Valeria sprawled across the great bed of Don Montovani. The clarity of her ruddy bare skin was unmatched.
The brunette was baked perfectly to the Dons taste, simple and humble, beautiful and sober.
The Sicilian bride had been a shy demurely natured girl…until she met Di Mercurio.
Valeria stared at the priceless jewels decorating the room, the gold roman utensils and the tall vases of inestimable value.
She reminisced, visualizing the days of her youth, back in Sicily. ”You will marry a wealthy man abroad and have a lot of gold, ” her gold digger mother had said to her, filling her head with vain fantasies and blinding Utopias.
And on the day Don Montovani unveiled her underneath the clanging great bell, within the high painted windows of the monastery, before the staring stone faced cherubs, Valeria couldn be any quicker to say I do.
The muffled chuckles of the other ladies were almost too jeering not to hear.
The mafioso would prefer a naive virgin the statement, still fresh in her head.
”Hes over three times her age, ” another had giggled from behind that day.
She was only eighteen, so young, so shy, so bashful and naive, unprepared for the great journey ahead.
A life of wealth, she had always desired and now, here it all was but she lacked one thing…happiness.
The Don was good in bed, oh real good.
He would stick his way into her, the burly beef would tear its way within, deep down and she would scream atop her voice.
And before long, she proved the worthiness of her hyped dowry with her impressive fertility by bearing the Don a son…one to replace Nero.
She had gloried in all that, worn the finest pearls, the heaviest gold and the most crystalline diamonds.
But she never smiled.
Valeria stared at the great clock castle, its short hand was striking 12 sinisterly and its long smote 6.
Her mind wandered where her beloved groom would be.
She had taken a nice warm shower and sprayed the best smelling perfume all for him, all so she could bear him a second son…another worthy heir.
But for three hours, she had waited… there was no response.
Soon, the brunette grew weary of waiting. She would find the Don herself.
She ascended to her feet stiffly and wore a linen robe; it revealed the beauty of her nakedness through its translucency.
She marched down the stairs of infinity.
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