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4- Revelations

GIULLIA SANTORI’S POV

After that striking event, he took me back home, and I looked at his face and body, noticing that he didn't have many injuries. He was practically unscathed. They won that battle with excellence, and I was ecstatic about the new experience I had lived through.

He parks the car in front of my house, and we remain seated momentarily. Vittorio seems unsure of what to say while I'm still processing everything I witnessed. What makes me even more confused is that I never felt frightened at any moment.

"So, you're the Mafia leader?" I look at him.

"That's what they say. In Milan, at least..." he responds with humor.

I also ended up laughing at his response, surprised that instead of being terrified by everything I had discovered that night, I felt an interest in learning more about that dark world, more about this mysterious man's life.

"How did you know I like the piano so much? Especially Beethoven," I ask curiously.

"I know everything about you—where you're from, where your parents live, and where you went to college. I just haven't figured out your favorite food yet," he jokes.

"Pasta, like a typical Italian," I'm at ease in his presence.

"It would be strange if otherwise," he smiles at me again.

I was fascinated by how he quickly transitioned between extremes. Just a short while ago, his cruel, violent side was evident, capable of killing anyone who dared challenge his leadership. Now, he appears light-hearted, and incredibly, both sides of him have captured my attention.

"I'll come to pick you up tomorrow in the early evening," he doesn't look away. "Don't worry, it's not a confrontation like today."

I laugh at his statements, bite my lip, and look away momentarily. Then I realize he's inviting me out, and I feel my face flush. I've never done this before; I've always focused so much on my studies that I've distanced myself from this personal aspect.

"Even if it were another confrontation, I'd love to go!" I smile, playfully provoking him. "All right, I'll be waiting for you. Good night!"

I don't look into his eyes again, feeling embarrassed at that moment for accepting his invitation. I get out of the car and walk towards my house. As usual, I glance back again, and he's still motionless, looking in my direction. He only leaves when I'm safely inside my house, even though two of his subordinates are taking care of it.

Upon entering, fatigue washes over me; I'm exhausted from the eventful day. I can't wait to fall into bed and rest, as tomorrow will be a good day. I will get to enjoy Vittorio's company again. I feel safe around him.


I woke up excited that morning. I don't have classes, so I can tidy up the house. On weekends, I stay at home and organize everything. My life isn't exciting at all.

I put effort into every detail. Even with a busy mind, I can't help but remember the previous night. Just a few days ago, I was just a girl with a monotonous life, and now I'm getting to know an exciting side of life—the adrenaline of danger.

I take advantage of the afternoon to catch up on some pending work. As the appointed time by him approaches, I decide to get ready to go out. I look at my clothes in the closet and notice that most are jeans, sweatshirts, etc. I take a deep breath, trying to contain my nervousness. Eventually, I found a navy blue dress with a modest neckline, loose sleeves, and a slight cinching at the waist. I look in the mirror and feel hesitant. I struggle with choosing clothes; I don't like things that cling to my body, and I become timid at the thought of drawing too much attention from people around me. I put on a black sandal with a not-too-high heel, contemplate taking it off right away, and putting on jeans and a sweatshirt instead, but I give up on that idea.

The appointed time arrives, and I hear a car horn that grabs my attention. I rush to the window, looking beyond the glass. Vittorio is there in his luxurious car. I descend in a hurry, eager to be close to him again. I lock the door, nervous; I even end up dropping the keys and eventually manage to lock it, heading towards him.

Vittorio is standing beside the car with the passenger door open. I get in immediately, settling into that comfortable leather seat, and he closes the door, circling the car, visibly hurried to get comfortable in his driver's seat.

"You look beautiful," he compliments.

His eyes trailed over my body, and I noticed that intense gaze. My face instantly flushed, and I looked away from his eyes. I knew I shouldn't have worn that outfit.

Curiosity is already starting to make butterflies flutter in my stomach. Would we head to a gang shootout or a meeting involving obscure business? This brings back the adrenaline rush I loved feeling the night before.

He starts the car, and I simply observe as the journey begins. I sneak a sideways glance; he looks handsome in his usual dark attire. I think black has become my favorite color lately. It makes him very attractive.

"Can I ask you a question?" I break the silence.

"Another one, I presume?" he speaks playfully. "Sure, go ahead."

"Have you... killed people?" I ask awkwardly.

"Of course I have," he responds calmly.

That makes me feel a mix of emotions; his mafia-like demeanor somehow becomes charming. But it's wrong; it's not as good as it seems. It means he has taken lives that he was cold enough to do that.

"But I don't kill innocent people. That goes against all my principles. Even in crime, things should be fair," he explains, attentive to the road.

I take a deep breath and absorb his explanation; at least there's something good about it... He has principles.

"I must admit that this is..." I try to speak.

"Scary?" he asks, glancing at me briefly.

"I'm searching for the right word, but... I can't find it. It's not exactly scary," I answer honestly.

"I'm glad you're not afraid to be with me, yet at the same time, wary."

I notice that his gaze becomes sad. He looks ahead attentively, avoiding eye contact at the moment. He seems to feel guilty.

In a few minutes, we arrive at a theater. Several people are entering, all elegant, wearing jewelry and luxurious dresses. I'm just a girl in my plain dress and medium-heeled sandals, lacking refinement.

"I'm not up to this, Vittorio," I explain nervously.

"It's not you who's not up to this place. Let's go!" he says as he gets out of the car.

Opening the door for me, we walk to the entrance. A man in a suit greets us, inviting us to follow him, and we do. In no time, we reach a private box above the other spectators; it's exclusive, and only the two of us are there. I gaze at the stage, observing the wine-colored curtain covering the performance area. I am still determining what the attraction is about, but I'm excited.

When the curtains part, I widen my eyes. There's an incredible piano on stage, accompanied by well-planned lighting, and to my surprise, Hans Zimmer, one of the world's best pianists, steps onto the stage for a performance.

"Oh my God... I, I can't believe it!" I look at Vittorio.

"You need to get out of that house a little," he suppresses a laugh.

He had prepared this surprise, bringing me here for something I loved the most. The musician starts playing the piano keys, and the perfect melody fills the air. I close my eyes a few times as if I were playing the instrument myself. I'm happy and flattered by his invitation.

I notice Vittorio observing me. I feel my face blush, offering a shy smile.

"Go on, you look beautiful," he compliments.

"I might start believing that!" I say happily.

"You should have believed it a long time ago."

His statement adds intensity to the atmosphere between us as the piano's sound surrounds us.

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