Library

3. Stefania

The law firm of Cougar and Mellon is quiet on a Monday morning. I get in early, squeeze into my desk at the far corner of the cube farm, boot up my computer, and have two minutes to sip my coffee before Giorgia appears behind me with her hands on her hips.

"What the hell happened to you Saturday night and why have you been blowing me off ever since?" She's smirking at me like she knows something happened and I try not to turn a very revealing shade of scarlet.

I feel bad. I ditched her that night because I couldn't stand the idea of going back inside, and when she called in a total panic asking me to prove I didn't get human trafficked, I made up some excuse about not feeling well. Then she offered to come over Sunday with chicken soup, which I rejected, followed by a bunch of questions about the true nature of my illness, which I evaded to the best of my ability.

"Nothing," I say and feel extremely lame from my head to my toes. "Just didn't feel good, that's all."

"Uh, yeah, right." Giorgia sits down on the edge of my desk. She's wearing a long pencil skirt and a silky blouse. Her blonde hair hangs in waves to her shoulders and her makeup is absolutely immaculate. I've known her for a couple of years now, and she's the sort of take-no-bullshit person who will absolutely not let this go. That makes her a wonderful best friend, but really, really hard to lie to. She works in the research division of the firm like me, and basically, we're tasked with pulling legal documents and hunting down client information for all the attorneys as needed.

I rub my temple and plaster on a smile. "Can we just pretend like Saturday never happened? Seriously, G, can we let it go?"

"Definitely not." She pushes her lips together. "You ditched me without so much as a goodbye. You owe me an explanation."

"I was sick. I didn't feel good. Stomach issues, dizziness, headaches, spontaneous combustion, it was really bad."

"Wow, for a girl who was literally on fire a day ago, you look great."

I sigh and put my face in my hands. "It was a guy. Okay?"

"Now we're talking," she says, sounding far too excited as she shimmies closer and pitches her voice lower so nobody can hear. "There was a rumor that some power couple took over the men's room for like ten minutes and wouldn't let anyone inside. I overheard a bunch of drunk investment bankers complaining about it."

I arch my eyebrows. "How did you know they were investment bankers? Are you sure you overheard them?"

"Yeah, definitely, while they were buying me drinks. What did you do, Stef?"

I take a deep breath and blow it out. There's no way I can keep this from Giorgia, and honestly, a part of me doesn't want to hide it. I mean, I'm not exactly ashamed of what I did. I believe in every woman's right to bodily autonomy and sexual pleasure, and think slut-shaming is regressive patriarchal bullshit, but since I'm from a regressive patriarchal mob family, that sort of deep guilt is built into my very DNA.

"There was this guy?—"

Giorgia squeals with pure, fresh-squeezed delight. "You did not."

"He spilled a drink on me by accident, then I spilled a drink on him on purpose, and then he sort of, uh, helped me, uh, get cleaned up… in the bathroom."

Her eyes turn into full moons and she covers her mouth with both hands as my face burns with the heat of a lifetime of sexual repression and overbearing gender norms.

"Tell me this cleaning involved his dick," she whispers and leans close. "Tell me you got it."

"No, it involved, uh—" I can't even look at her as I say it. "His mouth."

She howls and breaks down into a fit of laughter. I lean back and glare at her, mortification turning into anger as a legal secretary shoots us an annoyed look from across the aisle.

"I am so fucking proud of you," Giorgia says once she's under control. "I'm serious, you've been dying for a little something for so freaking long, it's unreal. I didn't expect it to happen with a stranger in a club bathroom, but you do you, no judgment here. I'm just happy you're okay, that's all."

"I'm fine," I admit and it feels good to get this off my chest, honestly. "It was just weird, you know? I was all apologetic at first, then he was being a total dick about it, and then he made this extremely dirty comment?—"

"What did he say?" she whispers, almost bouncing up and down with excitement. "Oh my god, you have to tell me."

I wish I could keep my stupid mouth shut because of course Giorgia wants me to spill the details, and now she'll never let it go until I tell her. It's either we end our friendship here and now, or I explode with embarrassment. Sighing, hating myself, I stand and lean up to her ear, and tell her the bit about shoving panties into my mouth—and make sure not to mention that he actually did it.

She stares at me, not laughing this time, and I swear her ears are turning red as I sit back down, feeling a little smug, happy that I could stun her into silence for once.

"Wow," she says and clears her throat. "Okay, that's very intense for a first interaction."

"I didn't plan on doing anything with him, but it's just, he cleared out the bathroom and he was talking about cleaning me up and then things happened. I feel pretty weird about it."

"Don't feel weird." Giorgia squats down next to me and takes my hand in hers. "I'm serious. I've done some extremely slutty things in my day, and you know how much I hate that word, but it's true. You have every right to explore your sexuality as much as you want. I mean, maybe don't do it in a club bathroom, and maybe get to know the guy a tiny bit first so you're not in actual danger or whatever, but you have nothing to feel weird about, okay?"

Just like that, I remember why I love this girl so much. I give her a big girl smile and squeeze her hand, trying not to get all teary-eyed because my friend made me feel better about myself. "You're right. I know you're right. Just still trying to undo years of programming, you know?"

"We all are. I still get excited to see bridal magazines, and I don't even want to get married. How's that for programming?"

I snort-laugh and swat her away before we can start complaining about how society has failed women, a perennial topic for us thanks to this male-dominated office. She gets back to work and I'm feeling better about myself when my cell starts to ring. I'm about to ignore it when I glance at the screen and see my oldest brother's name.

Renzo is almost forty. He's married with one lovely little maniac child, and he's the head of our family's organization. I guess he's the Don, but it's weird to think of Renzo that way—after I was born, my parents checked out of parenthood, and he stepped in to fill the void. He's the closest thing I had to a father figure growing up, and I love him to death even if I also resent him a little bit, because he represents the world I've been trying to escape for a very long time now.

"Hey, big brother," I say, answering, because he rarely ever calls me in the morning, so it must be important. A nervous tingle runs into my belly—does he know what happened on Saturday? The club is owned by my other brother, Carlo—was I spotted with Davide? "What's going on?"

"I need you to come to the house. We have something we need to talk about."

Now I really do feel sick. I lean back in my chair, nerves going crazy. Renzo never does this—ever since I began withdrawing from family life, he's been giving me as much space as I've wanted. He's a really good older brother like that.

"What's going on? Is something wrong?"

"Not exactly. We'll talk about it in person. Head over right now."

I glance at my calendar. "I have a meeting in ten minutes. Can it wait?"

"Your meetings are canceled and your boss knows you have an important engagement to attend. There's a car waiting outside for you."

I close my eyes, hands trembling. This law firm is deeply in bed with the Rossi Famiglia, so deep it's practically a mob front, which means if the Don wants to see his little sister, it doesn't matter how many fucking meetings I have. He'll see me.

"Yeah, sure, I'll head down now."

Renzo hangs up.

He has to know. Carlo has cameras all over that club and someone must've spotted me going into the bathroom with Davide. Or maybe his people heard the rumors and they figured it out that way. It doesn't matter how, but Renzo knows I did something in that bathroom with a strange man, and now I have to go talk to him about it.

This is the most mortifying moment of my whole life.

I don't know what I'm going to say. Should I apologize? Defend my actions? I can't even decide if what I did is worth defending—I mean, Giorgia's right, I wasn't being safe, and Renzo should be pissed at me for putting myself in a dangerous situation.

Now I get to have a horrible conversation about my very impulsive actions, and this is all thanks to not getting laid for over three years. I blame latent horniness, and vow to get myself off at least four times per week from now on, just to make sure this never happens again.

I grab my bag and head to the elevators, feeling like I'm marching off to my own public execution.

Comments

0 Comments
Best Newest

Contents
Settings
  • T
  • T
  • T
  • T
Font

Welcome to FullEpub

Create or log into your account to access terrific novels and protect your data

Don’t Have an account?
Click above to create an account.

lf you continue, you are agreeing to the
Terms Of Use and Privacy Policy.