In my entire existence, I think this was the only moment I’ve ever felt so free to speak—free to express and tell my own tale—and someone was actually listening to every word I spit out.
I sat by the long couch, just a few inches away from him, munching on the meat he grilled while the show he put on the TV was clearly ignored.
It was just Stefano, me, and the things I told him.
And he almost spat his drink out when I told him I once caught Johnny in the act of doing a “miracle” in his office with a woman.
“It’s a good thing I didn’t freeze in shock,” I said, handing him a napkin. “So I slammed the door shut and had to confess my sins to a priest. And take note—that was also my 'first day' working for him.”
“s**t, sorry,” he coughed, still laughing. “Didn’t know it could be that... fu
