“Are you hungry?” he asked as we crossed the living room toward the kitchen.
Before I could answer, I noticed the absolute silence inside the house. There wasn’t a single soul around, and it made me uneasy.
“We’re not alone. I just didn’t tell anyone we were coming.” His direct response sounded like a command for me to stop worrying.
A few minutes later, the kitchen began filling with staff. They greeted him with a combination of respect and fear.
“Prepare something to eat. My wife must be hungry. And so am I,” he ordered, his tone dry and authoritative.
“Right away, Don,” replied an older woman with impeccable posture and gray hair pulled into a tight bun.
Without another word, Tiziano left the kitchen, and I followed him upstairs. He opened a massive set of double doors, revealing a bedroom that looked as though it belonged in a palace.
The high ceiling was decorated with gold molding, and a crystal chandelier hung in the center, casting soft reflections against the cream-colored walls.
The bed, covered in silk sheets, looked large enough to fit an entire family.
A Persian rug stretched across the floor, and the heavy velvet curtains gave the room an air of royalty.
“Take off that dress and shower,” he ordered in a dry tone, casting me a brief glance.
I nodded silently, my eyes fixed on the floor. Apparently, being his wife meant exactly this: he gave orders, and I obeyed.
When I came out of the bathroom wearing a comfortable, elegant dress they had left for me, the first thing I heard was Tiziano’s voice.
He seemed to be giving someone orders over the phone.
I followed the sound until I found where it was coming from.
He was on the bedroom balcony, or rather, what looked more like a terrace.
The space was enormous, and in the center stood a massive table covered with an assortment of food that looked like something from a royal feast. Fresh fruit arranged in silver bowls, golden soft breads, assorted cheeses, delicately sliced meats, and desserts so perfect they looked as though they belonged in a display case.
The smell was delicious and made my stomach growl softly, though I tried to hide it.
Tiziano gestured for me to sit without even looking at me.
I obeyed without question, sitting silently while he continued his phone conversation.
I remained still, unsure whether I should start eating or wait until he was ready before disturbing the elaborate arrangements they had made with the food.
A few minutes later, he ended the call impatiently and tossed the phone onto the table before sitting beside me.
He looked different from what I was used to.
He had showered and was wearing white shorts and a button-down shirt that was partly open, revealing some of his chest. The sight was unsettling, and I quickly looked away.
“What are you waiting for? Eat,” he ordered firmly.
“I can wait until you have your meal, Don Tiziano.” My voice came out lower than I expected, and he narrowed his eyes at me, visibly confused.
“You’re going to wait for me to eat?” His expression was incredulous, as if I had said something absurd.
“I can do that.”
He shook his head in disbelief before sighing.
“Just eat, Bianca.”
“Whatever I want? I can serve myself whatever I want?” I asked, my voice coming out more excited than I intended. My eyes lit up as they traveled across the table, like a child being introduced to a candy store.
“Wasn’t it like that at your house?” he asked casually, but his gaze was attentive.
I picked up a sweet roll without hesitation and took an eager bite before answering.
“No. I always had to wait.”
“Wait for what?” he asked, now frowning.
“For everyone else to start. That way, I wouldn’t take anything that already belonged to someone,” I replied naturally, unaware of the impact of my words.
He didn’t answer. He simply watched me as I took more food and placed it on my plate, saying nothing. There was something strange about the way he looked at me, as though he were trying to understand something that made no sense to him.
Meanwhile, I ate as though it were the best meal of my life. Because it was. For the first time, I didn’t have to worry about measuring every bite or avoiding disapproving looks.
Tiziano remained silent, but he didn’t take his eyes off me. I didn’t know what he was thinking, but for a brief moment, he seemed less cold, almost contemplative.
“Do you like it?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.
“Yes,” I answered honestly, wiping a little sugar from the corner of my lips.
“Good. Eat as much as you want,” he said, leaning back in his chair again, his gaze still fixed on me as though he were studying my every movement.
And as strange as it was, that was the best part of my day. Even with him there.