The Devil of DiRisio (16 page)

“I said that I would see if I could move around some things and that I would let her know in a few days.  Until then, she will just have to purchase a gas mask in order to endure Pierre’s body odor.” He smiled and Sasha started laughing.  I was not amused.

“You’re attracted to him, aren’t you?” Sasha said while we were leaving the hotel.

“Don’t be ridiculous.  He infuriates me.  He tries to intimidate people with his sex appeal and … and deceptive charm.  He uses sex like a weapon to control people and get what he wants.  He’s a psycho.  I hate him.  I absolutely hate him.”  Sasha stopped in her tracks and stared at me, causing me to stop and turn to her.

“You
hate
him?” she asked skeptically.

“Yes, I hate him.”

“You don’t hate anyone.  It’s not in your nature.  Even after everything Lauren
DeHaven
, Ashley, and Brittany did to you I never heard you say you hated them.  And even though you claimed to hate me, you forgave me the moment you saw me again.  You’re incapable of hate.”

“Yeah, well, not anymore.  I said I hate him and I mean it.  I hate him.” I spun on my heels and continued walking.

“I guess we’ll see,” she said skeptically.

What was that supposed to mean?

A normal man brought a woman flowers when he picks her up for a date.  Sometimes he may go a step further and bring a box of candy or a stuffed teddy bear of some sort.  Will had really gotten creative lately and brought me different trinkets from various countries for our dates. 

Once, while he was in Moscow, he picked up a poster of Natalia
Karleskaya
to add to my collection.  All of these were normal expected gifts for a normal guy to give to a normal girl. 

Raffaele
Borcelli
, however, was anything but normal.  He showed up an hour
early
for his date with Anna Marie and instead of flowers, he brought her a dress, shoes, a purse and even a bra.  Yes, he brought her a bra.

This wasn’t just any, ordinary, run of the mill dress, though.  It was a
Raffaele
Borcelli
original. 
Raffaele
had just spent a week in Milan working on a project for one of his classes and he got inspired to design a dress especially for Anna Marie, or should I say, Maria.

I had to admit, the dress was fabulous and it fit Anna Marie like a glove. 
Raffaele
was obviously a genius who was going to be rich and famous one day. The dress was tight around the bust which accentuated Anna Marie’s breasts and created cleavage where there was none.  Then it flowed out from right below the bust line and fell gracefully to her mid thigh.  She looked three inches taller before she even put the shoes on.  The dress had this retro yet modern European feel to it. The rust color perfectly accented her new hair color and didn’t clash at all as I thought it would when I first looked at it.  The olive purse seemed completely random to me, but when it was all together, it worked.  It actually brought out her eyes.  I never noticed she had green eyes.  I thought they were brown. Anna Marie could have easily been on the cover of one of those magazines she was obsessed with reading.

Raffaele
was so pleased with Anna Marie’s
look,
he didn’t want to leave the room. He started kissing her and telling her how beautiful she was.  I was starting to get uncomfortable as neither of them seemed slightly aware of my presence anymore.  Thankfully, Will arrived and we were able to go out on our double date.

“Is that all you’re
gonna
order?”  Will asked after the waiter left. 

“Yeah, why?
  What’s wrong with a salad?”

“Nothing’s wrong with a salad, but you didn’t order a salad.  You ordered a plate of lettuce.”  Here we went again.  Will, seemed to be overly concerned with what I ate lately.  I didn’t feel like getting into another argument so I tried to keep the conversation light.

“Well, look who’s talking.  All you ordered was vegetables.  You were always such a carnivore.  What’s going on?”  Will smiled.

“You’re
gonna
think it’s silly, but my new luck ritual is to not eat meat the day before a game.”

“What?  Come on Will, I’ve heard of people giving up meat for Lent, but giving up meat for luck is a little um … strange.  You’re
gonna
have to explain this one.” Will squirmed in his chair excitedly.  For a moment, he looked like a child about to share a juicy secret.

“Okay, last week in the game against Bologna, I had my first slam dunk, remember?”  I nodded.  I wasn’t at the game, but he had shown me the clip of it about thirty times. “Well, the day before, I ate at this restaurant and I couldn’t understand the menu and I ended up ordering an entrée without meat.”  I couldn’t help giggling a little.

“So, you think, you made a slam dunk because you didn’t eat meat the day before?” Will nodded confidently like he was some sort of genius for finding the connection.  “Will, your ability to slam dunk has nothing to do with meat.  You’re 6’3”.  You only have to jump like two feet in the air.”  I started laughing hysterically.  Fortunately, he saw the humor in it as well and joined in. 

“Now, if 5’5” Anna Marie skipped the meat then made a slam dunk the next day maybe I would agree with your little theory.”  I looked over at Anna Marie for a little back up but she was too busy eating a breadstick out of
Raffaele’s
fingertips.  After
Raffaele’s
ten minute soliloquy about a pair of shoes he wanted to buy for his Maria, Will and I kind of tuned them out.  This was the first time we had even looked at them since we sat down at the table. 

For some reason, watching them interact was suddenly absolutely hilarious.  Maybe we were both picturing Anna Marie going for a slam dunk.  I don’t know, but for whatever reason, Will and I started laughing uncontrollably at them.  I mean tears were streaming down our cheeks.  It felt so good.  It was like a release of all the tension that had built up between us. 

When our laughter subsided somewhat, Will reached for my hand, wove his fingers between mine and said, “That’s the first time we’ve laughed together in a long time.” 

I stared into Will’s sweet blue eyes for so long I almost didn’t notice the female voice from behind say, “Can I please have your autograph?”  I assumed, of course, that she was talking to Will. It happened all the time.  Women would approach him on the street and ask for his autograph or ask to get their picture taken with him.  I was starting to get used to it.  I usually just let my mind wander while Will chatted with his fans for a while.  He was very good at playing the role of celebrity.  He was becoming well loved in the city.

But this voice was not addressing Will.  She was talking to me.  I turned around and saw an adorable little girl of about ten years of age holding a program from the performance I did with Damian. I was so stunned I froze. Will had to squeeze my hand and bring me back to reality.  While I signed her program, I rattled on about how glad I was she enjoyed the show and how she could one day do the same thing if she worked hard.

I was so excited.  It was the first autograph I had ever signed.  I wondered if my penmanship was dancer-like enough.  Lord knows I had practiced it for hours on end while I was growing up.  I’d waited so long for an opportunity like this.  I almost wanted to get the little girl’s
autograph
just so I could remember her as my first fan. 

But then I looked at Will.  He was smiling so broadly it was like he was the one to sign that program.  His eyes gleamed with pride as took my hand and kissed it.  Then I realized something. Will was really my first fan.  He loved me so much.  How could I be such a jerk and keep rejecting his proposals?  Was Damian right?  Did I really not love Will?

“Is it all right if I bring a date tonight?” Sasha asked as we were getting ready to go Will’s game. 
Lottomatica
was playing one of their biggest rivals,
Montepaschi
Siena,
and Will really wanted me to be there.

“Sure,” I said.  I was a bit curious to see who Sasha had met after being in Rome for such a short time and not speaking the language.  But, I should’ve learned to never underestimate my sister.  Moments later, the doorbell rang.

“What are you doing here?” I asked Damian Karl as he stood at my, well, Will’s front door.  He didn’t respond.  He just stood there and gave me his signature intense glare that, unfortunately, was becoming familiar. “What do you want?”  I said a little louder when he didn’t respond. 

The corners of his perfectly shaped lips curved upwards forming a sly smile.  He raised one eyebrow and softly said, “You.”  I should have seen that one coming. But still, the way he said it with such crazed obsession made my heart catch in my throat.  This guy was obviously insane.  How could he show up at my boyfriend’s house and try to seduce me?  What was he thinking? 

I was just about to slam the door in his face when Sasha exclaimed, “Oh, Damian, you made it.”

“What?” I asked, completely confused and strangely terrified.

“You guys ready to go?” Sasha said cheerfully.

“What?” I repeated.

“Oh, Damian’s my date.  You don’t mind do you, sis?”

“What?”

“I said, he’s my
… ”
she began as I dragged her away from the front door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked when we were out of Damian’s ear shot.

“I’m bringing a date to your
boyfriend’s
basketball game.”  She emphasized the word ‘boyfriend’ as if she had to remind me what it was.

“I can see that, but why does it have to be Damian?”

“Why does it matter?” she asked sinisterly. 

“It doesn’t.”  It did.

Damian made it a point to make it the most wretched evening possible.  Every chance he got, he would say something inappropriate to me in Italian knowing my sister didn’t know what he was saying.  He would describe how he wanted to touch me, where he was going to kiss me and how it would make me scream. What a lunatic!

Finally, at half time I decided I couldn’t take it anymore.  I got up to leave and Sasha forced me to sit back down.

“What are you doing?”

“Just wait,” she said.  Then I realized what was happening.  I looked up at the scoreboard and saw: “I love you, marry me, Will.”  My jaw dropped.  I couldn’t believe it.  Then Sasha tugged on my arm and pointed to the court.  Somehow
Will
had managed to go to the locker and change into a tuxedo without my noticing.  He was now standing center court holding a single red rose.  It was incredibly romantic.  So why did I feel so nauseated?

Immediately people started looking around the crowd waiting for the lucky mystery girl to come running down to meet her gentleman suitor.  But I was frozen.  I couldn’t move.  Will was staring at me.  Sasha was staring at me.  Even Damian Karl was staring at me.  He was smiling and shaking his head.  He mumbled something in Italian about me not being able to go through with it.  How dare he?  He didn’t know me.  He had no idea how much I cared for Will. So why wasn’t I moving?

I looked across to the other side of the arena and noticed that Veronica
Valerio
stood up and placed her hands on her hips.  Apparently, she thought Will should be focusing on her, not me.  People began to look her way.  They thought he was proposing to
her
.  They thought my Will wanted to marry that tone deaf Barbie doll.  I had to do something. I don’t know whether it was the stare and taunts of Damian Karl or the smug look of Veronica
Valerio
that made me run down those stairs, but before I knew it I was center court and in Will’s arms.  After he hugged and kissed me, he got down on his knee like he had 27 other times, but this time I let him place the ring on my finger.

That night, after we did three or four quick television interviews, Will’s teammates wanted to take us out to celebrate.  We party hopped until the wee hours of the morning.

When I woke up, Will had already left for his morning jog.  It took me a moment to realize what had happened the night before, but when I looked at my hand it all came back to me. I was wearing Will’s mother’s ring. I was an engaged woman.  And I was all right with it.  I didn’t feel trapped or anything.  I could handle this.  It wouldn’t be so bad after all.  Nothing had to change.  I would just tell him that I wanted a long engagement.
A really long engagement.

I went to the kitchen and found Sasha smiling broadly and singing as she scrambled some eggs.

“Good morning,” she sang when I entered.

“You’re certainly in a good mood this morning.”

“Why shouldn’t I be? My sister is getting married. So how does it feel to be engaged?  Wasn’t that romantic the way he proposed?”