Eros West

The Call

My breasts, even with my sports bra on, keep bouncing. My little skirt around my body does the same. I feel the fabric going up and down, but I don't stop. I'm inside my own sanctuary, so I don't care if my butt is visible with every jump. I'm on the treadmill, giving it my all to finish my morning workout.

The good thing about having a personal gym in our own apartment is that I can train in a swimsuit, with very cheeky sports outfits, or naked if I want to. I do that when I'm alone, without Mali accompanying me or Dante lurking around.

My body is highly sweaty, and rightly so. I've been awake since five in the morning exercising.

That's my daily routine before going to class. I get up at five, run ten laps around the building, then go inside and do a series of ten going up to the third floor by the stairs and coming down the same way, then go all the way up to the apartment and finish my routine here in the gym. Sit-ups, Pilates, the ropes, and finish by jogging on the treadmill for at least thirty minutes.

I'm short, so I compensate for my height with my perfectly toned and worked-out body. Not to mention my skin care and my own well-being. For those who don't know me, I'm the typical spoiled, pampered, and bratty Nepo Baby, all because I seem to be the stereotypical brainless blonde.

"That always makes me smile. I love the way they crash when they find out what's behind this pretty and delicate face."

‘Don't Go Insane’ blares in my ears at full volume, and I don't know what it is between the two-minute twenty-eight-second mark and the two-minute forty-second mark that drives me wild. Maybe it's the moans, maybe it's the sensual rhythm of the track, but whatever it is, I find it hard not to play it on my playlist every time I’m training.

I'm about to finish my minutes here when I feel my skirt being lifted. I turn without stopping my jog, looking for her, and I find her lying on the floor, staring at my butt, gesturing wildly with words I can’t hear because of the high volume in my ears. I stop looking at her, turn off the music, and continue jogging to finish my workout for the day.

"Why, Mali?"

"That's what I'm asking you, Siena!" she exclaims, and I roll my eyes, holding back laughter. "Why are your perfect glutes like that, Siena?"

"Perfectly toned?"

"Perfectly marked by the beast…" she retorts. "You have the mark of a huge hand on your right glute. You have bite marks on the left one, and below them too. What did you do? Or rather, what did you let them do to you?"

Her question, filled with high concern and indignation, makes me smile because I answer it very explicitly in my head, but that would blow her mind. So, for her own square and very bitter mental health, I decide to stop the machine to answer her while looking her in the eyes.

Panting, I raise my hand to stop her interrogatory while I drink water. If she does it while I swallow, I won't have a chance to reply. That's how cunning she is.

I watch her get up from the floor and stand in front of me with her arms crossed, looking at me with those penetrating blue eyes as intense as the sea, waiting for my explanations. "Well, where to begin…" I exhale, my eyes wide, looking directly into hers, which makes her look at me with sarcasm. "Relax, Mali!" I burst into laughter. "I just enjoyed my birthday, that's all."

"With a s****l carnivore?"

"How is it that you resemble my imposing uncle so much, but at the same time my sweet and caring aunt?"

"With a very interesting man," I reply, winking.

"Man?" she inquires, raising both eyebrows. "Do you mean…?"

"Man, sugar, geriatric, whatever you want to call it. The point is, I indulged myself by choice and I don't regret it," I say, shrugging as I finally get off the treadmill. "Don't look at me like that. You know very well that I can take care of myself, just as you know that where I set my sights, I sink my claws…"

I show her my nails with an evil smile, which makes her shake her head, holding back her own smile.

"I know very well that you know how to take care of yourself, that you know how to demand respect, no matter how daring you are with these adventures, Siena. I also know that you are very selective, contrary to what others believe, and that you only see it as s*x, but you must understand that I only worry about you. It's not normal for you to let your perfect, worked-out skin get marked right away, and even less with an old man!"

I burst into laughter again and immediately shake my head.

"Do you think I'm crazy enough to go that far?" She raises an eyebrow. "The old man thing is just a bitter joke I made, but he's not old, Malo. He's thirty-five."

"And you're twenty-two!" she exclaims, surprised to know the age of my prey. "That's a thirteen-year difference, Siena! I want to know who he is."

"No way."

"It's irrelevant, not important. He was just another one I looked at, detailed, chose, and thought; 'Oh my God, look at that face. You look like my next victim, shall we play?' That's all."

"You know the lyrics say 'my next mistake' and not 'my next victim,' right?"

"Saint Taylor gave me permission to change the lyrics," I reply confidently.

"Saint Taylor doesn't make mistakes, Siena. That night was undoubtedly your mistake."

"One learns from mistakes, right?"

"And what are you supposed to have learned?"

"Me?" I ask, raising my arms to tie my hair in a messy bun. "I learned to move on with my life after that night, but he…" I click my tongue, remembering his words. "He learned that I'm a nightmare in disguise, and believe me, my dear Mali, he will never forget that. I made sure of it."

"I don't want to imagine what you had to do, Siena…" she murmurs thoughtfully.

I immediately take her by the shoulders so she can look me in the eyes. Unlike me, Mali is taller, so I have to raise my head to look her in the face. She's as tall as my uncle.

"The only thing I did was f**k and not let myself be dominated by a man who apparently loves to do it with others. But not with me, I didn't let him, and that he will never forget, my dear cousin."

"Just promise me you won't be with someone that much older again, please…"

I frown at her request. "Relax, Mali… it's not like I'm f*****g men ten years older than me left and right. That night was just a whim."

"I know very well that you're not f*****g left and right. You're very picky about that, just as I know you're not with older men. It's just my advice, because no matter how intelligent and cunning you are, the age difference, even in the same s*x, is not something you should take lightly, Siena. It influences, affects, and somehow changes your life."

"Are you speaking from experience?"

"I'm speaking from my studies. Or did you forget that to be a lawyer, I also have to study psychology?"

"I forgot, Miss Ferreti," I say in a sing-song voice and approach to hug her, still sweaty. "Better tell me you love me and that you're proud of my exploits."

"f*****g an old man is now considered an exploit?" asks a deep voice behind us.

"Dante! Stop eavesdropping on our conversations, for God's sake!" I shout, throwing my water bottle at him. "You should already be in Italy, what are you doing here?"

"The pilot called me halfway to inform me that we'll fly back tonight. They're doing routine maintenance on the jet, precisely today Monday, when I was supposed to have a meeting at nine with some clients and Dad, but as you can see, I won't attend."

Mali whistles, and I snort. "That won't please my uncle."

"He already let me know, don't worry."

"You should have left last night when he ordered you, Dante," Mali comments, and this time I agree with her.

He didn't leave because he went out with his friends, and now he won't be able to attend that meeting.

My uncle's anger is more than justified since his eldest son will be taking on a case for the first time and will be defending it alone in court.

It's not a big case, but for being the first of his career as a lawyer, it's important.

And for the first meeting, the gentleman won't be there. Poor soul when he gets to Italy.

"I'll blame you two," he says relaxedly. "I'll say you wanted to go out, and I had to take care of you, so I canceled the trip last night. That always works," he winks.

We both open our mouths, understanding his comment.

"Do you mean that when you say you're going to Italy, you don't leave at that moment, and when you do, you say you didn't return earlier because of us, Dante?"

"Answer, cake doll!" I exclaim indignantly.

"Are you on your period today?"

"Dante!" we shout at the same time.

And just as we're about to go after him, he runs off, and we don't hesitate to chase him all over the apartment until we catch him in the living room and waste no time jumping on him to give him his due.

He's a cheat, one who uses us just to have his way here in New York without our uncles finding out, so he deserves to have his perfect doll face and blonde hair covered in our sweat.

"Enough, crazies!" he shouts angrily, getting up abruptly from the couch. "You're disgusting, damn it!"

Mali and I don't stop laughing at him, at his disgusted face, at his reddened face with all the desire to kill us for ruining his perfect outfit with our hugs and the sweat of our bodies.

"Stop crying, bel principe azzurro [perfect prince charming]," I say in clean, marked Italian.

"Stronzo [jerk]," he retorts.

"Crybaby," I reply, bursting into laughter. "Better go shower now. And jerk off too, so you can relax."

"Siena, for God's sake!" Mali shouts at me. "Stop telling Dante to jerk off in my presence, please!"

Now it's the two of us who burst into laughter at seeing her angry face at our peculiar treatment.

We've always been like this, we've always played like this.

We respect each other, without a doubt, just as we support each other in everything, but Dante and I have a somewhat rough but adorable bond, quite explicit when we refer to each other, which makes Mali upset.

Unlike the two of us, she's more reserved. But she doesn't fool me, I know something is happening to her, which she hasn't told me for two reasons. Either she's embarrassed, or she messed up big time. Whatever it is, I'll patiently wait for her to declare it to me herself.

"I'm going to shower, leaving you two," our "caretaker" announces, heading to his room.

We both watch him walk away, still wiping his face because we both rubbed our sweaty hands from our chests, backs, and legs on him.

Mali is the first to get up from the couch, while I stay with my eyes fixed on the coffee table, thinking about what today will bring.

I have classes at eight in the morning, and I'm still on time, thanks to the university being a block away.

When I decided to study here in New York, my father was the first to refuse, followed by my uncle Alessandro, my aunt Fio, and then my aunt Gio, my uncle Lorenzo, even Manolo, and finally my grandparents.

None of them liked the idea of me leaving Italy, except my mother. She was the only one who supported me, who fought against all the Barones, all the Fiores, and even the Morrettis, for me to come here until fate played its hand, and my lovely Mali decided to join the adventure.

After screams, exaggerated fainting, and family drama—not to mention months of resounding no's from our parents—we finally convinced them, but with some conditions. That we wouldn't live on campus but in an apartment with everything necessary for our comfort, very close to the university, promising them that every weekend, we would travel back to Italy to see them, and letting Dante become our chaperone on our outings.

We accepted all that and fulfilled it to the letter, except for the Saturday night of my birthday.

My father's scream was abnormal when I called to inform him that we wouldn't be flying to Italy, and my uncle's, not to mention. If it weren't for our mothers, both men would have arrived at the club to drag us out to Italy that very night without the right to return to New York.

We love our fathers, we love going to Italy, but we also love our life here, going out and meeting people. Well, I do more than Mali, but she ends up having fun too. It's just that to get her out of her shell, we need to take the necessary time for her to feel comfortable and at ease.

As I said, she's as square as my uncle. My phone rings on the kitchen counter; Mali takes it to hand it to me, informing me that it's my mother calling. I take the phone, answer, and put it on speaker.

"Hello!" I greet her cheerfully. "Good afternoon, mother."

"Good morning, little lioness," hearing her makes me smile. "Did you finish your routine?"

"A few minutes ago, yes."

"And your cousins?"

"Dante went to shower, and Mali is here next to me."

"Hi, aunt!" she greets as cheerfully as I do.

"Hello, dear…"

The three of us start a conversation about how our celebration at the club went, of course, omitting what I did, just making it clear that we danced and had a great time with Dante and his friends. My mother tells us that my father and my uncle are furious because we didn't travel to Italy for my birthday and that if it weren't for her, they would both be here. That made us laugh like crazy; sometimes those two are so exaggerated.

She asks about our classes, our final exams, and of course, making it clear that next weekend we must go to Italy, no excuses. If we don't want to end up deported, it's better to fly next weekend without complaining.

"Well, leaving the jokes aside, I have news for you, Siena."

I frown, maintaining my smile. "And what would that be, Mom?"

"Yes, aunt, please speak… I can't go shower without hearing what you have to say."

I raise an eyebrow, looking at her, and she rolls her eyes. "Gossip…" I murmur.

My mother laughs, and Mali hits me with a cushion in the face. "Stop fighting, girls…" her relaxed voice is heard through the call.

"Very well, mama, I'm listening."

"Well, since you have to start applying for internships as a requirement to graduate, I'm informing you that you won't have to apply to any company like the others because I got you a VIP pass to one of the best in the city, dear. Isn't that fantastic?!"

"NO! Damn it, no!"

I laugh nervously, very nervously, trying to hide the panic her "help" has caused me. She keeps telling me what I have to do, when I should show up to get the report signed to submit to the university, and how I should dress.

I listen to her, but I'm not listening at all because all I can think about is my moment on the beach with him! Precisely with him! I ended up covered in sand, washing it off in the same beach with him, carrying me while still f*****g me in the water.

I arrived wet at the club, looking totally different from how I left, fleeing that place as if the devil himself were watching me from the VIP area. His growls, my moans, his thrusts, his bites, and slaps on my flesh, that's what's going through my mind while she keeps talking about what I have to do!

"So you know, Siena, you have to attend, and you won't let me down because my friend Abi is happy to have you in the program, right?"

"Yes! Yes, of course!" I pretend to understand. I pretend to be excited. "Did you say I have to show up in a week?"

"Yes, but I'll send you everything by message so you can read all the information she sent me and be clear on how everything will be, okay?"

"And if I don't like it?"

"Well, you can change companies, dear, but you'll have to give a good excuse to the university. They care about the students, not the companies, and they'll want to know the reason why you decline the offer."

"I f****d the boss, and he f****d me, is that enough?"

"I suppose I should go before judging, right? Besides, it's just a one-year internship, that's a piece of cake for Siena Barone, the astute and intelligent daughter of Mr. Daemon Barone."

"That's my little lioness. I know you can handle this in that great company, and when you have your certificate of approval, we'll be prouder of you than we already are."

I smile, hearing her, feeling secure again. "Thanks for this, although I had already applied to some lower-profile companies, but I appreciate it very much, Mom…"

"No matter how much you try to go unnoticed, you won't succeed, dear… You are Siena Barone Fiore, and with that alone, you have a lot," she says lovingly, and I just want to hug her.

"Okay, dear, I'll leave you to get ready. Your day is starting, and mine is nearing its end. Your father is waiting for me at La Casona for a romantic walk through the vineyard…"

"I love your romantic walks through the vineyard," I say immediately, letting out a slight sigh. "We'll talk by messages, Mom, I'll go feed Olivia. She's looking at me with her blue eyes directly into mine."

"Every time you mention Olivia, I remember Mr. D…" I hear her little lament. "Give her lots of kisses from me."

"Olivia loves you, and she's delighted to receive the kisses sent by her great-great-grandmother," I let out with a big laugh.

"Siena! Don't call me grandmother, I'm still young for that. We agreed that Olivia is a direct descendant; that's all. I love Olivia, but don't call me grandmother again, please, dear… tell me that in a couple of years."

"I promised you."

"And I believe in you, dear… well, well, I'll let you go. We'll talk by messages. I send you a big kiss and, please, let Dante return to Italy before Mr. Perfect has a heart attack."

"Let Dante go?! Ha, if they only knew."

"He will leave tonight. We only held him back last night, but not today…"

"Thank God!"

Laughing at her exclamation, we finally say goodbye.

I leave my phone on the counter, right next to Oli, and I stay looking at her, processing this internship at the West conglomerate.

“Does he know I’m coming? Is he aware of my presence at his company? I don’t think he personally deals with interns being the boss, right?”

I sigh at all the questions.

“Come on, Olivia, we need to talk while you eat and I shower. You always listen to me and give me the best advice with that haughty gaze and proud demeanor, don’t you, my precious little thing?”

She meows as I pick her up in my arms, and continuing to dote on her, I walk straight to my room with her food in my hand so she can eat while I vent in her presence. I know she understands me, and I know that most of the time, she probably wants to tell me to get lost, but there’s something about her that helps me think and put my plans together in my head, which always end up going the way I want them to.

Mali says Olivia is possessed because it’s not normal for her to help me be so scheming, but what can I expect from someone who doesn’t like cats? At least Dante shows her affection, but not Mali. The further she stays from Olivia, the better.

Not me—I keep her close and whisper my darkest secrets to her. Just like I’ll do right now.

“If the great Mrs. West gave me a preferential pass, who am I to refuse?”