Page 141 of Beauty and the Mafia Boss

“We can,bambina. We can give her a story that brings her peace and helps her move forward.”

“I don't know if I want to do this, Vittorio.”

“You don't need to decide anything now. You have time,amore mio. You have all the time in the world,” he promises, and I believe it.

CHAPTER 69

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Vittorio Cataneo

The tension pounding my fingertips as I walk through the new facility, in the underground floors of Sagrada headquarters, is a new kind of self-inflicted poison.

I've always liked the feeling of anticipation, but walking slowly, analyzing the walls and every detail of the new construction is a decision that goes far beyond postponing the desired pleasure. My recent visit to Tizziano's tower inspired me, and perhaps it was my brother's almost childish pleasure in dedicating himself to what he does there, but I felt a little envious and decided I wanted something like that too.

However, while the underboss's space is an ascent toward the heavens, mine is a descent toward hell, it seemed appropriate. I reach the hallway that was my destination from the beginning, and the absence of odors makes my nose move. It's a matter of time, I tell myself as I close the distance between the last door, the only closed one, and me.

Plus, today specifically, it wouldn't be nice to have any annoying smells getting on my skin. I look down at myself, noticing the tuxedo on my body. My fiancée probably wouldn't want to marry a man who stinks of other people's piss.

My footsteps echo across the stone floor on purpose because I don't want to be the only one feeling anticipation. I asked themto keep the sound insulation disabled so that my arrival could be easily noticed today. When I place my finger on the fingerprint reader, the door opens, revealing a bright room, divided in half by a dark glass wall.

In front of me, a control panel is ready to execute various technological commands and behind it, there is a swivel chair. I was careful to dedicate a generator capable of powering a small city to just this room to ensure that, no matter the circumstances, it never becomes inoperative.

I give the necessary commands so that my passage beyond the glass wall is permitted and I put my hands in my pockets. Suddenly, I feel like whistling and on a rare occasion, I give in to the small pleasure.

Through a side door, I pass through the glass wall, and here my nose feels satisfied. The smell of sweat and fear permeates the practically empty and completely dark space. Sounds of muffled gasps fill my ears and I close my eyes, taking them in with indistinct pleasure before turning on the lights.

I walk around the small cylindrical structure in the middle of the room. The glass tube is just under eighty centimeters in circumference and runs from floor to ceiling.

I appreciate each step taken until my turn is complete and I stop in front of Massimo Coppeline, isolated from my presence by the transparent tube. With the right commands having been activated at the control table, despite the physical barrier, all the sounds, smells and lights permeate it.

I look down the man's naked body, covered in bruises, with burns, shallow and deep cuts, fractures of exposed bones that have already healed incorrectly, of course, completely deforming his body. We had so much fun over the last few weeks while my new space was being built.

“Ciao, Massimo,” I greet him, even though the structure that keeps his body upright and his mouth eternally open does not allow him to speak. “Do you like your new home?” I look around us once again. “I thought it was an exquisite work.” I click my tongue and shake my head, denying it. Before speaking again.

“Do you know? I had a lot of time to plan what I would do with you during the days I searched for my girl, but no matter how much I thought and planned, it never seemed like enough. I was only certain, Massimo, you couldn't die. No, that seemed like little, that seemed like nothing. I wanted you to experience the exact expression of what you mean to me: nothing.” I pause, letting him absorb the weight of my words. “I wanted, Massimo, for you to cease to exist, and yet feel what total and absolute oblivion means. But that was impossible, of course! Well, until it wasn't anymore.” An almost lascivious smile spreads across my face along with satisfaction pumping violence in my heart. “Massimo,” I say his name. “This is the last time you will hear that name. Let me explain to you what will happen. This cylinder,” I rap my knuckles against the glass. “Is an upgraded hyperbaric chamber[79], this structure keeping your body upright, your mouth open and your eyes too, it is made of a metal alloy specifically developed for you. Isn't it special?” Massimo's pupils dilate, even though his eyes are being mechanically held open. It's the only physical reaction his tortured body can have. I resume my explanation. “You will never again see the light of day, feel the touch of the wind, hear a sound other than my voice or taste your own saliva. You will continue to live, deprived of your senses despite their functionality, until you forget what it felt like to use them. You will be fed through an intravenous access, you will piss and shit through a tube, you won't even know what it feels like when your muscle contracts, because the chamber won't let you. I don'tneed to tell you that you're not allowed to die, do I? And that's not even my favorite part.” I say and the dread taking over every tiny bit of Massimo that still manages to react in some way, makes the vein in my forehead throb with satisfaction. “I erased your existence from the face of the earth, I ended your birth record, I found every photograph of you that had ever been taken and I burned it. I destroyed your companies and killed your brothers, cousins, your uncles and any and everyone who had any connection with you. Anyone who could remember your miserable existence is dead. Every small chance that your lineage could be perpetuated by a distant gene has been exterminated and your name will be forgotten, because it has already been erased from history.” A solitary tear runs down Coppeline's face and that is the last sensation I allow him to feel, because it pleases me. “Welcome to oblivion.”

EPILOGUE

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Gabriella Matos

SIX YEARS LATER.

“And they lived happily ever after.” I close the book and look at the three children around me.

The twins fell asleep, as usual, they never make it to the end of the stories, and I always end up having to retell them the next morning. Because at two years old, they haven't yet been taught that the world wasn't made to serve them, no matter how much their father would like to make it seem like it was.

Davide, however, keeps his eyes open, completely awake. He is only a year older than the girls, but if they seem to have come into the world to have their wishes met in a way mine never were when I was their age, Davide seems to have been born to observe and control the world around him, exactly like his father.

I flatten my six-month-pregnant swollen belly and wonder what the new baby will be like. Like me? Like Vittorio? Like neither of us? Or a mix of both?

I knew I would give Vittorio children, because he wanted them, and there is nothing in this world that I won't do to satisfy my Don's wishes. I satisfy myself by satisfying him and the years have not changed that.

If anything, they amplified the gratification contained in each yes. But I feared what the lives of these children would be like, I still fear, especially for the boys. Davide, being the eldest son, has a great chance of following in his father's footsteps and, one day, becoming the leader of Sagrada.

Antonio, who hasn't even been born yet, is unlikely to fall far from the tree he comes from. My husband's body, soul, mind, and heart belong to the Sagrada, and he teaches this to our children at every opportunity, even when he isn't trying.

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