Page 53 of Christmas with the Mafia
NICO
As we headtoward my suite of rooms, I curse my heritage. All around me are decadence, fine living and rage. I have never felt comfortable here. It’s not a family home, merely a statement and a reminder of everything that’s wrong about our lives. I prefer my apartment, probably because my family isn’t there, and I wonder if that will ever change.
“Your, um, family is nice.”
Regina is scurrying to keep up with me, and I huff, “If you say so.”
“Well, I love your mom.”
I shake my head, wondering if Regina is slightly mad.
“I mean, she is so warm and welcoming, and I can’t wait for her to show me her tapestries.”
I stop and face her with surprise. “She told you about her tapestries.”
“Yes, and she asked me to call her Sophia and told me she was glad you had found me. You know, she’s way nicer than my mother, to be honest.”
I am stunned. Mom barely speaks, let alone offers any personal insight into her hobbies. I must be missing something because cozy chats over coffee in the kitchen are definitely not my mother’s style. I say nothing and head up the staircase, Regina attempting to keep up with me, and as we head toward my suite of rooms, she says breathlessly, “I love your home, but I’ll need a guidebook. Seriously, Nico, I am bound to get lost in here.”
“Go nowhere without me by your side.”
“That’s a little controlling of you if you don’t mind my saying so.”
“Controlling?” I stop once again and stare at her in surprise.
“Yes, as I told your mom, I don’t like to be controlled. After all, I’m a businesswoman, Nico, and I make my own choices in life.”
“You told my mother that?”
“Yes. She asked me if it would be a problem, and of course I said yes.”
My mind is racing because what else did my mother ask her?
We carry on and soon reach the sanctuary of my personal space away from my family, and as I head inside, Regina gasps, “What is this?”
“My suite.”
I shrug out of my jacket and drop it onto the dark gray, low-slung couch, draped with brown fur throws and heaped full of matching cushions.
“Does your family have shares in chandeliers?”
Regina points to the one dominating the ceiling, and Ichuckle softly. “They should; Mom adores them, and you will find them in every room.”
She shakes her head as she stares at a bedroom that I have disregarded as normal over the years, but seeing it through her eyes and picturing her condo, I experience a moment’s discomfort. I am dragging Regina into a world she doesn’t understand. A place not many get to see, and it must be a lot to deal with.
Picturing Desiree in her place reminds me she would take this as her right. Demanding the best and unappreciative of it, disregarding the finer side of living while she plots how to control it.
“I’m not gonna lie, Nico, I could live in this room. I mean, who has a real fire burning in the grate of an oversized marble fireplace? Then there’s your bed. I could lose myself in that and not surface for a week. I could vacation in that bed alone.”
She stands as if frozen and gazes around her in awe.
“Look at the size of that television on the wall above the fireplace. Doesn’t the fire melt the wires or something? I mean, impressive but surely impractical.”
She’s babbling now, and I detect the nerves in her vocal cords.
Regina is well out of her comfort zone, and that is not good. She must fit in here as if she has every right, and so I take her hand and lead her to the bed, sitting down with her beside me and say softly, “This is no different to your world only bigger with shinier things. It’s all made up of personal choices based on how much money you have. Your home is impressive because it reflects your choices. If anything, it’s better than this one because you selected every piece of it.”
I wave my hand at the luxury surrounding us. “All of this was chosen by a designer. My mother briefed her team on what she hoped to achieve, and they made the dream a reality. Everything in here is impersonal. There are no photographs, no treasures bought from travelling or trophies earned from childhood. It may as well be a hotel room for all the personality it has, and yet your condo is straining under memories, loving choices and thought.”
