Donato entered the room huffing, his irritation overflowing. He stopped in the middle of the closet as Fiorella struggled to take off her dress because of her immobilized hand.
"What was that story downstairs, Fiorella?" he snapped. "Paolo said he paid for your studies? We got married when you were in the third semester, I paid for your college and your postgraduate degree! I signed the invoices personally!"
Fiorella stopped what she was doing and looked at him with an icy calm.
"You didn't pay, just like I didn't have soldiers, a driver, or your health insurance. You may have signed papers, but the money never reached its destination. It was the Florentinos who ensured I graduated."
Donato opened his mouth, but she interrupted him, taking a step forward.
"Do you know why you didn't notice? Because you know nothing about me, absolutely nothing. Want to test it?" She stared at him. "What's my favorite food?"
Donato crossed his arms, confident.
"Why, it's obviously that risotto ai frutti di mare that you always make with such care."
"Wrong. I detest seafood, the smell makes me nauseous. I make it because it's your favorite dish, and you never asked me if I wanted something else. My favorite food is pasta alla norma."
Donato frowned, his discomfort growing.
"Well... then, what's my favorite book?" she insisted.
"You like poetry," he replied quickly. "Those hardcover books that sit on the coffee table."
"That's decoration, I've never read any of those. My favorite books are Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, I love fantasy."
Donato let out a nervous laugh.
"Fantasy? That's kid stuff and movies? You're always watching those romances on television..."
"I watch them because that's what you let me get away with, if I could choose, I'd watch horror. And what's my favorite video game?"
Donato sighed with boredom.
"Game? Fiorella, you don't like video games. You always say it's a waste of time and that grown men shouldn't be in front of a screen."
Fiorella felt a pang in her chest.
"That's Alessa, she's the one who says that to you, and you believe her."
She walked to the dresser, opened the bottom drawer, and pulled out a special edition Nintendo Switch. She turned it on, and the light from the screen illuminated her face.
"I play in secret every time you go out for your nights out. My favorites are Resident Evil and Call of Duty. I like shooting zombies. I like adrenaline, something I've never been allowed to have in this life with you."
Donato stood still. He also loved video games; he spent hours in the shooting simulator in his office, but he had never invited his wife, convinced by Alessa's words that Fiorella would find it a "childish barbarity". Seeing the console in her hands was like taking a punch of reality. He didn't know the woman he slept with.
Not knowing what to say, he began to undress. He stood completely naked and lay down on the bed, pulling Fiorella close with his usual possessiveness.
"Don't squeeze me," she murmured, her body rigid. "My arm hurts."
"But, Fiorella... we always sleep like this," he grumbled, his voice muffled. "I can't sleep any other way."
"I just asked you not to squeeze me," she repeated, her voice tired.
Donato relaxed his arm but didn't let go of her. He buried his face in her neck, inhaling the vanilla scent he loved so much but never had the courage to compliment. In the silence of the room, he realized that he loved the scent, but he was a stranger to its owner.
Sunday started strangely. Donato didn't go to the office; he stayed in the room, watching Fiorella play with the Nintendo Switch. The silence was uncomfortable, until he couldn't take it anymore.
"Give me one of those controllers," he grumbled, sitting next to her. "I doubt you're as good as you say."
They put on Mario Kart. Donato thought it would be easy, but in ten minutes he had already been hit by three green shells and one blue one. Fiorella, even with her immobilized finger and bandaged arm, drove with surgical precision.
"Damn it, Donato! You're too slow," she laughed, skidding into a perfect curve.
Donato clenched his jaw, but what bothered him most wasn't the imminent defeat.
"What did you call me?" he asked, dropping the controller when the screen announced her victory.
"Donato. It's your name, isn't it?"
He felt a pang in his chest. He missed the "love", the "my Don", that devotion that he had always despised but now realized was his oxygen. Without saying anything, he pulled her by the waist, lifting her and placing her sitting on his lap, facing him.
"What are you doing?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady, even though the contact made her heart race.
"You called me love until yesterday," he said, his voice husky, his large hands holding her hips firmly. "Now it's just 'Donato'? I don't like that."
"Respect is earned, Donato. You yourself said that in the office, remember?" She stared at him, the coldness still present in her eyes. "'Love' is for those who care. 'Donato' is for the man who leaves me hungry to comfort another."
He lowered his head, hiding his face in her shoulder.
"I'm an idiot, I know. But you play this crap better than me even when you're all broken. That should count some points in my favor for letting you win."
"Letting me?" She let out a genuine laugh. "I beat you legitimately."
For a brief moment, the room didn't seem like a luxury prison. There was a trace of lightness in the air, a glimpse of what their marriage could have been if Alessa's lies hadn't been in the middle. Donato began to trail kisses down her neck, up to her jaw, seeking the lips he had so neglected.
But the moment was brutally interrupted. The bedroom door was opened without knocking.
Lucas and Bruno Florentino entered, both with somber expressions and visible guns in their holsters. Fiorella tried to get off Donato's lap quickly, but he held her for another second, marking territory in front of her brother and advisor.
"What the hell is this? Does no one knock on my door anymore?" Donato roared, his fury returning instantly.
"The port of Catania was invaded, Donato," Lucas said, ignoring his sister's state. "The Russian arms shipment was intercepted by the police. We have three soldiers dead and half the cargo seized."
Bruno took a step forward, his eyes fixed on Fiorella with concern before looking at Donato.
"It wasn't an accident, Don. Someone gave the exact coordinates of the time and dock. We have a rat in the organization, and the loss is millions."
Donato felt his blood boil. The bubble of peace with Fiorella burst. He placed her aside on the bed and stood up, putting on his shirt with violent movements.
"Prepare the cars," Donato ordered, his Don voice taking control. "If there's a rat, I'll find him and I'll tear his skin off while he's still breathing."
He stopped at the door and looked at Fiorella over his shoulder. The "husband" look was gone, replaced by the ice of the Cosa Nostra leader.
"Stay home, don't go out for anything."
When the door slammed shut, Fiorella looked at the Nintendo Switch forgotten on the sheet. The game was over, and the real life, bloody and ruthless, was back.
The port of Catania was under a thick fog. The mood was one of defeat: half of Viktor Sokolov's shipment had already been taken or seized, and Donato was there to understand how the "rat" managed to give the exact coordinates to the police and looters.
"Half of my uncle's weapons are gone, Lucas! How did no one see the movement?" Donato roared, striding among the remaining containers.
But the silence of the port was broken by a metallic crack. From atop the cranes, mercenaries began to open fire. The goal was no longer the already depleted cargo, the goal was the execution of whoever was left.
Bruno Florentino reacted by instinct, drawing his gun and pulling Donato behind a heavy forklift. In the middle of the shooting, Bruno froze. He watched Lucas. Fiorella's brother didn't run for cover. He walked calmly among the bullets that ricocheted off the ground.
"Lucas, get down, damn it!" Bruno shouted.
But Lucas didn't draw his gun. Bruno realized, with a cold hatred rising up his spine, that the mercenaries passed by Lucas as if he were an ally. They weren't aiming at him. Lucas was at the center of the hell, just watching.
"Donato! Lucas is the rat!" Bruno shouted. "The henchmen are ignoring him!"
Before Donato could look, two shots hit Bruno squarely in the chest. The impact was violent, throwing him against the asphalt.
"BRUNO!" Donato yelled, seeing his friend fall.
But Bruno gasped, the excruciating pain in his ribs causing him to lose his breath, but without blood. He opened his jacket, revealing the polymer weave of the Florentino's special suit.
"I'm okay... the suit held... but they don't want the weapons, Donato! They want us!" Bruno shouted, realizing that the theft of half the cargo was just bait to bring them there.
In the mansion, Fiorella felt the ground disappear as she read the encrypted message on her cell phone:
"I know the truth that you and the Florentinos hide from the world. Blood speaks louder than the surname, Fiorella. Today, your real brother dies at the port. The Florentino lineage ends in ashes."
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