Читать книгу The Confessions Of A Concubine онлайн

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So it was that I made my entrance into the meeting room where the buffet was set up, supported by the director's wife, attracting everyone’s gaze, including Pietro’s.

I wanted to cry.

I spent the next two hours with colleagues who kindly took turns keeping me company.

At a certain point there was a momentary pause in the close surveillance, to which I was being subjected, just enough for Pietro to come closer and whisper calmly in my ear:

"You look beautiful. I would have liked to be the one who found you in the bathroom, unconscious,

completely in my power, so you could not have denied me!"

I hated him for his one-way jibes, but his proximity melted my joints and ligaments, and I felt my knees go weak again and the blood melt in my veins, yet I had to maintain the impassive mask of the afflicted colleague, because his wife was watching us.

Whether it was hatred or the fire that burned inside me that was predominant, I had no idea.

A few words when I returned from that devastating evening.