Italian Psycho

Part 18) Whiskey and Knives

The midday sun shone through the single  large window behind the tub.

Romeo wrapped his arms around my torso covered in soap.

"Will you marry me?" His voice is calm in my ear.

I froze looking at my toes in the water. "We are married Romeo." I took his hand studying every groove and line in his palm.

"That's different. This time I'm asking you." His dark voice vibrates through me.

"Romeo-" I started to protest nervously.

"Just think about it Cecilia. Think about what I'm asking you. I have to take care of some business. I'll be back in two hours." He stepped out, drying his body with a towel.

"Ok." I replied mindlessly remaining in my spot.

He dried his hair and threw on a new pair of clothes, grabbing his new cell phone and wallet before leaving.

I was given a cell phone too but I wasn't allowed to call him on it. I sipped on a glass of whiskey in the tub unable to move. I tried my best to ignore my swirling head.

Our house in Monaco wasn't extremely large like our other houses, but it was very expensive. It included every modern day features I was willing to take advantage of.

Even watching tv in the bathtub. I found the remote pushing buttons until a flat screen slid down from the ceiling. It would be nice to clear my head and relax to some tv.

Eventually I found some American tv show for children about a sponge. Quite amusing for a while.

Watching the idiotic sponge could no longer busy my mind. My bottom lip started to tremble and I dropped the glass of whiskey in the tub.

Load wails poured out of me and I didn't know why. What had I just done? What had just happened? What did he just ask me?!

Who am I? I couldn't answer that question anymore. In the mafia I always had a purpose, even if it was to serve someone else. But now Romeo was giving me my own purpose and I just didn't have one.

I think he might let me go. If Romeo was falling in love with me he wouldn't keep me around.

On the other hand I didn't think Romeo was capable of love. He only wanted what he couldn't have. And once he had me that was it. Off to the slaughter house. Send a postcard of the glue factory.

I tried to make myself remember who he was. A murderer. I shivered at the crimes he's committed. The ones he did to my own family.

He was quite the fan of blood and gore. Back home they called Romeo the surgeon. More tears insued.

I cleaned myself off ignoring the ache between my legs. I changed into a short silky wrap dress throwing my hair up.

I poured myself another glass of whiskey with shaky hands downstairs in the kitchen. The empty cupboards mocked me looking for breakfast.

I found some grapes in the fridge and pancake mix in one of the cabinets. I bit my lip contemplating the disaster that was my cooking skills.

The pancakes could have been a little more done. Actually, a lot.

"Cecilia! I have a surprise for you." Romeo called opening the front door.

"You made pancakes." He exclaims finding me on my spot on the couch with a half cooked pancake in my mouth.

I froze listening to him carefully. He turned for the kitchen to find the rest of them.