Amore
Ilaid on my stomach in my hot pink bikini, reading a fashion magazine. The late August edition. I couldn’t believe they had featured mine and Maria’s designs. It offered us great exposure. I couldn’t wait to celebrate with her.
I was enjoying my last week to the fullest before returning home. Uncle Vincent was already back in the States, getting back to business. Lorenzo was in Ibiza with us, currently having a hot date with a local girl. I still couldn’t decide who was a bigger manwhore, Adriano or Lorenzo. I loved them both, but I swore they had a new girl every week.
And I… I had a picture-perfect life and admirers at every corner according to the papers. I hid my heartache behind a dazzling smile. I had come to terms with Santi being my addiction, and this withdrawal would be something I’d have to manage for the rest of my life. It had been two months, three weeks, and four days since he kissed me last. But who's counting?
The saying‘time heals all wounds’was bullshit. The craving didn’t ease. Love didn’t diminish, not even slightly. And the nights… God, the nights were tortuous.
My phone beeped and I reached for it in my bag, picking it up. It was Lorenzo, a selfie with a girl. A very beautiful one.
*My date. Told her you’d worry if I didn’t check in.*
I grinned. He was a Casanova. He wouldn’t remember her in a few days, but right now she was the love of his life. Maybe that was the trouble with men, they couldn’t be faithful. I had started to wonder if even George was faithful to my mother. Though his sons were older than me. They were around Santi’s age.
I laid back next to Adriano and took a goofy selfie with my tongue sticking out and a rock-on hand symbol, then sent it to him with the caption.
*My date. Tell her to keep her guard up.*
*Don’t jinx me, sis. We have only a few days left.*
I sighed. I had bought myself extra time, only because Adriano and Lorenzo were willing to stay with me. Adriano and Santi were having disagreements, so I suspected he wanted to cool off. It worked in my favor. Lorezno only agreed to remain for the chance to see more European girls. I felt sorry for whoever their wives would be one day because I couldn’t picture either one of them ever being faithful.
Glancing at my best friend, I smiled. He might be a manwhore, but I still loved him. He took me under his wing during high school, and everyone knew if they fucked with me, he would fuck with them. Girls could sometimes be meaner than boys, and he even had that covered. Half tried to jab at me because they were jealous that Adriano Russo gave me attention, and the other half tried to be my fake friends to get closer to him.
And here he was now, sprawled out next to me with his aviator shades on. He thought he was fooling me by pretending he was sleeping. I knew he was checking out women behind those dark sunglasses. I was half tempted to put sunscreen on his nose and leave it smeared white so he would look ridiculous.
He faked a snore, and my mind was made up. It was a prank kind of day.
“I’m going to put sunscreen on your nose and chest to ensure my best friend doesn’t burn,” I muttered, just loud enough to ensure he could hear me.
I kept my face straight as I pulled out my sunscreen with titanium dioxide; I used it to ensure my fair skin didn’t burn. I applied some to his nose and smeared it. Once his nose was good and white, I put a generous amount on his chest. I bit the inside of my cheek to stop from grinning.
My palm on his chest, I smeared it slowly over his warm skin. Adriano’s chest was nothing like Santino’s. The two brothers were physically similar but Santi’s body temperature ran a few degrees hotter and he was taller. Unfortunately, both brothers were very well built, though for some stupid reason, Adriano’s body did nothing for me. He could parade naked, and my heart wouldn’t even skip a beat.
Once satisfied that Adriano’s tan chest was plenty white, I returned my attention to the magazine. I skimmed through the pages, happy to see over half of the magazine was designer clothing produced by The Orchid, my business venture with Maria, and the Regalè Fashion House. The business was growing, the shares had skyrocketed. There were hurdles I had to overcome when I became the face to the Regina Corporation. There were those on the board that thought I was too young. They might have been right, but I was determined to succeed. Now, I sat on the board of directors right alongside them.
And I had started my own company, The Orchid. There was no board of directors to answer to, and Maria was my partner. It started as a fun project that had exploded. We had a backlog for the next five years and orders kept pouring in.
The Orchid. My first kiss happened there. Officially the name derived from my mother because we wanted to create a spectacular design inspired by orchids. It was only half of the truth. The other half was that it also reminded me of Santi. Despite everything, he had turned my memory of that flower into something beautiful again.
For a long time, the flower represented my guilt. For not listening to Mom. For causing her death with my recklessness. But Santi turned it back into the love Mom and I shared for that flower before all that. Despite the fact that he dumped me and broke my heart.
On top of all that, DeAngelo and the team of special ops men had been cleaning out the jungles of Venezuela. The Perèz Cartel numbers were dwindling down.
The question now was who took over. Somehow George’s sons, which he’d kept hidden, were connected to the cartel and wanted their father, my mother, and me dead.
Truthfully, I couldn’t wait for this little side endeavor to be over with. Fulfill my promise and then focus on the good things in my life. Besides, constant excuses and lies for my travels to South America were getting exhausting. To my family, I used Regalè business as an excuse. Some bullshit about meeting suppliers for new material.
With a sigh, I rolled over onto my back, leaned onto my elbows and watched people swim, hang out on the beach, eat ice cream, dance to music. We were in Ibiza, the techno mecca of Europe. I thought Italy was heaven, but nothing quite compared to this little island. The rich and famous thrived here, yet I felt adrift. The missing puzzle piece ruled the Cosa Nostra in New York and without him, nothing felt quite the same.
The summer was coming to an end. Both Grandma and Dad expected me back in New York. Two months sincehedumped me, and I wasn’t ready to see him. I didn’t think I’d ever be ready to see him.
Funny how certain life events mark your life.
There was life before South America and after.
Life before Santi and after him.