Roxana

Everything in life is about sex, except sex, sex is about power.

...said a guy once; I think his name is Oscar and he is kind of famous.

And this is the first thing that seeps into my mind this morning, like the obnoxious daylight that seeps between my eyelashes. I remember slowly where I am, why I am lying on the floor, what exactly I did last night, and most of all with whom.

"Col cavolo,/ Damn it." I hear Marco whisper and move slightly.

"What? This sounds like a swear word again."

"Because it is one. Again. My head is killing me. I don't get why people drink," he whispers in a sleepy voice.

"Well start with thinking why you drank."

"To fake liking people."

I can't hold a chuckle.

"Did it work?"

"Yes, but to what price, Mio Dio. Oh. Fuck. Did we... ? Merda!"

You idiot. You didn't calculate that he would not remember one damn thing, did you? I guess I should have done it when he was sober.

It seems I slept the whole night koala-style all over him. I so overdid it and to what end? So that he doesn't remember shit. 

Okay, Roxi, stand up nonchalantly as if nothing happened. Stay cool, stay cool. Breathe.

"I need a shower," I manage to say.

"Go ahead, I need some painkillers. My back hasn't been so stiff since I slept in a tent in the desert with the Mexican narcos for a week."

It would have been an interesting story to hear but the awkwardness is stronger so I just escape into the bathroom and start brushing my teeth.

I look at myself in the mirror and feel a bit strange. Despite the fact that my hair looks like a bird's nest and my neck is a bit stiff, I feel strangely... Okay. Then it dawns on me: I feel okay because I actually slept more than two to three nightmare-filled hours for the first time in days. Apparently, having at least a trace of a plan helps.

I need to get back on track with that, put the cute dress back on and be flirty and all that, it's just that now in daylight when the anger is a bit dampened I just feel awkward.

This damn bathroom is almost as big as mine and Kary's apartment. All dark marble with golden fixtures, a huge jacuzzi tub in the ground, a huge open shower, everything is huge. Yeah, grampa is most certainly a billionaire. Who knows how many heads lay at the foundation of this marvellous place?

I keep brushing my teeth lost in thought. Was it a bad move? Last night it didn't seem so. It did look as if he liked it. I mean, I sure as hell tried to make it pleasurable. I am yours to command... Yeah, that would be great. I mean Tomaso said he is good, and he seemed good when he shot those guys in the yard. Ivan would not see this one coming.

Can Marco shoot him? I would gladly watch how he bleeds out and the light fades from his eyes.

The water feels so great on my skin and the temperature in Rome at the beginning of May is actually really pleasant. Who would have thought I would get here? Ok. Shower, do your hair and put on a convincing smile.

He bought me yesterday five dresses and some underwear and two pairs of shoes. Cudos man, they are all kind of pretty. It makes me wonder how a seemingly straight guy has this good taste in girls' clothes. None of them is however what you would call sexy. Hmm, maybe the dark blue one is a little bit with that cleavage.

I will wear that one since I chose the sexual favours route. Once again...

When I finally gather the courage to exit the bathroom Marco is lying in bed fully dressed, reading something. He looks up and smirks then frowns a bit.

"The dress suits you. I'm happy."

"Thank you. You have a surprisingly good fashion sense for a... straight guy. Are you straight?"

He presses his hips together funnily and lifts an eyebrow.

He breathes out something between a smirk and a scoff. "Yep, mostly straight. But I thought you already gatherer that much."

"I just... ah... One should never assume."

"Indeed. But you could have taken a wild guess," he says jumping down from the bed and walking towards me.

Still smiling just a bit, he walks behind me and slides his hands along my arms and brushes his cheek over mine.

"It's the Italian genes, we like classy things," he whispers bemused and I feel his minty breath on my face and that interesting cologne of his.

He showered and all that. Where?

That turn of phrase reminds me a bit of Stefano, of that night in his office, of how it felt and my expression freezes.

"And marble. You guys like marble. That's what Stefano said," I answer a bit absentmindedly.

"When exactly did Stefano say that?" he asks and turns to look at me.

"One night when I was in his office," I answer placidly looking down at the floor. 

He traces my jawline with the back of his hand and lifts my chin so I cannot avoid his gaze anymore.

"And what exactly were you doing at night in Stefano's office? I think it's overdue I ask this. Were you having an affair, Roxi?" His voice is very calm.

I swallow hard. His face is so pretty and I am so disturbed and a bit afraid. I guess it makes no sense to lie.

"No. Uh, or not sure. It was only once."

"And why? Try not to lie, okay? I am not going to hurt you or so, scream at you or do anything unpleasant, regardless of what you say. Just to be clear," he says very calmly but I can't help finding the tone strange.

"I... I uh. Christian said I should go there and wear a dress. I knew what that meant but I was in love with Christian and he said that if I didn't do it he would lose the company and the home for his family. So I did just as he said because it's horrible when you are in that situation and you owe a lot of money and have no idea what to do and no way out." At this point, I notice that tears stain my cheeks and my voice is shaking.

He wipes them away calmly still holding my chin and in the end releases it finally so that I can lean my head on his shoulder.

My body is trembling with sobs. I didn't even notice how it came to that.

"Hush, it's okay. Calm down. Wasn't your brightest moment, was it, Pebbles?"

"Why?" I mutter.

"Because Christian was most probably lying. And regardless, if he is an idiot that relies on one client it's on him and no problem of yours whatsoever. The audacity, to cry about losing his family home when he has no issues sleeping with his employees."

"How do you know?"

"By the way she was looking at him and well... they often shared the same hotel room, thinking nobody would notice or care. I didn't actually, care but I notice these things. Professional habit. Now calm down. It's okay. Breathe. In, out."

That was a really weak and dumb outburst, Roxi. Get your shit together.

"I am ok," I say in the end when I finally get myself to step away from the hug. It has been a long time since someone gave me a hug like this. I guess since I moved to Italy.

"Food?"

"Mhm," I nod and smile and this time it's genuine. "Where are we going?"

"To my ancestors' fabulous dining room because Grampa is at a business meeting and it's actually a nice view."

"Where did you shower?"

"Why the question? This fabulous mansion has a lot of rooms and bathrooms. I thought you would be hungry and would want to speed up the process since you most likely didn't eat anything yesterday after breakfast. I have to see some friends today. I am not sure what is worse, to let you stay here or to take you with me."

There is no need to pounder; since I probably need to repeat the asking favours part tonight it might help if we spend time together and I am nice and compliant.

"Take me with you. Why wouldn't it, if they are friends?"

"Well, because they are dangerous."

"Are all your friends criminals?"

"No, not all but many."

"You seem to have a very exciting life, Marco," I say and try to smile sweetly or what I think looks good on me.

"Exciting does not even scratch the surface. Ups..." he says, raising an eyebrow at his vibrating phone.

He turns slightly away to answer it.

The fuck... What language is that? It sounds like Chinese. Intrigued I continue listening without understanding anything.

"What was that?"

"An invitation to lunch. For... right now. Do you mind if we skip breakfast? It's anyway past noon. My friend Yamato is going to pick us up any minute."

"Okaaay."

"Do you like sushi or ramen?"

"I couldn't tell. I never tried."

"How come? You are certainly not a picky eater if you ate cereals with water."

"Well, I have been out to a restaurant to eat exactly twice in the past five years. And before that, I was once at a Japanese restaurant with my ex and he was an ass making fun of me because I didn't know how to use those sticks. I still don't and sushi sucks."

It looks like he tries to suppress laughter as he quite often seems to do.

"Sushi is an acquired taste. And I can teach you to use chopsticks. It just requires some practice. I hated it too at first, so I understand."

"And who taught you?"

"Hitomi, Yamato's sister," he says and a fleeting, unidentified feeling flies over his face.

We walk towards the garage and my assumption is that this Yamato guy is going to pick us up from there or whatever.

"Is there something I need to know about this guy? As in what not to do or say?"

"My goodness. I am tempted to hope they will speak Japanese and you will only have to look pretty and watch, even if that would be boring and uncomfortable for you."

"Why is that?"

"Because I haven't seen Yamato in a long time. I don't know how the years have changed him and I don't know what he wants or if he has a hidden agenda."

"So you don't really trust him, which means you aren't actually friends. Do you trust any of your gangster friends?"

He thinks for a minute or two. I didn't think this was such a difficult question.

"Hmm, maybe one. But he isn't really a gangster."

"Well hold on to that one; the others are not your friends, they are only dangerous acquaintances."

"We need to talk later about dangerous acquaintances."

A black Mercedes enters the garage and Marco opens the door for me. The driver says something to Marco in Japanese and he seems slightly displeased.

"Look, apparently Yamato wants to have a tea ceremony. Since you are not prepared just do what I am doing."

Ok weird.

"I saw that once on TV. Will I be judged for my every move?"

"Probably. But it's okay, I don't care what Yamato will think about you."

"Refreshing," I whisper more to myself. Strangely, memories from my relationship with Bogdan invade my mind. He always cared what his friends or family thought. Not that it's wrong but I always felt a lot of performance anxiety and sometimes it led to embarrassing myself.

The Roman outskirts are unfolding beautifully before my eyes. And like every time when I see something beautiful I remember I want to kill Ivan.

"Why did you break up with your ex?" he asks.

I didn't see this one coming and I have to think a bit about what to answer.

"I have changed and we grew apart," I answer and sigh. The sigh was really not necessary, Roxi.

He doesn't answer anything.

This Yamato guy seems to live in a modern villa with a big garden on the outskirts of Rome.

And one of these guys is probably him, I think when I see the people that are expecting us at the entrance of the house: two men, that look alike, probably siblings, and two women, one of them white.

They are all good-looking and dressed in traditional garments, even the white girl. It's also interesting how for each of them the edge of a different but very skillfully done tattoo is peaking out from under the long sleeves when they shake my hand western style.

In front of Marco, they bow and so does he.

"Go with Erica and Sayuri. They will dress you in a kimono and we meet after. Okay?" he says smiling apologetically.

The look on my face might be slightly awkward and a bit frightened but I just go with it.

"It is interesting meeting you," says probably Erica, the white girl.

She is a real eye-catcher look-wise: light auburn, waist-long hair, bright blue eyes, not much taller than me and slightly curvy. She is definitely a woman that does not pass unnoticed.

"Likewise," I say smiling nervously.

"Can you please take off your dress? We will help you with the kimono."

"Sure." Let's make the situation a bit more awkward.

The other girl does not say anything but I feel her eyes on me, heavy and burning, moving from my legs to my torso and stopping on most likely the scars on my right shoulder. Fuck you, Ivan.

She walks over and touches them and I feel really uncomfortable. Then she says something in Japanese.

"What did she say?" I ask the other girl.

"That you have beautiful skin and the scars damaged an almost perfect canvas."

Marco definitely has weird friends. I don't know what to answer so I just shrug but the uncomfortable feeling of the woman's eyes on me follows me further on. She is also beautiful but unlike Erica, she is also damn frightening.

This tea ceremony thing is awkward too. Everyone looks so stern and this sitting position is slightly uncomfortable.

I try my best to do what everyone else is doing but once I almost dropped the little ceramic cup because my hand was shaking nervously.

Marco seems, however, to really rock this awkward thing. I wonder how many times he did this.

The damn green tea also makes me jittery.

After that, we move to another room and a lot of Japanese food is placed before us and the damn sticks.

"Pick up the first chopstick and place it between where your index finger and thumb connect. This one is the static one. It's similar to how you hold a pen, but a bit lower. Grip the second chopstick with your index finger and thumb. This is the stick that moves," he explains calmly placing the sticks between my fingers.

It does not work frictionless but at least it's not a disaster as last time and that okonomiaki thing is to my liking.

Among all that, he leans over casually and presses a kiss on my cheek.
"You are doing great, Pebbles. Relax. Thank you for suffering through it."

Meh. I wanted to be pissy but now I feel a bit bad. Marco, you're weird. And weirdly nice sometimes. Most of the time. With me... always.

Everyone is speaking Japanese so I just stare out the window and feel misplaced. Whatever, I have been through way worse things lately.

Erica notices at some point and starts asking me Smalltalk stuff: how I like Rome, how I find the weather. I answer politely and keep on feeling awkward.

"How did you and Marco meet?"

Oh. I should have seen that one coming. Come on, say something.

"I uh worked for his brother."

"So you know Stefano too?"

Unfortunately.

Luckily the conversation does not go further because Marco and Yamato stand up and start taking the upper part of the garment off.

"What are they doing?" I ask confused.

"Swordfight play," answers Erica simply. "It's a hobby. They used to do that a lot when they were younger."

Younger. Hmm.

My attention is captured by the immense tattoo that is spread all over Yamato's torso and arms. It's a huge; a very skillfully drawn dragon with several other elements along it like flowers, swords, and inscriptions. It's beautiful. Yamato is a walking work of art, how his lean muscles make the dragon that coils up his back move with each of his strokes.

"Wow, the tattoo is impressive."

Erica doesn't reply, she just says something to Sayuri in Japanese.

"Sayuri is thanking you for the compliment."

"She did that?"

"Yes. It's called a horimomo. It's an old art."

"Definitely an art. What the fuck are they doing? Are those real swords?"

"Yes but don't worry, they know what they are doing. They won't kill each other.  Yamato wants Marco very much alive."

That is not the impression that I get. It's a damn show and my heartbeats fasten unwillingly. And Marco seems... angry. I rarely saw him angry. Something is not right here.

Oh my freaking God. What if Yamato kills him? What is going to happen to me?

Marco... Please don't die.

If my life did not depend on it a little bit the fight would be quite exciting, how the blades kling like in movies.

Yamato's passive expression shows a frown now. That's somehow strange. He is disturbed by something. What is he looking at? That however seems to give Marco an advantage to win their mock fight.

Yamato frowns deeper and then he suddenly smiles and they shake hands. Men are weird.

When Marco turns around, I see what Yamato was frowning at. It's a weird pendant I didn't notice before. Ok... That seems somehow important and disturbing, like his abs that I can't stop looking at. Stop being weird, Roxi.

Are we going to have sex tonight? Oh shit, I should not think that. Too late, I feel the blush creeping up. 

Would that be so bad? Stop it, Roxi.

After that, we leave shortly and Marco is unusually quiet on the drive back.

Should I ask what's wrong? Should I care?

The door to his room closes with a thud and I feel incredibly uncomfortable. I should say something. I should try to initiate something but somehow it doesn't work like the evening before. It's not that he isn't appealing. That's really not the case. It just feels strange.

I let myself fall on the mattress and he enters the bathroom. Is he also uncomfortable? I hear the shower and relax a bit. 

It seems I have dozed off. There is weight on the mattress and I shriek up.

"I am sorry I startled you. We need to talk." His voice is soft but a bit stern.

Sighing I turn around and kneel on the mattress facing him. He takes my hands into his.

"And now, Roxi, tell me who The White Russian is and what exactly he did to you. I suggest you start at the beginning."

"You remember ..."

He smiles mischievously and sad at the same time.

"You made it... memorable. I mean I have told only once in my life to someone that I am theirs to command."

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Ups, this came out longer than expected.

Prepare for some love. ❤️