Roxana

It was easy. When I looked at Kary holding her mother's hand I perceived it as easy to decide where my place in the world was and what I was supposed to do.

The resignation letter to Christian was written in a few minutes and I didn't hesitate to press send. Kary and Dani are the only family I have left and my place is by their side.

After we reached Bern again I had to leave Kary an utter crying mess and go to the airport. Christian hasn't answered yet, but he will, latest on Monday.

I only have a one-month notice period which is fine. It's more than enough to find another job and leave my affairs in order.

Speaking of affairs, maybe I do manage to get laid at least once this month. I must admit that would be nice. It's easy to lose control of my imagination and picture my hands touching Marco's face, his lips, and that perfectly carved torso where I could effortlessly trace the lines of many muscles. He is beautiful and it seems that damn dance was the catalyst needed for our strange but very natural chemistry to bubble and explode.

I will just go for it. Now I have nothing to lose and it would be nice to end my time in Sicily with some candy.

This time, I get the bus to Taormina and afterward to the villa. I felt bad to ask Damian again to pick me up.

A bit after eleven, I reach my destination. It's dark and silent. One of the men guarding the place is opening the gate for me. I wonder if Marco is back but I can't just walk in the villa and ask, can I?

Judging by my usual luck I will encounter Stefano who will ask me to blow him again. I bet Marco will not be delighted If I tell him that and the reason is rather hard to explain.

The next morning I drink my coffee on the scaffolding hopping for a magical encounter. Without success though, but around ten Tomaso comes to our daily meetings.

"May I ask something... hmm personal?" I say in the end after dancing around the subject for hours.

His face becomes stern. I guess this is a no.

"Don Marco is not here," he says in the end sighing.

Oh.

"Actually I wanted to ask if Don Stefano is feeling better and what happened to him."

It's a lie. I care more about Marco's whereabouts but, I want to know this too and he answered partially the first question.

"He is, but what happened to him is not information I can share. Anything else?"

"Hmm actually yes. Why do you call Marco 'don'? You don't do that with any other person from the staff. It's mostly first name basis."

"Because he is not part of the staff, obviously. Though I understand your confusion; he often behaves ambiguously. Don Marco is Don Stefano's brother as you might be suspecting already. Roxana, you don't look like a golddigger, and given this question, you had no idea who you were meddling with but now you know, so act accordingly and break it off. It's for the best, believe me. "

"I will. I resigned. I will be gone by the end of the month."

Tomaso looked at me for an instant.

"I am quite sorry to hear that, it is very pleasant working with you."

"Thank you," I answer, smiling genuinely.

Around five, I finally receive the phone call I was dreading.

"You ungrateful bitch."

"Hello to you too, Christian."

"I accepted to not fire you after how you behaved recently and now you pull this shit."

Somehow I am not in the mood to tolerate his behavior anymore.

"Christian, I am sorry. There are important family matters I need to take care of in Switzerland. I hope you understand. You told me recently how important family is for you too and also that I am not irreplaceable."

Just couldn't help to drip in a bit of sarcasm. God, I was in love with him for so long but now I see so clearly how wrong I was and how bad he was actually behaving.

"I want you gone tomorrow," he thunders.

"According to our contract, I have one month's notice period. If we don't take that into account it's still one month according to Swiss law."

"But I can write you a really bad recommendation letter. I guess I will do that either way and fire you. So be gone by tomorrow, you hear me?"

"Sure," I answer hanging up irritated.

Well damn, now I need to speed up all processes.

It does not end there though and after two hours, I receive a call from Walter. He is apologizing for Christian's behavior and begs me not to quit. Everything evolves into a heated discussion. Christian is screaming in the background that he does not want to see my face ever again.

We settle on dissolving my contract amicably so I can leave by the end of the week. Like that, they still have a few days to send someone down here.

After that, I call Peter to tell him.

With all the trouble, I didn't manage to talk to him lately but he seems very happy to hear me regardless. We talk about life and he says he is taking some time off to spend it with his wife and children.

"Rocky, I have worked thirty years in the industry. I know people. Regardless of what Christian will tell them, my word weighs more and I will help you get a new job. Actually, a buddy of mine called recently to ask if I have someone to recommend and now I seem to have. I will call now and on Monday you can go to an interview. How does that sound?"

"Just great. You know I am not demanding, it just needs to pay and be in Bern."

"I know you aren't but you should be. You are good."

At the end of the day, it wasn't that hard.

Damian was expecting the news after our last talk on the topic but is sad nonetheless, and so are the other boys. We agree to go to town on Thursday evening and celebrate because my very long flight is going to be on Friday evening.

The only thing that is still nagging at me is not having seen Marco at all these days. I really would like a proper goodbye but you do not always get what you want in life, do you...

Thursday evening comes quickly and I head with the boys to town. It is as fun as last time. We get a bit drunk and laugh, and they try to pick up girls with more or less success.

"Hey Rox, der Typ da schaut dich schon den ganzen Abend an./ Hey Rox, that guy was looking at you the whole evening," whispers Damian in my ear.

I look up to see at the other end of the bar a well-built, bald guy. He looks fairly decent but his gaze is somehow strange.

"Nicht interessiert?/ Not interested?"

"Na, nicht wirklich. Und morgen bin ich eh weg./ No, not really, and tomorrow I am anyway gone."

"Kann ich etwas persönliches fragen?/ Can I ask something personal?"

"Sicher./ Sure."

"Du datest den Italiener, oder?/ You' dating the Italian guy, right?"

"Weiß nicht. Ja, son' bisschen. Bin mir nicht sicher. Aber es ist egal, morgen bin ich eh weg. Warum?/ Not sure. Yes, kind of, a little, I don't know. But it doesn't matter, tomorrow I am gone anyway. Why?"

"Weil seitdem wir zusammen arbeiten habe ich dich niemals jemandem daten sehen und ich musste denke dass er wohl etwas richtig gemacht haben muss. Und es war nett dass es uns bei der Arbeit geholfen hat. Und na ja, ich mag dich und möchte dass du glücklich bist./ Because I have not seen you date anyone not even remotely since we work together and it made me think that he must have done something right. Plus it was nice that he helped us with work, made me dislike him less. And well, I like you and I want you to be well."

"Aww, du bist genau so lieb wie groß. Komm her./ Aww you are as nice as you are big, come here," I say and hug him and kiss him on the cheek.
He pats me on the head and smiles.

"Ich muss pinkeln, bin gleich wieder da./ I have to pee; I will be right back."

My inebriated brain makes its way to the toilets and I can't help thinking in what a great mood for drunk texting I am, too bad I have no number.

Too busy with my daydream I don't notice the guy from the bar who is now grabbing my arm in the dimly lit corridor.

"Mi scusa," I mutter yanking my arm away.

However, he comes closer and closer, till my back is pressed against a wall.

"Signore, yo non sono interessata,/ I am not interested, sir."

Regardless he says nothing, only comes closer pressing me against the wall.

I try to shove him away but I am small and kind of drunk and he presses his hand on my mouth so I cannot scream.

Raped in an obscure bar in Sicily? Seriously? That cannot be it. I start kicking and suddenly he is yanked away and pushed to the ground by two guys. I recognize Damian and Jurek.

"Alles gut, Rox?/ Is everything alright, Rox?"

"Yeah," I huff and look how five boys gather in that hallway and start punching the guy.

"Was macht ihr? Ich könnt verhaftet werden./ What are you doing? You can get arrested for this."

"Bah, er hat meine Freundin begrabscht, wenn sie fragen. Ich Wette jeder Typ wird das verstehen können./ Bah, he was groping my girlfriend if they ask. Every guy would understand, Italians even more, that I punched his face. Let's go."

That was indeed it because the mood shifts so Damian offers to drive me home.

I fall asleep again with the same tiny regret nagging at me somewhere in the back of my mind.

So in the morning, I compose a tiny letter. How very old-school, right? At five, after my workday is finished, I march into the villa trying to find Tomaso to ask him kindly to deliver it. I hope he will not throw it away.

I knock on Tomaso's office door and wait. Damn...

"Roxi." I turn around to see Marco, who was two steps behind me. How the fuck does he do that? Moving so silently.

I can't dwell on the thought because he almost crushes me in a hug and opens the door to Tomaso's office dragging me inside.

Leaning against the closed door we look into each other's eyes. His look just as mesmerizing as I remembered them but also terribly tired.

I open my mouth to ask what happened but shortly after his lips are on mine and his hands in my hair and wandering along my torso unzipping the jacket and letting it fall to the ground together with my shoulder bag.

My thoughts are forgotten between the strokes of his tongue and his delirious touch that harbors a tiny bit of despair buried in the longing.

"Tomaso is not here as you can see," he says with panting breath searching with his fingers for the hem of my t-shirt.

"Good. It is you I was searching for," I answer, equally disturbed still looking into his eyes and bringing my hands to his face. Gods it feels good.

"I am honored. Why? Not that I am complaining," he says and lifts me up to sit on Tomaso's desk which is two steps away from the door, still panting and still moving his hands over my upper body.

"I was concerned about you."

"Yeah?" he asks, yanking my t-shirt over my head and throwing it somewhere in the room.

"Yeah. And I am also leaving."

"Where?" he asks unaffected starting to descend with his kisses down my neck. My concentration is challenged severely, but the awareness still strikes me like an ice bucket.

I back off a tiny bit to look him again in the eyes.

"To Switzerland. I quit. Today is my last day," I say and the atmosphere is ambiguous. For the death of me, I can't understand what I see in his eyes. Disappointment? A bit of lingering lust? Sadness? Fear?

He caresses my face gently.

"I suppose, that is for the best after all," he says in the end.

But since I am here half-naked with the guy I like... I could see where it leads.

"But I don't know... But you can visit me in Bern. We can go to a clock museum or so," I say, pressing my lips on his again and moving my hands to unbutton his shirt. He moans softly into the kiss.

It seems I didn't lose my edge that bad.

"Yeah, clock museum. Mhm. And when exactly are you leaving? I could drive you," he says between the kisses that he is now again keen on spreading on my shoulders and along my collarbones.

"To the airport? Yeah, I would like that," I say between muffled moans.

"No, to Switzerland," he says, biting lightly into my shoulder and moving his fingers to the clasp of my bra.

We both hear a knock on the very much unlocked door and startle a little.

"Shh, don't make a sound; whoever it is will hopefully go away soon," he whispers.

From outside a little voice is screaming in Italian.

"Zio Marco, sei qui?"

Little hands open the door and a little head framed by dark locks looks inside.

"Anabella," gasps Marco and I look at him frozen.