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5- Mob girls

GIULLIA SANTORI’S POV

When the performance ends, we leave the theater, and he takes me back home again. I'm at a loss for words; these moments with him are amazing, allowing us to get to know each other better.

"Thank you so much for this; I'm... speechless," I'm euphoric.

"Another way to show my gratitude for saving my life," he asserts.

"How long are you going to keep thanking me?" I give a half-smile.

"I don't know, indefinitely."

"I..."

His phone rings; he immediately picks it up, looking at the screen. His expression changes instantly, and he answers the call promptly. I observe closely his serious demeanor, his clenched jaw, the tension returning. It is interesting how he can switch from a gentle expression to that of a mafia villain.

"How did you not manage to kill him? Damn it, you're useless. If anyone deserves a shot now, it's you," he shouts into the phone.

He says a few more things, shouting and using profanities. I remain still, not wanting to interfere in the situation.

"I don't want any failures; don't you dare disappoint me," he shouts before hanging up.

I realize his posture is that of a leader, his breathing heavy, showing his dissatisfaction with his employees' performance.

We arrive in front of my house; he parks the car and looks restless and contemplative. I bid him farewell, but unlike the previous times, he doesn't get out to open the door; he's looking at his phone, and I do it myself, saying "goodbye." He responds softly. I retreat to my house, and he speeds away, tires screeching loudly as he starts the engine. After that call, he changed completely. I wish that night could have ended differently, perhaps he would have stayed with me longer. Maybe I'm hoping for more than he can offer.


The next day, the beginning of the school week, is the cycle of classes again. Vittorio insists on picking me up and dropping me off at the end of the day. I've become accustomed to his presence; he's always courteous, making this a daily weekly routine. He always waits for me in the college parking lot.

This day wouldn't be any different. I walk calmly to where we always meet, tucking a few papers into my bag. I'm taken by surprise when a group of women surrounds me. I look around, startled by their sudden appearance, and they scrutinize me from head to toe.

"So, this is the slut?" one of them asks.

"That's her, a little insignificant thing," another looks at me disgustingly.

I don't understand anything at all and try to pass by them when I feel a shove from one of the women. I almost fall, struggling to maintain my balance.

"Aren't you ashamed of stealing another woman's man? You deserve a lesson, slut," she shoves me again.

I notice they're trying to provoke me to react, but I would never do that, especially since they're numerous and I don't understand what this is about. I hold the books in my hands, unsure what to do.

"How does someone as ridiculous as her get Vittorio's attention? He's so incredible," one of them asserts, irritated.

"Cat got your tongue, slut?" the blonde-haired woman yells.

Unexpectedly, I feel her grab my hair, which is tied in a ponytail as usual. I tilt my head, feeling a burning sensation on my scalp as she pulls. I've never been in a situation like this before. She raises her hand to slap me, but she stops abruptly. My eyes are closed; I feel her release my hair and open my eyes to find them frozen, their eyes wide, seemingly terrified by something.

"I'll slowly rip the hands off anyone who dares touch her again," Vittorio appears, and I see some of them flee hastily. The woman who was about to hit me remains motionless, her expression filled with panic. He approaches the girl and grabs her by the neck, squeezing tightly as she struggles to free herself, unable to utter a word. She's suffocating, her eyes wide open.

"You're going to regret what you did," he's furious.

I observe how he's completely out of control and is going to punish her. Even though they treated me aggressively, I don't want to be responsible for a tragedy; this could all be a misunderstanding. I touch his shoulders, trying to calm him down to prevent something worse from happening in the college parking lot. Luckily, at this time, there are not many people around.

"Please, Vittorio, don't do this... for my sake!" I plead.

He releases the woman's neck, and she falls to the ground, clutching her throat and coughing intensely, trying to catch her breath. I look at the scene, feeling terrible, even though I know it's not my fault that this is happening. Vittorio is panting, nervous, and he looks me up and down, concerned, analyzing if they managed to harm me. I can understand the situation at least a bit. They were subordinates to him, as they immediately obeyed and ran away from his presence. Somehow, I seem to be bothering them.

"Are you okay?" he asks, panting.

"I am," I respond confidently.

"Then let's go!"

We head towards his car for him to drop me off at home as usual. Once he opens the door, I get in and settle as always. I've become very used to this, which leaves me confused. But as soon as he sits in the driver's seat, I take the opportunity to clear up some doubts I need to know, even though I have a sense of them.

"Who are they?" I look at him.

"People who are part of my... work," he hesitates before saying the last word.

"Why do they say that I'm stealing you from someone else?" I'm embarrassed, but I need to know.

"It doesn't matter, Giulia," he becomes irritated.

"Of course it matters; I almost got beaten up!" I complain.

"I prevented it; you didn't get hurt... it doesn't matter!" he raises his voice, getting even more annoyed.

He starts the car, following the usual route back to my house. I look at him now and then and notice he's still tense from what happened. I can hear his heavy breathing, so I prefer to remain silent this time.

"There's a car race tonight, and I want to take you there; I'll be participating," he suddenly says.

This piques my curiosity. I've never seen a car race before, and Vittorio is always in his luxurious car. I can't imagine him in a sports car, or rather, I can imagine it, and he must be beautiful. This is good; it might help us forget what happened earlier. I don't want the incident in the parking lot to shake our casual encounters.

"I'd love to," I smile shyly.

"I hope so," he looks at me and smiles.

He seems lighter now. Talking about the race helped him calm down, and that's much better. Then, I recall an important piano lesson scheduled for that night. I ponder going back on his invitation, but I won't be able to refuse. The desire to be with him is even stronger. I'll try to make up for that piano lesson later, but I won't miss the race for anything.

He stops in front of my house as usual. I get out of the car, giving him a last glance in his direction. He looks at me with those emerald eyes and a smirk on his lips. I can't stop admiring him.

"See you later. One of my men will come to pick you up," he bids farewell.

I smile and walk towards my house, hearing the tires screech as he speeds away. This has become a habit.

During the afternoon, I worked on some college assignments. When I went to my room, I looked in the mirror and observed my reflection, feeling like a really plain girl. I remembered the words of those women. They were very different from me. Their low-cut clothes emphasized their ample cleavage, perfectly applied makeup, and well-groomed hair. I needed to at least be presentable as his guest at the race; I needed to have something nice to wear.

I take advantage of the afternoon, grabbing some savings and heading to a store, choosing something nice to wear that night. I hurry back home since time passes quickly. I wash my hair, and once it's dry, I curl it slightly to change my look.

When it's getting close to race time, I put on a black dress that's slightly fitted, a black leather jacket, and black sneakers. I look in the mirror; I'm not a girl who follows fashion trends, and I'm somewhat afraid of being too dressed up, but I like the result. To complete the look, I do light makeup to enhance my features. I'm ready, and at least I want to feel like I'm not inferior.

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