"You're attending a social gathering tomorrow at the Evans?" Anthony asks as he gets under the covers with me.
I laid down on the bed and tugged the sheets up. I'm not surprised that Anthony knows, after all, he has people monitoring me every hour of the day. I'm not even concerned since it's all for my safety. "They want me to run, but I'm not going to run without making a bit of a storm."
Anthony chuckles and shakes his head. His hand rests on top of my hair. "My little wife is getting stronger by the day."
I slap his hand away. "I'm not a little girl."
He grabs my wrist and pulls me over before leaping on top of my body. His hands trace downward, "With this body, how could I ever think such a thing." I moan when he slips his hands underneath my shirt before he pulls the covers over us.
I definitely need another day at the spa.
I sat inside the car with the phone in my hand. "He tricked you," Lily said.
"What?"
"Ann. You just told me you two went to base three. That's like one freaking baseball hit into homeroom and towards fuckity fuckville of happily orgasmic ever after."
"He's my husband," I grumble.
"He's slowly tricking you into bed, Ann. Why can't you admit it?"
"How do you know?"
"Because he's Italian! They are untrustworthy men! Always sprouting out romantic words and their spaghetti!"
I'm confused about the second part but brush it off. "You're sleeping with Pietro."
"So?"
"He's Italian!"
"Well, I don't have many options, okay? We are in Italy!"
I sigh, pressing my fingers against my temple. "Okay. So what if Anthony uses sweet words to get me into bed? Lils, I...I don't dislike Anthony."
There's a long trace of silence. "Do you...Do you-" Lily breathes rapidly. "Don't tell me! Ann! Do you-"
I bit my lower lip and closed my eyes. "Yes, I like Anthony."
"Like...like like?"
I open my eyes feeling the butterflies inside my stomach. "I think...I do like like Anthony."
"And you're telling me it's not because of his double o fatso meatballs?"
Well.
"No! No! Not that! It's more emotional than- wait what did you say?"
I knew I shouldn't have told Lily about the nickname I gave Anthony. The nickname he had forbidden me to call him in front of everyone.
"Double o fatso meatballs!" she squeals. "No way! You like his double o fatso uneven meatballs!"
"Anthony's meatballs aren't uneven."
I can tell she is rolling her eyes. "All meatballs are uneven," she said before chuckling. "You saw his meatballs."
I grunt, while my face heats up even more, "Okay, maybe it's a bit lopsided."
"Ah-ha! Can you tell Pietro that? He said I'm lying!"
My face scrunches up. "Why were you guys talking about uneven meatballs?" I'm not sure why I am still calling balls...meatballs. I'm old enough to call it by its proper terminology. "I mean...testicles."
"That's fucking gross, Ann. Call it meatballs," she clears her throat "He was complaining about why my peaches are uneven. I mean, I didn't ask for these nonsymmetrical peaches when I was twelve!"
"Oh...Lils."
"But, I can't believe it you like...like like the freaking Italian mafia leader!"
The butterflies erupt due to mainly anxiety. "I know...I...there's something about Anthony, Lils. Something special like...special special." I want to slap myself for my lack of vocabulary to describe my emotions.
Lily sighs, "Okay, putting the fact that you like like one of the most dangerous men in the world because we need to be face to face and talk about it. Are you seriously going to that bitch of a homewrecker party?"
I exhale, "Yeah. I'm not going to hide in a shell Lils. Mom walked away suffering because of that woman and man." I said, understanding why she seemed so familiar. I saw her walking into that man's office a few times when mom was away for what I can theorize as therapy sessions. I don't know why she went, but I'm quite sure it has something to do with her ex-husband's sexual affairs.
"Ann. I...I'm proud of you, but be careful...please. I don't want my younger sister to get hurt."
I smile, "Thank you, sista."
I can imagine her smiling. "If they bully you, I'll fly all the way there myself and teach them a lesson. You may have class, but babe this blondie is from the hood, and she got claws," she meows.
I laugh, "I'll consider that offer."
"When are you guys coming back?"
I scratch my head. "I don't know. Anthony mentions settling a few things in America first before returning."
"Okay, I can't wait for your return. Pietro show me this new restaurant that's absolutely to die for-" she continues speaking about the place until we end the call.
Resting my elbow on the car door, I stare out at the scenery, wondering how the day would end. I grip the phone as we get closer to our destination. Anthony said he would meet me later since he had some business to handle, and I doubt I want to know what the business may be.
While we drove farther away from the city, instead of tall buildings - houses and lawns came into view. The crevices of the road path led directly to many buildings. The mansion came into view basket by a river not too far away. When we arrive at a stop, rows of green trees attack me, swaying gently to the chilly soon-to-be autumn wind. While being escorted through the mansion, I realized how everything was the same except for changed furniture.
My eyes lurk up the grand stairs to see the young man. He stands there, sharp as a stone as his eyes continue to analyze me. With our eyes in a competition, I feel an unnerving stir in my stomach.
"Mrs.Winston, this way, please," the lady escorting me said. I look back up to see a vacant spot. Without uttering another word, I continue walking.
"Angelica," the lady said lowly, and I finally clearly looked at her face. I remember her, she is a maid at the Evans household, and from what I had heard - she served the Evans before I was even born. I guess when they move, they decide to bring some of the workers with them. Analyzing her features, I realize that she looks a bit older than what I remember with strands of grey locks and crow's feet spreading across the edge of her eyes. "It's nice to see you back, Angelica."
I'm surprised people still remember me. I take a few blinks, digging deep into my memories.
She smiles, faintly. "I won't be offended if you don't remember me. I'm...no- we are glad you're doing fine."
"We?"
She nods, "We overheard of your return."
I didn't smile or frown at her statement. "I'm not returning," I look around. "Just a mere visit, to see if anything changes."
She swallows but doesn't speak another word as she continues escorting me towards the party. Soon, she excuses herself. "Wait," I said, before turning towards her. "Please, do not call me Angelica. Tell everyone that I am Mrs.Winston now."
She smiles and nods, understanding my underlying message. If she were to call me Angelica in such a close manner, then it would mean going against the current family residing inside the Evans's mansion. If she or anyone says my first name so comfortably and gets caught, they will get punished, and I don't want that.
When I was younger, I was taught that walls have ears, so I must be cautious in what I say. I didn't realize until later that it meant, other people were always listening even towards what I presume as a private conversation.
Someone called for me, and I looked forward to seeing a group of people with rectangular table baskets with small desserts accompanied by overpriced tea. Steadily, I walk with Anthony's guards behind me. There's a total of four men with two standing beside the car, making a total of six. I could tell everyone was stunned by the provoking-looking men behind me, but they didn't say anything.
One by one, the inconsequent polite conversation is made where the women would sip wine or fancied tea. I wouldn't say much, except meaningless conversational exchange as I sat there picking on the strawberry cake.
The young woman in front of me, his daughter, would rudely stare at me. "Can I help you, Young Miss Evans?" I question, annoyed by her long stare. I can tell she wants me to leave as soon as possible. I won't be surprised if she already put the pieces together that I was her father's ex-wife's daughter or probably someone told her.
Her lips thinned, "No, Mrs.Winston," her voice is unpleasant to the ears.
I tuck a strand of my hair back to reveal the diamonds Anthony got me last night. Everyone's eyes seem to burst out of their sockets as they gawk over it.
"That's-" the woman trails off.
I feel my earrings. "Ah, yes. Anthony got it for me. I told him I was going to meet some family today, so he told me I should look my best." The woman flinches while Nia frowns. Oh yes, she definitely knows.
"Oh, Mrs.Winston got family in New York?" One of the women asks, unaware of the situation.
The wind seemingly picks up. "Yes, unfortunately, I do."
"Umm, I'm sorry for imposing, but you don't sound happy."
"I'm still allowing it to sink in." I place my knuckles underneath my chin and twinkle my nose. "After all, who knows? Maybe, they're after my husband's fortunes."
Nia snorts.
I twist my head towards her. "Something to say, Nia?"
The corner of her lip twitched. "Say, Mrs.Winston," she smiles all of a sudden. "Weren't you raised in Detroit?"
One of the ladies gasped. "You poor thing!" She places her hand on top of mine. "Good thing, Mr.Winston found you and saved you from that awful place."
I frown, Detroit may be rough, but it's still the place where I grew up. It's where Mom met Dad. The place where I met Lily and completed my family. The area where the triplets were given lives. "Detroit may be rough, but it's home."
"Explain why you moved to Italy," Nia pitched in with a grand smile.
"It's okay to tell us the truth, Angelica," When did we get close Miss I still don't remember your name. "Mr.Winston," she sighs, "Such a charitable man."
Nia's grin only widened.
I remove my hand and hide it under the table, crunching it into fists. I dig my claws into my palm, afraid I may punch every single lady present. I place my ring in the air, deciding to play along, causing some of them to gasp loudly at its size. "Yes, truly charitable," I smile deviously. "Anthony even allowed me to bring my older sister and all four of my younger brothers. He brought my older sister a car, like that one in the magazine?" I tilt my head for a dumb effect. "Ferrari something?"
Another gasp, "Ferrari LaFerrari?"
I clap my hands together. "Yes! I think so!"
"That's a 1.3 million dollar car," I grin as she holds my hand. "But, it's nothing compared to this rock."
If they want to label me as a gold digger - which I may be - then I'll play the role.
I sigh dramatically. "It's getting way too much. The black cards, limos, endless amount of designer clothes, expensive jewelry, large mansions that are a lot bigger than this place." I waved my hands in front of my face as if I was crying. "I'm thinking of getting an island," Some of them choke on their drinks or dessert. "Just to get away from all of this, you know?"
One of the women chuckles. "An island? Isn't that a bit exaggerating Mrs.Winston?"
I shake my head. "Exaggerating?" I pause, "Heavens no! I feel like it's not enough! Anthony told me I could get anything I wanted. So sweet, but his affection is too much sometimes. He-"
"He what?" one of the women asks eagerly, forgetting that there are 15-16 years old girls present.
"He gives me excellent massages all night long and refuses to allow me to return his gratitude."
The teenagers' and some women's faces turn red.
I plant my hands under my cheeks. "See what I mean? Anthony treasures me so much, so my so-called potentially greedy relatives-" I look at the duo in front of me, "will take advantage of us."
"Who is taking advantage of you?" Nia asks. I'm quite sure that wasn't a question, more like an insult. She is undoubtedly at her breaking point.
I smiled.
Her eyes narrow daringly. "Why are you here?" she said slowly, ensuring no one would hear. However, due to my mom's teachings, I understand that these women are always listening despite pretending they aren't. They would continue their small conversations but keep a single ear wide open.
I smile, "Your mother personally invited me," I held the cup to my lips.
She sneers.
I place it down and stand up. "If I'm not welcome, then I believe I should leave," I said purposely a bit louder than my normal voice. I'm actually sick of sitting and forcing myself to make meaningless conversations.
"Why are you leaving?" one of the women who I'm sure adore drama questions.
"It seems that Young Miss Evans does not enjoy my presence. I'm not certain what I did-" I pause and look at her mother, "however, this is the Evans's household, and I hold no place to force my stay." I want to pat myself on the back for all those years of practicing these stupid structured vocabularies.
The woman takes a step forward to open her mouth to speak, but her daughter seems to beat her to it. "Goodbye."