365 Days

by Blanka Lipinska

  I woke up curled into a ball, still wearing the fluffy white bathrobe. It was dark outside. I wasn’t sure if it was the same horrible night, or maybe the next one.

  I heard hushed male voices from the garden, so I went to the balcony. I couldn’t see anyone. The sounds were too quiet for the men to be anywhere close by. Something must be happening on the other side of the property, I thought. Reluctantly, I grabbed the door handle to check if I was free to go. The door was open, and I crossed the threshold, only to spend a long while thinking whether to continue or retreat back into the room. My curiosity won that struggle and I headed down a long hallway, in the direction of the voices. It was a hot and breezy August night. The drapes in the windows fluttered in the breeze that smelled of the sea. The house was dark and calm. I wondered how it looked by day. Without Domenico, I couldn’t find my way through the tangled corridors. In just a short while, I was hopelessly lost. The only thing I navigated by were the voices. They were growing louder with each step I took. Passing through a half-open door, I found myself in an enormous hall with gigantic windows overlooking the driveway. I approached the pane of glass and leaned against the thick, tall frame, trying to hide behind it.

  In the dark, I could see Massimo and several other people. There was a man kneeling before them shouting something in Italian. His expression suggested terror and panic as he stared wide-eyed at the Man in Black. Massimo was standing at ease, his hands in the pockets of his casual pants. He was fixing the pleading man with an icy stare, waiting for him to finish. As soon as he did, Massimo impassively uttered a short sentence or two, took out his gun, and shot the man in the head. The victim’s body flopped to the stone driveway.

  I yelped and put my hands to my mouth to stop myself from screaming. It was no use. Massimo heard me, turned away from the body, and looked straight at me. His stare was cold and emotionless, as if killing a man was nothing to him. He grabbed the silencer of his gun and passed the weapon to one of the men standing next to him. I slumped to the floor.

  I couldn’t breathe. I gasped for air. My heart was thumping, but its rhythm was quickly slowing and so was the pumping of blood in my head. I saw darkness and my stomach cramped, signaling the inevitable release of the champagne I had drunk earlier. With trembling hands, I tried untying the belt of the bathrobe that seemed to constrict me so tightly I could barely breathe. I had witnessed the death of a human being. In my head, I could see the scene of the execution replaying over and over again. The image made me choke, my lungs completely void of air. I let it go, succumbed to the feeling, stopped fighting. During the last moments of consciousness, I felt the belt of the bathrobe loosening and someone’s fingers touching my neck, searching for a pulse. One hand slid under my back and went up, passing my neck and holding my head. Another supported my legs. I felt movement. I wanted to open my eyes but couldn’t lift my eyelids.

  There were sounds around me, but only one clear enough to hear, “Breathe, Laura.”

  That accent. I knew it was Massimo with his arms around me. The arms of a man who had killed just a moment before. He took me to my room, kicking the door open. I felt him laying me down on the bed. I was still struggling to breathe. My heaving breath was getting less chaotic and panicked, but I still couldn’t inhale deeply. There was still too little oxygen.

  Massimo opened my mouth with one hand and slid a pill under my tongue.

  “Don’t be afraid, darling girl. It’s heart medicine. The doctor left it in case of just such a situation.”

  A while later my breathing went back to normal. Oxygen finally got into my lungs and my heart steadied its rhythm. I sank into the sheets and fell into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER 3

  When I opened my eyes, it was day. I was lying in white sheets, wearing a T-shirt and briefs. I seemed to recall falling asleep with the bathrobe on… Had the Man in Black changed my clothes? In order to do that, he’d have to first remove the bathrobe. And that meant he had seen me naked. That thought wasn’t exactly pleasant, even though it had to be said that Massimo was as handsome as they got.

  The events of last night flitted before my eyes. I gasped in fear and pulled the duvet over my head. All this information—the 365 days he was giving me, my family, Martin’s betrayal, and the death of that man—was too much for one night.

  “It wasn’t me who changed your clothes,” I heard a muffled voice saying through the duvet.

  I slowly pulled it off and looked at the Man in Black. He was sitting in a grand armchair by the bed. This time, he was wearing a more casual outfit—gray joggers and a white tank top, accentuating the muscles of his wide shoulders and perfectly chiseled arms. He was barefoot, and his hair was in disarray.

  If not for the fact that he was looking so fresh and tempting, I’d have thought he had just woken up.

  “Maria, my cousin, did it,” he was saying. “I wasn’t even there. I promised you I won’t do anything without your consent, though I won’t pretend I wasn’t tempted to watch. Especially because you were unconscious, so defenseless. And I was sure you wouldn’t slap me in the face this time,” he said, raising his brows in amusement. I saw him smile for the first time. He looked carefree and happy. For him, the dramatic events of last night were already forgotten.

  I sat up and rested my head against the wooden headboard. Massimo, his roguish smile not disappearing, reclined in the armchair, crossed his legs, and waited for me to speak.

  “You killed a man,” I breathed, my eyes tearing up. “You shot him just like that. Without emotion, as if it was just another thing.”

  His eyes immediately lost their playfulness, and the smile vanished from his face, replaced with an unflinching mask of severity that I already knew.

  “He betrayed the family. I am its head, so he betrayed me.” Massimo leaned closer. “I told you, but apparently you thought I was joking. I do not tolerate defiance and insubordination, Laura. There is nothing as important as loyalty. You are not yet ready for all this, and you can’t ever be ready for what you saw yesterday.”

  He trailed off and stood up, walking over to the bed and sitting on its edge. He combed through my hair with a hand, as if checking if I was real. At some point, he slid his hand under my head and grabbed me by the hair, hard. He swung his leg over me and sat astride me, pinning me down. His breathing quickened, and his eyes flared with passion and animalistic ferocity. I went rigid with terror, and it must have shown on my face. Massimo saw it and he liked it.

  After the events of last night, I knew this man was no joke. If I wanted my family to be safe, I needed to accept his terms.

  Massimo clamped his hand even harder on the back of my head, trailing his nose across my face. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of my skin. I wanted to close my eyes to show him the depth of my contempt, to overcome my own fear, but I was hypnotized by the savagery of his gaze and couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was a beautiful man. Exactly my type. Black eyes, dark hair, large and full lips, a light stubble on his face, now delicately tickling my cheeks. And that body! Long, lean legs around my hips, strong and muscular arms, and a wide chest that I could see through the tight tank top.

  “I said I won’t do anything without your consent, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop myself after all,” he whispered, looking me in the eyes.

  He grabbed my hair and jerked my head back, pushing it into the pillow. I moaned softly. Massimo sucked in a gust of air, and then slowly and delicately inserted his right leg between my thighs. He rubbed against me with his manhood. I could feel it on my hip. He wanted me so bad. I, on the other hand, could only feel fear.

  “I want to have you, Laura. I need to have you whole…” He was trailing his nose along my face. “When you’re so fragile and helpless… I want you even more. I want to fuck you like nobody ever did before. I want you to feel pain and rapture. I want to be your last lover…”

  He was saying all this while his hips were rhythmically rubbing against me. I understood that the game I
was going to be a part of had just begun. I had nothing to lose. My options were to either spend the next 365 days fighting this man, which could only end in defeat, or learn the rules of the game and play it. Slowly, I lifted my hands above my head, resting them on the pillow, showing submission and defenselessness. Seeing that, the Man in Black let my hair go and intertwined his fingers with mine, pinning my hands to the bed.

  “That’s better,” he breathed.

  “I’m glad you understand me.”

  Massimo’s impressive cock was rubbing against my hip faster and harder. I could feel it slide over my tummy.

  “Do you want me?” I asked, lifting my head slightly, tracing my lower lip across his chin.

  He moaned, and before I could react, his tongue was already in my mouth, pushing itself in frantically, deep, in a desperate search for my own. His grip on my hands slackened and I could free my right arm. Engrossed by the kiss, he didn’t notice. I raised my right knee and pushed him away, simultaneously slapping him in the face with my free hand.

  “Is this the respect you said you’d show me?” I screamed. “I remember you saying something about waiting for my express consent instead of misinterpreting any perceived signs!”

  Massimo froze, and when he turned his head back to me, his eyes were calm and expressionless.

  “If you hit me one more time—”

  “What are you going to do? Kill me?” I barked before he could finish.

  He withdrew, sitting on the edge of the bed. For a while he just stared at me, and then suddenly he burst out in loud, clear, and completely sincere laughter. In that moment, he looked like a young boy. For all I knew he might have been one—I had no idea as to his real age, but in that instant, he looked younger than me.

  “How are you not Italian?” he asked. “This doesn’t feel like Slavic temperament.”

  “How many Slavic girls do you know?”

  “Oh, one is enough,” he replied, still mirthful, and jumped off the bed. He turned to me, smiling, and said, “This is going to be a great year, but I do have to learn to dodge faster. You caught me off guard this time, sweetheart.”

  He headed to the door, but before crossing the threshold, he stopped and shot me another glance.

  “Your things are here. Domenico arranged them in the closets. Not too many of them, but still, for someone who was supposed to be here only five days, you have a surprising amount of clothes. Not to mention shoes. We need to do something with your outfits, though. I’ll be back in the afternoon, and we’ll go buy you something new. Underwear and whatever else you’d like. This room is yours, unless you find another one you like more. The servants know who you are. Call Domenico if you need anything. The cars and drivers are at your disposal, though I’d prefer it if you didn’t travel alone. You will get a security detail. They will do their best not to look too conspicuous. I will give you your telephone and computer in the evening, but we’ll have to discuss some terms before I do that.”

  I stared at him, eyes wide, wondering what I was actually feeling. My thoughts were racing, and I couldn’t focus with the taste of Massimo’s mouth still on my lips. His penis was still erect, throbbing, and I couldn’t take my eyes off it. I think I had a crush on my captor… There was no way to know if it was my subconscious reaction to Martin’s betrayal, a need to take some kind of revenge, or else the desire to show Massimo just how tough I could be.

  Meanwhile, Massimo continued. “The residence has a private beach, Jet Skis, and motorboats, but you aren’t allowed to use them just yet. There is a pool in the garden. Domenico will show you around. He will be your personal assistant and translator if it comes to that. Some people don’t know English around here. I chose him for his great love of fashion. Besides, he’s about your age.”

  “How old are you?” I interrupted him. He let go of the door handle and leaned against the doorframe. “Shouldn’t godfathers be old guys?”

  Massimo narrowed his eyes and replied, keeping his stare fixed on me, “I am not capo di tutti capi. They are older, you’re right. I am a capofamiglia, or a don. But that is a long story. If you’re interested, I’ll tell you later.”

  He turned around and walked down the hallway until he vanished through one of the dozens of doors. I stayed still for a while longer, analyzing my predicament. Thinking about it felt exhausting, so I decided to keep myself busy. I had my first real chance to see the mansion in daylight. My room must have been at least 860 square feet and it had everything I could want. A great walk-in closet straight out of Sex and the City, for instance. Only nearly empty. The things I had taken with me to Sicily filled only about a hundredth of the gigantic room. The shoe shelves were empty, too. Most drawers only contained satin lining and nothing else. The place needed some filling.

  Aside from the walk-in closet, I also got an enormous bathroom—the one I had used during the night. I had been too shocked and dazed then to really take in the impressive room. The huge open shower had a steam sauna function and was lined with massage jets that looked like towel hangers. Inside the dressing table with the mirror, I was delighted to find cosmetics of all my favorite brands: Dior, YSL, Guerlain, Chanel, and lots of others. Bottles of perfume crowded the counter next to the sink and one of them was my beloved Lancôme Midnight Rose. At first I wondered how he knew, but he knew everything about me, so such mundane little details like my favorite perfume, which he must have found in my baggage, shouldn’t have been a mystery to him. I took a long, hot shower, washed my hair (it needed it desperately by that time), and went to the closet to choose something comfy to wear. It was at least eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit outside, so I selected a long, flowy, raspberry-colored bare-back dress and wedge-heeled sandals. I wanted to dry my hair, but before I finished dressing, it was already dry. I bound it into a casual bun and headed out to the hallway.

  The house looked a bit like the mansion from Dynasty, only more Italian flavored. It was gigantic and very impressive. Passing through dozens of rooms, I found more portraits of the woman from Massimo’s visions. They were beautiful, presenting me in various poses. I still couldn’t understand how he was able to depict me so closely without having seen me before.

  I went down to the garden, meeting no one on my way. I wondered where the servants were as I strolled the paths lined with meticulously pruned greenery. Finally, I stumbled on the entrance to the beach. There was a little dock there, with a beautiful white motorboat and several Jet Skis floating at the quay. I took my shoes off and stepped onto the boat. The keys to the ignition were right there, lying unguarded next to the steering wheel. For a moment I entertained the thought of breaking Massimo’s laws. As soon as I touched the key ring, I heard a voice from behind me.

  “I would prefer if you didn’t do that today.”

  I spun around, startled, and saw the young Italian.

  “Domenico! I just wanted to know if they fit…” I stammered with an idiotic grin on my face.

  “I can assure you they do. If you would like a little trip on the boat, we can arrange it after breakfast.”

  Food! Oh my God, when had I last eaten? I wasn’t sure how much time I had spent asleep. In fact, I didn’t have an inkling as to what day or hour it was. The thought of eating made my stomach rumble loudly. I was starving, but with all those conflicting emotions I had simply forgotten about it.

  With an expansive gesture, Domenico directed me to get off the boat, offered me a hand, and led me up the quay.

  “I allowed myself to prepare you breakfast in the garden. It’s not that hot today and I thought you’d enjoy it,” he said.

  Yeah, right, I thought. But eighty-six degrees wasn’t that hot around here, I realized. Why not eat outside after all?

  Domenico led me through the garden to a great terrace on the other side of the mansion. The view seemed familiar. My room had to be somewhere on this side of the house. There was a makeshift gazebo on the stone floor, closely resembling the enclosures at the restaurant where we had eaten the fir
st night. It had thick wooden supports that served as anchors for great sheets of sailcloth stretched overhead as protection from the sun. Beneath the gently waving roof, there was a long table made of the same wood as the supports, and a set of comfortable-looking chairs with white pillows.

  The breakfast was worthy of a queen, and my hunger had only intensified. There were platters of cheeses, olives, aromatic cold cuts, pancakes, fruit, eggs—everything I loved. I sat at the table and Domenico vanished. I was used to eating alone, but dealing with the heaps of delicious food would be all the more pleasant with someone to accompany me. A while later, the young man returned, carrying a bundle of newspapers.

  “I thought you might want to read today’s papers, ma’am.”

  Having said that, he turned away and walked into the villa.

  I glanced at the papers and realized they were all Polish—Rzeczpospolita, Wyborcza, a Polish issue of Vogue, and some British tabloids. I felt better immediately. I could at least read about the goings-on in my home country. Helping myself to all the delicacies and leafing through the papers, I wondered if for the next year this would be the only way I would read the news from Poland.

  Sometime later, I finished my breakfast. I had no strength to do anything taxing—I was too stuffed. Apparently, eating so much after several days of fasting was not the brightest idea. In the distance, in a remote corner of the garden, I noticed a large beach sofa in the shade of a canopy. It would be the perfect place to wait through the stomachache. I headed that way, taking the rest of the papers with me.

  I took my shoes off and crawled onto the soft couch, tossing the magazines next to me and making myself comfortable. The view from the sofa was amazing—small boats floated lazily on the sea, a motorboat was towing a parachute with two people enjoying the ride, and the azure water looked so inviting with the monumental rock formations jutting from the waves offering the promise of equally beautiful views below the surface. A cool breeze was blowing from the sea and all the sugar in my blood was making me drowsy. I allowed myself to recline deeper into the soft pillows.