Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 142640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 713(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 475(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142640 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 713(@200wpm)___ 571(@250wpm)___ 475(@300wpm)
His dark eyes rise to mine as electricity bounces between us.
Kiss me.
A sound comes from up the hall and we step back from each other guiltily. “Do you know where the bathroom is?” a woman’s voice asks.
“Down the hall to the left,” he replies calmly.
My heart is racing as I stare at the floor.
“Thank you,” she calls.
My eyes rise to meet his and we stare at each other.
“You need to leave,” he says, devoid of emotion. “Now.”
6
Francesca
What?
Did I hear that right?
That wasn’t my fault, he undid my ribbon, not the other way around.
“Just go.” He turns and leaves the room and with my heart hammering loud in my ears I stare after him, I hear him take the stairs two at a time.
Did we just have a moment?
Shit.
I need to get out of here.
I shouldn’t have come, what was I thinking?
I glance up at the huge photo of my father, suddenly infuriated with the situation I find myself in. “Are you happy with the mess you left behind?” I whisper under my breath.
I head toward the door and look back at what may just be the most romantic bedroom I have ever seen.
Only it’s not, because it’s tainted with lies.
My father wasn’t a hero…he was a married man.
And for the first time since I learned the truth, I see things as my mother does. In black and white, there are no blurred lines.
You are either married or you aren’t.
He should have divorced my mother and he most definitely shouldn’t have had two women pregnant at nearly the same time.
Giuliano would have only been one when my mother was pregnant with me.
My stomach rolls.
Panic sets in and I need to get out of here. I take the stairs two at a time,
I imagine him leaving a woman here with a small baby to go home to his pregnant wife.
Making love to both of them.
One lover nursing his infant, another lover carrying his unborn child.
My eyes well with tears and I burst out the front door and march to the car with urgency.
Antonio’s face falls when he sees me. “Are you alright, Miss Ferrara?”
“I’m fine.” I open the back door before he gets the chance to. “I would like to go home, please,” I say as I get into the back seat, he stares down at me. “Now,” I demand.
“Yes, of course.” He closes the door and gets into the driver’s seat, I glance up at the house as we pull away. Everything appears so sweet, filled with love and memories and photos.
I never really knew my father at all, but I do know one thing.
He was selfish.
Giuliano
The phone rings and I answer it. “Giuliano,” my mother’s soft voice says.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Honey, can you come over and fix the tap.”
I look over to the end of my bed and the naked woman lying there. “I can’t, I’m busy,” I reply.
“What am I going to do about the leaky tap?” Mom asks.
The girl spreads her legs for me and I tear my shirt over my shoulder as urgency to get off the phone fills me. “Call the plumber, Mom. I know nothing about pipes,” I snap, frustrated.
“Oh…” she whispers, disappointed.
Damn it, why does she always call at the most inconvenient time? “I’ve got to go,” I say.
“I love you, Giuliano” she says.
I hang up in a rush and as if hovering up above, I watch myself kiss the girl and then, in the background, I can hear my mother crying.
She’s heartbroken from a selfish son who never had time for her.
Suddenly I’m standing at my mother’s kitchen window, I can see her, she’s sitting on her couch, still crying.
Oh no.
“I’m here, Mom,” I call.
She cries and cries.
I try to open the door but it’s locked.
She’s still crying. “I’m here, Mom,” I call louder, but she can’t hear me.
I feel panic rise within me.
“I’m here, Mom,” I call as I bang hard on the window. “I’ll fix the tap, I’ll do it now. I promise.”
She stands and then holds her head as if in pain.
“I’m here,” I cry.
She holds her temples and her face contorts.
No.
I bang hard on the window as I try to get to her.
She collapses.
“Mom,” I cry, I bang hard on the window, but she can’t hear me.
It’s like I’m hovering and watching from above.
“Angelina,” I hear one of her guards cry, two of them run in the front door and they begin working on her, someone else calls an ambulance.
I need to get to her, quick, hurry.
I run around to the front of her house. I try to open the doorknob.
Locked.
I can’t get in, I begin to kick the front door in as I yell for them to let me to her.
“Stay with us, Angelina,” her guard yells as they begin to perform CPR.
I’m banging on the glass, yelling, crying. Desperate to get to my dying mother.