CHAPTER 2: FUN IS PROHIBITED
LUCA
I wake up to the simultaneous sound of someone banging on my door and the sensation of someone else sucking on my nipple.
I groan, blinking groggily as the girl next to me giggles and starts to lick down my chest.
“Luca!” A loud voice accompanies the banging. “Apri questa porta subito!”
I moan, content to ignore the very loud request for me to open the door as a hand belonging to the man on my other side slides under the covers and wraps around my morning wood.
“I’m busy, Gio!”
“Vaffanculo!”
I chuckle. It’s always amusing when I push proper, cool-headed Giovanni to the point of swearing.
A second later, I hear a small beep, and the door to my hotel room swings open.
“Che cavolo, Luca!” Gio exclaims, glaring down at me.
I smile up at him groggily, imagining what a mess I look like lying between Sonya and Erikson, new friends I picked up at the bar last night.
Giovanni moves, grabbing clothes from around the room where they were strewn last night. He throws them on us. “You two—out, now.”
Erikson shakes his head as his hand works faster on my cock. “I don’t think Luca wants that, do you?”
I moan as Sonya sucks on my neck, no doubt leaving hickeys in her wake. “He’s right, Gio.”
“Get out,” Giovanni says through gritted teeth, “Or I’ll be back with security to throw you out.”
Sensing my personal assistant is at the end of his rope, I sigh and push at Erikson’s hand. “You two should leave.”
Sonya looks up at me and pouts. “Come on, really?”
I nod and sit up, causing them to do the same.
They shoot Giovanni dirty looks as they start to put on their clothes, and I watch, admiring their bodies—physiologically different but equally sexy.
“One night,” Giovanni says as the door closes behind them. “You’ve been in Sweden one night, and you’re already doing all the things your mother said not to do.”
I stretch on the bed, feeling thoroughly satisfied and not at all in the mood for a lecture. But Giovanni seems in the mood to give me one; who am I to deny him the pleasure?
“And what did mamma say not to do?”
“This,” Gio hisses, pointing around the room.
The hotel room is a mess, thanks to the fun I had last night with Sonya and Erikson. To be honest, I blacked out and don’t remember most of it, but the mini fridge door dangles open, showing it’s empty, and several empty bottles scatter the space. The dining room table is turned on its side, and I vaguely remember doing body shots off Sonya and then the three of us dancing on said table.
Plus, there’s a large brownish stain on the white couch that will definitely cost us at checkout.
“I’m just having some fun, Gio,” I say, getting out of bed.
“Fun is having a drink or two; going dancing. What you do is absolute, all-out debauchery. It’s the kind of shit that splashes you on the cover of tabloids and magazines and drags your mother’s name in the mud. She’s right in the middle of the most difficult time of her career. She has opponents sniffing in from the left and right, looking for the slightest weakness, and your extracurricular activities have already been a—”
“Okay, I get it! I’m a liability; I suck.” I snap, grabbing a bottle of water. “It’s too early for this shit, Gio.”
“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon,” he says pointedly.
I wince. “Jet lag?”
He gives me a look, and before he can further berate me, no doubt mentioning that the flight time from Rome to Stockholm was only three hours, I say, “Relax, amico; fun is prohibited, got it.”
He sighs, sinking into an armchair—one that’s not covered in vomit.
“You know you didn’t come here to have fun, Luca. And I hate to be the dark cloud over your head, but—”
“Oh please, Gio, you love to be the dark cloud over my head.”
He sighs. “Go take a shower and put some clothes on; we have work to do.”
I raise a brow. “The forum’s not for another two days.”
“Your mother wants you at an art exhibit in Södermalm.”
I sigh. “Why?”
“Because you’re an art student; it’s an actual honest extracurricular activity. Because the press will be tipped off that you’re there. Because your mother wants at least one article about you that doesn’t feature alcohol, public nudity, or orgies.”
“Hey, how was I supposed to know that Andrea chick was crazy and would steal my clothes? And threesomes are not orgies.”
Giovanni sighs again. Usually, he’s in less of a foul mood, and although it pains me to admit it, he’s my dearest friend. Despite all the people I party with and all my mates at school, he’s the only one who truly knows me and sticks by me. I tell myself that it’s because he’s genuinely my friend and not because it’s his job.
“Fine,” I concede, heading to the bathroom. “I’ll behave myself and stop making babysitting hard for you.”
“Luca—”
“I already said I’d behave, Gio. Feel free to pull the stick lodged up your arse out while I’m in the bathroom.” I wink before shutting the door.
I strip and step under the shower, letting the water wash away the night before and the combined essence of Sonya and Erikson.
As the hot water runs down my body, I feel…tired. And it’s not from the drinking or the ‘orgies’ or none existent jetlag.
If I'm being truthful, I don’t know what it’s from. Maybe it’s everyone else's projected feelings. Giovanni won’t say it outright, but I know he’s tired of me.
My mother won’t say it outright, but I know she’s tired of me.
That’s the real reason I’m in Stockholm—not for some stupid youth forum on the environment or for photo ops in art galleries. It’s so that I’m out of the way and she can focus on her work as the President of the Council of Ministers. It’s so my countless scandals and misdemeanours are far away from all the judgmental and critical eyes that bear down on her shoulders.
So yeah, I’ll attend the International Youth Environmental Forum, representing the youth of Italy, and I’ll try my best not to bring disgrace to my mother’s name—at least, not this summer.
I’ll go to the stupid art gallery, too. That might be fun.
Plus, I’ve heard Södermalm has amazing clubs.
Apri questa porta subito (Italian)- Open this door right now
Vaffanculo (Italian)- Screw this
Che cavalo (Italian)- What the heck?
Amico (Italian)- Friend.