Emilia ran water over her cupped hands, leaning over the sink as she splashed the warm water on her face, taking deep and steady breaths as she held either side of the ceramic platform.
She stood in front of the magnanimous mirror in the bathroom of her newly assigned room. The space within was larger than any bathroom she'd ever had: residing a jacuzzi, a bathtub, and a shower along with the wc all in one with an aperture large enough to host a party inside.
She stared at the reflection in the mirror, a strange yet oddly familiar woman held her gaze. From the honey blonde curls, she donned in contrast to the brown ones she'd sported for a year to the reverted look of grandiose and snobbiness reserved for the pampered little princess she thought she'd finally been rid of.
Twisting the tap shut, she raked her hands through her hair as she moved to sit on the covered toilet seat. She tried to focus on one situation at a time; her residence here and her personality disorder. It appeared that the persona she'd invented once she'd arrived in America and the one she fought desperately to let go of were raging a bitter conflict within her.
She was Emilia De Santigo yet she still believed she was this Amelia Davis woman. One that James had fallen for, one that hoped to start a career as a fashion designer in New York once the dust was settled. One that was close to being Mrs. Tolland. The same woman that could never truly exist anymore as the blinds had finally been drawn, revealing an identity that just didn't exist.
Yet she still believed she was that woman. Not the same woman who'd gotten her lover killed, who'd fallen for her own brother or who was willing to go to any length to achieve what she wanted at the cost of any other person's happiness or their outcomI, but a better version of that persona.
Who am I really?
A rasp knock on the door brought her attention back to reality, jerking her from her fumbled thoughts as she rushed to unlock the shut door.
She swung the door open, facing a young woman who had a shy smile plastered on her face. She wore a white undergarment with a long double apron, her hands adorned with white lace gloves.
"Sorry to bother you madam" she politely spoke, a stiff smile on her face as she did, "Mr. Gianpiero requested that I oversee your needs upon your arrival. I thought to come and introduce myself once I heard you had moved in. You can call me, Luciana"
"Oh thank you but that won't be necessary" she tried my best to sound as polite as she could, "You can tell him I said so. I can manage everything by myself"
She recoils as her eyes finally meet hers whilst she steps back cautiously, shaking her head, "i apologize ma'am but I cannot do that. Once I've been assigned to a task I cannot report back without significant results or i'll face the consequences"
She walk out of the washroom, shutting the door behind her as her gaze falls over the room she's in. The suitcase that she'd brought along—that'd been thoroughly packed by whoever had been told to—was upended and empty as multiple women in the same uniform as Luciana, flurry through the room, working and arranging her things.
"There's no need for this," she utters more harshly than intended but at this point, she's vaguely annoyed at the nerve of it all, "I can handle whatever is left by myself"
Luciana smiles once more, walking past her as she joins the others to continue the task they'd been given, one that she had no say in.
She scoffs, strutting towards the open doorway of the room, several things popping up in her mind to say to the man responsible for this.
She's out of the room and stalking valiantly through the hallway when a sudden realization dawns on her:
I don't know where Leonelli could be
The whole mansion has various rooms and floors that could belong to anyone and she certainly didn't bother to ask him before she'd been ushered to her room upon their arrival. There was no need to, at least at that time.
Another realization hit her smack across the face as she stood transfixed in the middle of the hallway. In all the madness that had happened throughout these few days, she had been so preoccupied that the thought hadn't occurred to her.
I didn't have a phone with me.
She knew for a fact that she had probably left hers at the apartment in New York but she certainly needed a new one. In case of emergencies like this. It would certainly be useful at a time like this.
She huffs as she turns back towards the direction of her room, hoping that she's be able to remember the exact one she'd come from.
☯︎︎
"I need a phone"
Was the first statement that came out of Emilia's mouth the moment she was ushered into his study. She had her hands on her hips as she stood across from him, her eyes narrowed in slits, awaiting his response.
"What makes you think you're in the position to make demands," He says dismissively, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he felt her gaze boring holes into his.
"I want the maids out too" she ignored his response, taking a seat in front of him, the desk acting as a partition between them.
"They can't just handle my things or touch what's mine just because you asked them to. They won't even listen to me, the least you can do is tell them to heed to my request for privacy"
"And why should I?" He asks, crossing his legs over the desk as he reclined back in his seat, his ever-increasing grin visibly ticking off the woman before him.
"Because I am politely asking you to" she says through gritted teeth, her fingers tapping impatiently on the desk. He tries but fails to mask his amusement as he watches the woman who couldn't stand his mere presence coming to him for a favor. It was a good laugh to be frank.
"Are you sure you're being polite enough?" he feigns annoyance, alighting his crossed legs from atop the desk and leaning over the desk looking directly into her hazel orifices. "I don't recall being told please"
She rolls her eyes dramatically, the whiteness of her eyes dominating her sockets as she did so, "please" she mutters ruefully leaning back against her seat.
"Was that so hard to say?" he teases, getting up from his seat, headed towards the doorway, "I'll be sure to have a word with them but before that I have someone I want you to meet"
He ravishes in the curiosity lingering within her eyes as her brows furrow in contemplation, "i don't think I'm acquainted with anyone you know" she says, "in any case, I'm tired. I can talk to whoever it is when I wake up"
He turns to face her, the humor of a moment before forgotten as he replaces his lopsided grin with a gruff frown so deep that she visibly cringes as his stern gaze lingers on her. "As I stated before, Emilia. Under my roof and custody, you have little to no say with what I ask of you. It's best we keep things civil and witty cause other than that, my other side isn't one you want to get acquainted with"
"mi sono chiarito?"
[translation: Have I made myself clear?]
She nods in response, quietly leaving her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.
He takes the lead as they leave his study, heading towards the living room situated on his floor which happens to be the first floor from the top. He takes brisk steps as they approach the room. His consigliere, Rocco, appears from one of the rooms they pass by, stepping up beside hifig they reached the doorway.
"Sir, we have a bit of a situation," he said as he fiddled with a lapel of his blue plaid suit, "one that was out of my control"
"What type of situation are we talking about here," he questions as he twists the knob of the door, pushing against it, walking into the living room; the source of the problem standing right next to the guest he wished to introduce Emilia to.
"Leon" her high-pitched voice rang through the quiet space. The gynecologist He'd invited sat uncomfortably beside her, tempted—he's sure—to cover his ears as she spoke, her range about to hit certain octaves that musicians struggled to.
She held a chalet of whiskey in her hand that she sipped on as everyone in the room took in her unwelcomed presence, her disdainful smile beaming as she watched Leonelli.
"Mi Amore" she crooned, sauntering over to him, her unimaginable high heel red bottoms clacking against the marbled tiles, the short silk dress she donned clinging to her for dear life as she moved. It was obvious from her movement that she was already tipsy, probably on her fifth or sixth fill.
"What are you doing here," he asked as calmly as he could, sidestepping in front of Emilia as she approached, her eyes scrutinizing every part of Emilia—as per usual—a scowl erupting from her as she sized her presumed rival.
"I came to see you, why else would I come to this enormous house if you weren't here, bambino," she says tucking a strand of her glossy black hair behind her ear.
Leonelli turns to Rocco who had taken cautious steps back, aware of the anger that he was desperately trying to contain, for the sake of the doctor that is.
"Once I heard you were back," she continues, "i just had to come see you. We left things on a rather awkward note and I just really want us to resolve our issues" she says, now a standing before me, her eyes pleading with his.
"Even if" she cranes her neck, peering over at Emilia with a sneer visible on her face, "you've fiddled with sluts and side pieces, I'm willing to put all that behind me"
"I'll advice that you get the fuck out of my face, if you know what's good for you" he asserts as calmly as he can muster, watching the fake smile fall off her face.
"You can't treat me this way Leon" she retorts, poking a finger at his chest, "Do you really think these bitches can actually satisfy you the way that I do? If that's what you think then you are really delusional"
"Watch your fucking tone" he warns through gritted teeth, easing closer to her, feeling the intense glares from the audience around us.
"Make me," she says, a smirk making its way to her crimson-colored lips, ticking the last ounce of patience he had reserved for the day.
"Rocco" he beckons, "Escort our guests to the other living room down the hall, and make sure that I am not disturbed"
He turns to Emilia who watches us with keen interest, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from their spectacle as she follows Rocco out of the room, leaving the two of them alone.
"Now, let me teach you a lesson about manners, Gianna"