The Slave of Pleasure

Vincenzo

I approached the butler, who was standing at the front door, and asked with a tone of curiosity and a touch of concern: "Who's waiting for me?" He looked at me with a slight smile and replied: "It's your grandmother, sir. The Ninth."

A bolt of surprise shot through me. The Ninth, in my house? That was rare, almost inconceivable. She never showed up without a serious reason. We had always kept a certain distance in terms of visitors, both by her choice and mine, and her presence here was unexpected and unsettling. My heart raced slightly as I pondered the reason for her visit.Material © of NôvelDrama.Org.

"Take her to my office and prepare some tea for her," I ordered, trying to remain calm. I needed a moment to process what was happening and adjust my behavior.

I walked down the hall towards my office, trying to gather my thoughts. The Ninth had always been an imposing figure in my life, a woman with an unusual combination of tenderness and severity. I remember her distinguished appearance always impeccable in her designer suits, which she wore with an elegance that defied her years. Her hair, carefully tied in a bun, was a symbol of her dignity and style. Her eyes, though soft, held a piercing and demanding gaze. When I entered the office, I saw Nona sitting gracefully in a comfortable chair. She was dressed in a navy tweed suit, her gold accessories glinting in the soft light of the room. The gray bun on her head was perfectly positioned, and her erect posture exuded a natural respect and quiet authority. The contrast between her refined appearance and the more informal atmosphere of the office further highlighted her distinguished presence.

I approached her with a mixture of respect and apprehension, and knelt down to kiss her hand-a gesture that always symbolized my reverence for her. "Nona," I said sincerely, "it is a surprise to have you here. What can I do for you?" She looked at me with her piercing eyes, but her expression was soft and gentle, almost as if she were watching a beloved child. "Vincenzo, my boy," she began, her voice sweet and firm. "I have come to see how you are and to attend to some family matters that require your attention." As she spoke, the butler entered with the tea tray, and I helped her pour it. The grandmother took a sip of tea, and I sat across from her, trying to guess what could have prompted this unexpected visit. Her presence here was a disruption to my meticulously planned routine, and I needed to understand what was at stake. I sat at my desk, listening intently to my grandmother's voice as she spoke, her presence always imposing even in her advanced age. She was the pillar of the family, and I knew that her visit to the mansion was no mere casual visit. Whenever she appeared, there was something important to discuss. "Vincenzo," she began, her tone firm but with a slight underlying tenderness, "we cannot put this off any longer." She paused, taking a sip of tea, and her eyes, though aged, were filled with determination. I knew what was coming next. I had heard variations of this conversation before, but never in such seriousness. "You are the sole heir to our family," she continued, carefully placing the teacup on its saucer. "It is your duty to ensure that the Moretti legacy continues. I will not live forever, and you know it. The empire we have built needs someone who is prepared to take it over." I sat back in my chair, listening intently to every word. There was a weight to her words that I could not ignore. She was right. I had been an orphan since I was young, raised by my grandmother as if I were her own son. Everything I knew about the power, wealth, and responsibility of being a Moretti came from her. "I understand, Grandma," I said calmly, trying to keep control of the situation. "But getting married now? I don't know if it's the right time." She looked at me with those piercing eyes that seemed to see through every excuse. "The right time, Vincenzo, is now. I won't last forever, and I need to see that the Moretti name is in good hands before it's too late. This isn't just about marriage. It's about protecting what we've built. You're the only family I have, and I'm the only family you have." That sentence echoed in my mind. The only family I had. As strong and independent as I thought of myself, there was an undeniable truth to it. Everything I had, every responsibility I carried, revolved around the Moretti name. It wasn't just about wealth or power; it was about honoring our family's legacy. "I raised you, Vincenzo," she said softly but firmly. "I have taught you everything you know about business, about leadership, about maintaining respect. But I cannot teach you how to form a new family. That, You have to do it alone. And the longer you put it off, the riskier it will be. There are many who would be happy to see our family weaken, waiting for the right moment to strike." I knew she was right, and it bothered me. Nona had always known what was best for the family, for the business. I had trusted her every step of the way. But the idea of getting married of doing this out of obligation, for a legacy-made me uneasy. I wasn't sure who that person would be, or if I was ready to open up this part of my life. "You need a wife, Vincenzo," she continued, leaving no room for doubt. "Someone who can be by your side, who can take care of you and the family's interests. A strong woman who can understand what it means to be part of the Moretti." "But, Nona, it's not that simple. I can't just... pick someone and get married. That's not how it works."

She looked at me with a slight smile, the kind of smile that only a woman of her experience and wit could offer. "Do you think your grandfather and I married for love at first sight? No, Vincenzo. We married because it was what the family needed, and over time, respect and love came. What I'm asking of you is the same. Do what needs to be done to protect our family."

There was a heavy silence between us. I knew that deep down, she was worried. The fact that she was talking about marriage now, so urgently, showed that she feared for her remaining time. She wanted to make sure the Moretti name was safe before she left.

"You always said I had time," I said, trying one last stand. "That I could wait."

"I said that when I had more years ahead of me," she replied, more gently this time. "Now, my dear, time is no longer a luxury we can afford. Age is catching up with me, and you need to be ready to take on what is rightfully yours." I took a deep breath, trying to process everything. Deep down, I knew my grandmother was right. I couldn't put it off forever. The future of the family depended on me, and it wasn't just about me. It was about the business, the employees, everything our lineage stood for.

"So what do you want me to do, Grandma?" I asked finally, accepting the reality of the situation.

"I want you to find someone, Vincenzo," she replied firmly. "Someone who can be your partner, your equal. I'm not asking you to fall madly in love overnight. But you need a wife who understands the weight of our responsibility. I want to see that before I leave. I want to have the peace of mind of knowing that our family legacy is safe in the right hands."

As I spoke to my grandmother, I noticed a subtle movement near the door. Rachel. She was peering in, listening to every word of our conversation. I felt anger bubble up inside me. Who does she think she is, snooping into my life like this? My grandmother was talking about serious matters, and I didn't need some nosy person poking her nose where she didn't belong. I tried to focus on my grandmother's words, but Rachel's presence there, peering in, was driving me crazy. I needed to deal with this, and fast. I excused myself from my grandmother, got up, and headed for the door.