DAYS OF LUST WITH THE MAFIA BOSS

a's P

ll I could see as I kept my eyes shut, dreading what would happen in the nex

scurrying across the floors as they rushed to get ready for work, did not exist anym

y thirteen years ago. I was ten at the time when the fatal car accident took place and was left t

dy and my stream of consciousness halted as my eyes shot open. I turned my h

float aimlessly around my room in the rays of sunlight. The sound of motorists, in the bustling city

overbearing and I could no longer live in a house that I used to call a home. I was in pain and felt hopeless, but I was

elf again, so I made the decision to move out of T

ome and receive a degree in art history. After graduating, I applied for a job at Il Museo Massimo and late

mirror. When I looked up at my reflection all I could see was a younger version of my mother. I had her

ched the corner of her deep blue eyes came flooding back. This was one feature that I did

eshen up. I slid on a black pencil skirt then proceeded to tuck in a white button-up blouse before clasping a

engraved into it and enclosed the pictures of my parents from when they were infants. Very rarely do I

t the stone covered ground as I found myself walking towards the streets of Rome. Sampietrini; the name of the type of pavement found

e art and intricate details that were displayed throughout Rome. The ci

the front entrance and pulled open th

autifully constructed by an esteemed architect, under the name of Massim

onist greeted me, pulling

d, the new trainee who will

y parents were from Greece, my surname is of Greek origin,

twenty minutes." She stood from her desk and I soon followed her

. Sounds like a name you wou

ls. The natural sunlight radiating through the windows had casted shadows upon the meticulously carved marble sculptures.

si Hermes, and the sculpture I admired most, the Girl from Anzio. My observations were interrupted

nd glanced at her name b

ght smile and then quietly l

with me again but this

to a man who sat tall and proper, and his hair gleamed of golden blond as it was caught in the sunlight. He was a for

he large glass table in the center of the room. I fleetingly examined the seating arrangement a

look he is giving me, I thought to myself while I stood here like a complete i

bservant man. Mimicking his posture, I placed my hands onto the table, straighte

sense of nervousness in his presence, but I sighed, shaking

im to shake, internally cringing and detesting myself for

while he examined me carefully. My hand still dangled awkwardly within the tens

ts of being cordial with this person. Well, we are in Italy, idiota. My m

ise and tried to recall the basic Italian tha

o, mi chi

e as he leaned over the table an

first time, Ms. Olivia

ent that I could not seem to identify. I looked at him, my mouth agape wi

oom opened. An old man with a podgy body, which I am assuming is Mr. Smith,

y and expe

seemed to disregard my presence as he directly lo

t in a raspy Italian accent b

d, and without hesitance at that, as I stared and questioned his swift behavior. I furrowed my eyebro

g for us. I am looking forward to seeing you use yo

Mr. Smith." I shook his han

as you two are new here. Patrick will not be working along y

utside. While we walked throughout the gallery my eyes swept across the num

crevice, and detail that the sculptures had to offer. The voice of Mr. Smith, introducing

ame badge like the other employees, and the doors have yet to open

circled around a statue with a stare so stern and solemn. My gaze trailed from the sculpture to his presence, his hand

, and his wavy short hair glimmered a dark chocolate color under the fluorescent lights. His eyes were the darke

ature - domineering, and his face was

ring, I thoug

isoner under his gaze. I felt my cheeks redden and bit my bottom lip as I quickly turned the other direction, not wanting