That lady who became my brother's bodyguard, Miss Fanelli, I didn't like her since the very moment she came along. She was obsessed with him. I know. Hell, she said it to Veneziano herself. She did the day she started working for him.

"I have seen you before. It was in a school trip to the Parliament twenty-two years ago. They told us we were going to meet someone special. It was you. We met you. You were so nice to us, sang century-old songs to us and chatted with us about SpongeBob and things kids like us liked by that time. We talked for so long they had to remind you we had to go home. I still keep the photo we took together, see? I am that girl, the one with the ponytails and the missing tooth."

A lot of time had passed, that is true. She had no more milk teeth to lose. She was even taller than both of us. She had developed. She was not a kid anymore: she was a woman. A woman who should have gotten herself a husband, a home, had children and instead of that she worked out and studied to death, she did a lot of nasty work, swallowed piles of merda until she got to be Veneziano's personal bodyguard.

I don't want to discredit her. I didn't think so at the time because I hated her, but now, with some perspective, I see that becoming our escort is twice more difficult than being royalty guard, and she did it on her own. But it is a full time job, they follow us like they are our shadows. I think it's stupid. We need no one to protect us. It's our bosses, who are too apprehensive since global terrorism started. They don't get to understand we are not like kings or ministers. They look us up and still don't get us. That was Fanelli's problem.

She adored my brother. And when I say she adored him, I am serious. You could see that being with him was what made her life worthy. She looked at him in a way that I found shameless. In little time, encouraged by Veneziano, yeah, she started addressing him informally.

Veneziano noticed, of course. He is dumb, but not stupid. In fact, that is the deal: he knew the passion his guard felt for him.

And what did my brother think of it?

He enjoyed it!

Fratello can be innocent like a child, but he is not. Not entirely. He also has his ego. He likes to be loved and pampered. She looked more like his little friend than his bodyguard. Always talking into each other's ears and murmuring. I am sure they didn't talk about Spongebob.

Things got even more irritating as time passed. Fanelli had become my brother's Mary Poppins. They took long walks together, sang, laughed, cooked, played...

The night the whole world was holding its breath after Liechtenstein's kidnapping, what was Veneziano doing?

I opened the door of his room to tell him they had released a note about it and there I found them. Kissing.

Kissing, dammit.

I can't reproach anything to Veneziano because it was her who was on top of him on the sofa. But he knew perfectly what was happening. Hell, did he know. He had a damned hand on her butt. The fucker was enjoying it.

And what did he say to me when I kicked the lady out and asked him for an explanation?

"But I like Carlotta a lot!"

That's what he said! With a pair!

"I see she brainwashed you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm saying I don't know how you can like her."

"What I don't get" he said "is how you can not like her. She is kind, funny..."

"She's a human."

"I know, and there's nothing bad about it."

"There are lots of reasons why that's bad."

"Tell me."

"That's not the question. We had enough scandal with Silvio's parties. I don't want to have the press at the door again because of you."

"It is no scandal! She is not a little friend like Silvio's. I want to marry her."

I must have heard wrong.

"What?"

"I want to marry her. Do you think Bergoglio will do us a pretty wedding?"

"What did you say?"

"I want to marry her."

"What?"

"Carlotta Vargas...Sounds good, doesn't it?"

"You are kidding me."

"No."

"You are pulling my leg."

"I swear, fratello."

At that moment I started considering that my brother's hundreds of years were starting to affect his head all of a sudden. Or maybe Fanelli's influence was more worrying than I thought.

"You can't be serious. You can't."

"Why? I love her."

I looked at him, I saw that gleam in his eyes every time he plans something dumb and not even God coming from Heaven would give him some common sense, and I saw that was nothing a ten-minute lecture could solve. I decided to desist.

"They just said they arrested one of the guys involved in Liechtenstein's kidnapping. I don't know if that girl interests you."

"Poor Liechtenstein. I hope they don't do any harm to her."

"Yeah. Well, you know what this is: kidnapping, calls asking for a ransom..."

I ruined my brother's good mood reminding him of that horrible event, I know. I did it on purpose.

Sadly, I spent that night thinking about damned Fanelli, about that absurd idea she got into my brother's head, and how sure I was that he wouldn't stop until he was at the altar with her. Then what, was the question.

I would have never done such a thing. Well, I didn't have the chance, either: my bodyguard Rocco is married, has two children in college and is going bald but, no, I'd never think of hooking up with my bodyguard. And less if I had met her when she was eight. It's weird. It's ugly.

Oh, well, I was almost thankful that things went to hell in so little time. That way I had more stuff to think about than how much I hated Carlotta Fanelli.