“Stop it,” I cry.
“Your mother is lying. I don’t believe a thing that comes out of her fucking mouth. She was there with Lorenzo, I know it. He was keeping her warm whenever my father wasn’t home.”
I begin to hear my angry heartbeat in my ears, I’m sick of her being painted the villain, she’s a good woman who was in love with a player. “Do not dare disrespect my mother, Giuliano. Ever! Drop it.”
“Drop it?” He frowns. “Drop it? Our whole fucking future together depends on this and you tell me to fucking drop it?”
I put my hands onto my hips.
“Go to hell, Francesca.”
“What does that mean?” I yell.
“It means I’m not sleeping with my fucking sister anymore. I can’t do it. I won’t.”
Wow.
And there it is, the cold hard facts.
Suddenly I’m angry, at this fucked situation, the world, my father…but inexplicably, most of all him. “Fine.” I storm up the hall. “Don’t then.”
I was supposed to be letting him down easy, not getting dumped myself.
“You go back over there and demand the fucking truth,” he yells.
I walk into my bedroom. “Get out.” I pick up a perfume bottle and turn and hurl it at him.
He ducks as it flies past his head. “You get over there and demand the truth.”
“I got the truth, you idiot, and I’m sorry.” I throw my hands up in defeat. “I’m sorry that I’m not the person you want me to be. I’m sorry I’m not Lorenzo’s daughter.”
He’s so angry that veins in his neck are sticking out, his chest rises and falls as he struggles to control his anger.
“And don’t worry, you don’t have to sleep with your sister anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we’re done. Get the fuck out.”
“You don’t get to end it with me.”
“I just did. Get out.” I push him out of my bedroom, slam the door and flick the lock.
“Francesca. Open this fucking door,” he yells as he bangs on it.
“Go away.”
The door bangs hard, nearly coming off its hinges, I jump. He’s punched it. “I hope you broke your hand, you idiot.”
“You get out here right now!”
“Or what?” I cry through the door, “You’ll get your gun out and shoot me? I’m not scared of you, Giuliano.”
The door bangs hard again.
I roll my eyes, this is a fucking disaster if ever I saw one.
I get my suitcase out and put it onto the bed, I begin to throw my clothes into it at double speed, I’m getting the fuck out of here.
This is toxic.
With him yelling on the other side of the door, I pack my things and zip up my suitcase, I open the door and march past him down the hall wheeling my suitcase.
“Where are you going?” he demands as he follows me hot on my heels.
“Home.” I open the front door in a rush.
“This is your home!” His eyes are about to bulge from their sockets.
“No, Giuliano.” I get into the elevator. “You’ve made it quite clear where we stand. I won’t darken your door anymore. Don’t worry, I won’t interrupt you ever again. Fuck whoever you want.” I hit the elevator button. “Just stay the hell away from me.”
“Where are you going?” he yells.
“Paris…. Where I belong.”
* * *
Seven days. Seven nights. A million broken dreams.
I’m in a fetal position on the couch, under my blanket, my trusty laptop and phone by my side.
How can only one week in Milan with him feel like it’s ended my world?
Seven days…and look at me, I’m a mess.
A knock sounds at the door and I frown, that’s weird, nobody can get up to my floor.
I get up and it knocks again, harder this time, more urgent.
I peek through the peephole and see two men, who are they?
Shit.
“Francesca, open the door,” a familiar voice calls.
Huh?
I’m trying to see who exactly is out there through the tiny peephole, why don’t they make these fucking things bigger?
“It’s me, Dr. Miracash.”
“Oh.” What? It’s my family doctor from home. “What’s going on?” I call through the door.
“Open the door and I’ll explain.”
I think for a moment and then shrug, if I can’t trust my family doctor, who can I trust? I tentatively open the door. “Hello.” I frown.
He smiles warmly. “Hello.” He gestures to the other man, “This is Dr. Ormond.”
My eyes flick between the two of them. “What’s going on?”
“We’ve been sent here to do some testing.”
“What kind of testing?”
“A paternity test, Mr. Ferrara sent us.”
16
Francesca
“Oh,” I say, although I can’t say I’m surprised, Giuliano will never believe a word my mother says and after thinking on it for a few days, I have to admit it, there are holes in her story. Enough for me to cast doubt too, after all she’s lied to me about so many things up until now in regard to my father, what makes this any different. My mother hasn’t contacted me once since I went to her…which is odd.