Copyright

Copyright-2020 by November O’Riley. All rights reserved. In no way any part of this publication maybe duplicated, photocopied, published, distributed or transmitted by any means for financial or non financial gains

apart from the brief sections for reviews and publicity without the prior written permission from the publisher.

All characters and incidents of this story is creation of fiction. Any resemblance to reality or real life events, situations, persons, is merely coincidental and unintentional.

Said infringement of the copyright will be handled legally.

Mature audiences only

For the record

I’m trying something new.

Scroll down to find out the first chapter…

Right, incase I didn’t give enough warning in the blurb.

This is a creation of FICTION. TAKE IT LIKE FICTION.

Don’t copy my works.

No bullying or shamming is allowed.

Proceed with caution. And be warned. Sexy stuff ahead. Tehehe.

-N

Prologue

(all rights reserved © 2020 November O’Rile

y)

Angelo, my right hand man, was on a spree to calm me the fuck down while I silently seethed, sitting on my desk chair.

Paper weight in hand, jaw muscles rigid and ticking.

That bitch’s play, and sob story ends today and it’s fucking final.

Tonight’s news was the had bucket of water over the family’s head as the reporter read out the news of our containers filled with cocaine and heroin ready to be shipped.

Somebody had tipped the blasted bastards off.

Somebody had to do it from inside the famiglia, because outside people was not welcome on private news.

Shipments leaving the dock and shipments arriving on the dock was extremely private news.

And the abysmal portion was, I figured out who it was.

I presumed who it was. However it was a guess only, but the relative corroboration and evidence was enough for me to believe why it happened.

And who made it happen.

Angelo, turned off the flat screen not being able to take another moment of blabbering nonsense where a huge picture of my mother and father on vacation was posted on the screen while the numbers of acquisitions were plastered on the name of our family.

My family.

“This is nonsense.” Angelo said chugging the remote control to the neatest sofa. “Utter and absolute rubbish.”

I didn’t reply. Because I agreed with him.

It was utter and absolute rubbish.

“What’s taking her so long.” He whispered slapping his flat phone on the palm of his hand. “Why is she taking so long.”

I remained quiet as I poured myself a glass of cognac and sat back leaning against the back rest of the chair.

Tonight there was a heart and a life on line.

If the given, said and plastered criticism was true, I was going to kill that bitch for good.

I refuse to be week and pathetic in the name of love.

My family, to me, will always and forever come first.

My heart?

I figure somewhere along the way, it will trail behind me, that wanker.

The knob of the office twisted as a voluptuous women made her entry. Her face smothered in a gentle smile.

“Roman.” She said my name like it was honey flowing from the tip of her tongue. “Angelo.” She greeted the man standing across from her, a smoke unlit between the tips of his finger.

“Maria.” I mirrored her tone and rose from my desk. “Fancy a drink, to be wife?”

And just like that, calling her a bitch seemed irrational.

She was beautiful. God she was gorgeous.

Maria flushed. “No. I’ve started my diet. Should cut back, I suppose.”

I nodded as I strode my way toward her. “I love your dress.”

“Why-” she blushed closing the steps between us. “Thank you, husband.”

Don’t call me that. You don’t deserve it.

It rings like lies. Tastes like venom.

Reeks of betrayal.

I took her hand on my free one.

It felt disgusting.

These soft, feminine hands that used to treat me like I was her most expensive thing. These hands that had given me pleasure beyond the limits of this world.

It felt disgusting to hold them, tonight.

I splayed out her fingers and slid the diamond circled engagement off her ring finger.

“Roman.” She whispered. “Honey…”

“Honey.” I repeated looking at her honey brown orbs. “Really, Maria.”

“What’s wrong?” She feigned. “Is there something wrong?”

“I don’t know.” I reply. “Is there, darling to be wife?”

She looked panicked.

“I-”

“Tell me why did you do it?” I asked, her engagement ring confiscated in my hand, I walked over the other side of the desk, unbuttoned my suit jacket and sat in my chair.

“Did what?” She asked.

“If you’d be less difficult, Maria.” Angelo said. “And be more simple and straight.”

“Stay out of it, Angelo.” She snapped in a whispery tone. “I don’t like the accusatory tone, of your voice.”

“Talk with respect, Maria.” I seethed. “He’s still my right hand, you aren’t anything yet.”

“Give me back the ring, and quit playing prank, Roman.” She looked on the verge of tears and a mental breakdown.

“Was this your scheme, since the beginning?” I asked once again.

“Roman.” A beginning edge gripped the end of her voice. “I couldn’t but-”

“You could’ve come to me.” I said.

“They offered me money.” She whispered.

Money.

Money.

Money.

Why does it have to be about money!

“Money.” I repeated. “You sold me for money?”

“Roman.”

“Fucking change your vocabulary, Maria!” I yelled, my fist that had the engagement ring came down in the cherry oak table, rustling the contents resting in top of it.

A tear dropped from her eyes. “I am sorry.”

“You sold, me, my love , my heart , our life, our family, my family, for money?” I seethed. “How much?”

She bit her lip.

“How fucking much, Maria?” I yelled making her jump.

“Ten.” She whispered. “Ten million.”

I laughed.

Ten million.

“Ten million.” I raked both my hands through my hair. “Ten million.”

“Roman.” Angelo warned. “It ain’t worth it, boss.”

Fuck him.

I rose to my full height and marched to her with confident strides.

“Did you ever love me, Maria?” I asked, in the most gentle tone I could muster at this moment.

“I love you, Roman.” She cried. “I love you, but I am so sorry for what I did. I-”

“Jump.” I said.

She looked at me confused yet panic stricken.

“Jump down from the window, Maria.” I repeated. “I wont say it again.”

She looked at me like I was signed and sealed crazy.

“I won’t say again.” I say and press my lips to hers for the last time. “Jump or I’ll kill you. Make this easier for you and me, love .” I whispered against her trembling lips.

She was scared.

Should be.

Maria stood on the window sill of the floor to ceiling window of my study.

Angelo beside me, his hand in my shoulder, silently trying to make me take my word back.

I won’t.

“Roman.” Maria whispered. “I’ll change.”

I remained impassive waiting for her to finish herself.

He luxurious hair whipping about her face, in the later evening air, the salty smell of sea water drifting through the open windows.

Moments passed.

It was no doubt that I stood by my word.

Make this easy for me, love. I said in my mind.

I can’t pull the trigger on your head.

I don’t that kind of courage resides in me.

But this needs to end.

Maria slips.

Not a sound escapes.

Just the wind and a thud.

I drop the ring alongside her, now bleeding body, her body clad in a maroon dress just a dot twenty floor below.

I don’t go down to check if she’s done or alive.

I don’t do anything.

I walk back toward my desk and pour myself another glass of cognac.

“You can let me in, you know?” Angelo said. “I am your brother.”

“I am fine.” I reply loosing my engagement band and dropping it on the waste paper basket.

Tonight, Maria’s death was a statement.

It was a declaration , that who ever crossed me would not live to see a fresh sunrise.

Only her end was easier, because she had my heart.

And she will forever have it.

---

AUTHOR’S NOT E

I figured, I’ll give you guys a peak of the prologue. I realise that it was supposed to come earlier then it did. And for that I am deeply sorry. I concur, that you’ll be able to understand Roman little bit better after you’ve read this and the story has progressed.

Question

Pizza or Pasta?

-if I ever had to choose, I’d say pasta.

-November

01

School was finally done, right?

Not that any of you can relate these days.

But I can.

Online classes aren’t my thing but most of the people I knew in middle school and high school seems to thrilled by the idea of online classes.

Oh, please.

Much more of a physical being girl myself.

I threw the my bag on the small cot of my bedroom, and shrugged off the sweater I was wearing.

London’s weather gets into heat like a werewolf sometimes.

Yes. It’s bastard disgusting.

It rains like a bitch and the sun comes out like a pathetic little shit whenever it wants.

But, Long live the Queen, huh?

I discarded my sweater on the floor and pulled up the tank top I was wearing underneath and one by one shredded all layers of clothing until I was bum naked.

My shoddy room didn’t have any windows. But that’s what was the plus point about this room, in’it?

I could be naked without pervy Paul from the next building looking at my tits and jerking off.

Kidding. There is no pervy Paul.

I sat before my already turned on desktop. I never turned it off last night.

And according to me, I was doing some exigent and dodgy research.

Yes.

I was trying to hack.

But who am I kidding?

I am just some twenty year old lanky kid trying to hack into the mafia database.

Bollocks! Did I just think that out loud!?

Well kill me now. Or nah.

I’m just gonna chill and hit up on the web, see if the codes I put for downloading last night were in or not.

Yup. Definitely in. I thought as I closed the folder named ‘porn’ and fired up Google to get some more information about this organization in particular.

This the uh- DiMariano industries and holding.

The DiMariano industries and holding, was one of the many business line working in Europe, based on Italy.

The were in the oil business, the ship business, the wine exporter, chains of five star hotels all over Las Vegas.

Business was better then kardashians for this organization.

I mean, rich shit turns me on pretty hard and crazy.

Until, in the last month, after this family’s super exotic vacation in a private island in the outskirts of Greece the police found wooden box, labeled with fruit name but filled with drugs.

Drugs.

And then the media broke out, flowing them everywhere.

Not gonna lie, but the eldest hunk of the family is pretty darn good looking in that Armani custom cut suit, giving out an interview standing before a cruise, looking like them Hades from Lore Olympus.

Webtoon, anybody?

I sighed at my screen saver of him.

Tall, dark and handsome.

This witticism must have come in use after the media saw this hot blooded bruiser, walking to his Porsche with a high head and a jaw line that could carve my ovary into his face.

“Blaire!?” I heard the high pitched yell of my landlord aka my roommate aka the women who boosted my ego daily without turning me into a creep.

“Blaire!” Ginna yelled again.

For somebody in her late sixties she surely has some strong arsed vocal chord.

“Coming!” I yell back from the cocoon of my room as I pushed my swivel chair back and got up, to find the shirt I discarded earlier.

Pulling the shirt over my tittys I joined Ginna on the living room.

“Yeah?” I asked. “You hollered?”

“Your mother is on the phone.” She says with a pointed look that terms as. ‘I have no idea why can’t you just be normal’

I am pretty normal if you ask me.

“Uh-why?” I ask frowning. “Didn’t you tell I went on a vacation to some unknown island with my new found boyfriend but a shark ate me so they are now sending back my bones, only?”

“Says she wants to talk go you.” Ginna said with an eye roll. “And none of that thing is believable.”

“Oh trust me, she’ll love for me to get eaten by a shark.” I snorted and made my way to the house phone resting on the corner table.

“Hello, your dead daughter speaking.” I said as glumly as possible. “How can I help you, mother?”

“Blaire, Darling.” My mother’s disappointed voice made it’s way through the lined phone.

I rolled my eyes.

Trust me will be disappointed if the send my bones after I am eaten by a shark, to be honest.

That’s why I blacklisted her number from my phone but the Two faced bitch always finds a way to talk to me in her pathetic voice.

“Yes, mother?” I asked.

“It’s brunch tomorrow.” She says in her cannery like voice. “Do you think you’ll be able to make it?”

Trust me when I say her voice is nothing a cannery, its just a thousand dollar per session at plaza hotel, to learn manners and etiquette.

I’d rather get fucked in the arse to get a thousand dollar.

“Nope.” I say simply. “Besides, mother dear, you wouldn’t want your unmannered girl among your old rich widow friends would you?” I roll my eyes. “I won’t be over, tomorrow or ever, Janice.”

“That’s lovely dear.” She said with a bit of chuckle. “Shall I send some money…” I didn’t let her finish before slamming the receiver in place.

“That’d be lovely, dear.” I mimic her tone in a absurd manner. “Bugger off, Janice.”

“What’s wrong?” Gina asked seeing me cussing myself.

“There is brunch tomorrow.” I say with an eye roll. “As usual. And she called for me to go to.”

“Well maybe you should.” Ginna says glazing on the bagels she made. “You haven’t seen her in two months.”

“Ginna, Ginna.” I say. “I wouldn’t even want to see my father’s murder in a life time.”

Ginna sighs. “Do you want a bagel, Darling?”

“No.” I say. “No sugar. I’ll catch up on my sleep, and the work on the college work. Professors are biting my ears off.”

With that I left Ginna in the living room and walked to my small bedroom, discarding my shirt and sitting before my computer.

This was good distraction for me, to be honest to get away from my mother’s fake world and into a faker world of my own.

But in mine at least I had some kind of place.

And unlike my mother, there was nobody wanting me dead all the time just so she could take away all the money my father kept for me.

I get them after I turn twenty two and if something happens to me before twenty two it goes to her.

I skimmed through the green codes on the black screen, downloading from the web. The internet speed showed 120 megabytes per second.

“Good.” I smiled to myself.

At least I’ll have something to work on through the night after my nap.

Bloody hell! I wonder. How stupid of me.

I am Blaire Anderson, by the way. My father is Bill Anderson and my mother- well you heard about her didn’t you? Not relevant.

Twenty years old, student at King’s college, London. I study computers.

In and out.

I also study men. Hot men.

Ew. That sounds creepy and weird and something a pervert would say.

I just study computers. That’s all.

Pretty boring my life is, if you ask me.

Pretty plain.

But little did I know, God dear, had just sprinkled the right amount, if not more hot flavoured rainbow sprinkles over the the plain bagel dough that was my life.

And imagine.

Hot rainbow sprinkles doesn’t even exist.

02

I stood on the bar corner.

A glass of iced whisky in hand and the other shoved into the pockets of my suit pants.

Hearing the businessman rumble my ears out and to be candid, I felt like shooting each and every one of bragging bastards between the eye and finally finish my drink in peace.

But I was begged to be nice and to keep my cool. It was important for my mother and I wouldn’t besmirch it up. Ever.

Her request was far to important to me then feeling of these good for nothing, assholes with  beer belly’s blood of my fingers.

“And then I bought the whole salvage yard.” The guy across from me laughed waving a porky hand as if he had made the greatest joke of the year.

I took a sip from the whisky glass and nodded politely to acknowledge that I heard him.

“And so very sorry about your engagement breaking off, man.” The same guy said thumping a hand in my shoulder like he was my friend.

Let me rephrase that. He wasn’t my friend. He was a guy who was ten years older then me and a size ten big from me horizontally, who owned a chain of salvage yards across the country.

He basically deals with junk, I throw away.

And I’d very much like for him to move this hand away from my shoulder.

This suit better not get any sweaty handprints because I still have to dance with my mother.

“Get your hands off “ I said looking at the hand placed on my shoulder.

“Damn, bro.” He chuckled mockingly. “Sore topic, eh?”

Frankly, I have no idea what’s so sore about the girl I chucked out from the pent house window after I found she was transferring my family inside news to the journalist group for money.

And not to mention the racket of true rumor it caused through out the national and international media.

Bastards were on our throats at all the time.

My mother couldn’t leave the house on her own without being followed by a bunch of cunts.

And his meaty, sweaty hand was still there.

“I know how it feels to loose a good well pussy, man.” He sighed. “Been there, done that-”

It wasn’t my entire fault for what happened next because first of all, I had asked him to remove his hands from me.

And secondly, I killed that damn good pussy myself, and my father was still mad at me for being a pussy and letting a bitch walk into my life who fucked the whole family up in about just months.

I twisted, the man’s meaty hand and spined him so the front if his body was pressed against the bar area and his hand was still on my grip, twisting.

“Told you to get your hands off me, didn’t I?” I asked. “When I say something, Miller, I demand for it to happen.”

The man grunted.

“I don’t fool around when I say something, I am not your highschool buddy.”

I realise the bastard from my grip and push myself away from the annoyance after ordering another drink.

“Bubba!” My mama loops are arm around mine “Come, meet my friend.”

I sighed as she lead me to a women dressed in a red evening gown with a deep V neck.

Her friend?

“This is Tory, she works at the flowershop for me.” Mama says happily.

“Nice to meet you, Tory.” I say with a curt nod.

“Pleasure is all mine, Don Roman.” She said with a flirting tone, her brown eyes on me and the thin long champagne flute on her hand.

“Likewise.” I say with a smirk.

“I’ll let you to catch up.” Mama chirps. “I’ll go find your dad.” She says patting my shoulder and disappearing from the site.

“Tory.” I assert.

“Don Roman.” She repeated mirroring my tone.

“How’s your gag reflex?” I ask.

“Pretty good.” She smirked and closed the distance between the two if us.

Assuming, it was for the sake of the stilettoes she was wearing she reached my height confidently and leaned against my ear.

“My swallowing game is on point too.” She whispered. “If you’re interested.”

“Oh, I am very interested, Tory.” I smirk, downing my drink in one go and place the empty glass of the tray of a waitress walking by. “And I’d very much like you to show me how on point your swallowing game is.”

Tory just smirked and followed behind me as I led the way to the nearest closed space.

It was a library adjoined with an office room, on the second floor.

“Get in your knees.” I orders closing the door behind me, before turning to face Tory, unbuckling my belt.

The sexy look on her face lingering as lowered herself down on her knees and looked up at me.

My erection sprung free as I pulled down the fly of my pants.

“I like a girl who can take what’s out in her mouth.” I said smirking as I pushed my pulsing cock into a warm hole.

“Damn good.” I whispered, grabbing the girls hair with both my hands in strong fist. Her plans landed in my thighs, frantic to hold on to something as fucked her mouth.

Long and deep thrusts met the back of her throat making her sweet mouth gag.

She certainly had her point in the game, I think with a sneer.

“Don Roman.” I heard the yell of men outside in the corridor followed by heavy knocks.

I push my cock into Tory’s mouth, on out, desperate for a release.

Still and all the wooden door slams open as I give Tory the control.

“What do you want?” I snap craning my neck to see who the fuck it was.

Tory wrapped one of her hand around the   base of my cock, sliding it back and forth while her tongue did the work bringing me to an edge.

I cursed out loud and grabbed a hold of her hair taking my control back where it belongs.

“Are you going to fucking stand there or are you going to fucking talk?” I bark.

“Don, uh- I- we-”

I moan audibly feeling the tautness of my balls finally getting released as I held Tory firm to my cock so she didn’t make a clutter.

I scourge out my cock, going aift and numb from Tory’s mouth and zip it hidden under my slacks.

The girl kneeling on the floor breathes heavily, wiping whatever was left of my cum on her face and licking her fingers clean.

“Good girl.” I say patting her head.

“What are you shitheads standing there for?” I roared out when I saw my well dressed suits standing in a row.

Four of them.

“Well?” I demand pushing both if my hands on my slack pockets.

“Sir we have a firewall breach.” One of them speaks up.

“What firewall?” I frown. “Where is the tech team?”

“Sir-”

“Why did even this come to me and wasn’t solved as soon as it figured out?” I ask. “You think if I had to be informed about every website crashing the other day, I’d just tape myself to a computer, wouldn’t I?”

“Boss- it’s the firewall.” Ricardo speaks out.

“What’s that supposed mean the firewall?”

“The firewall.” He repeats. “The one.”

I don’t wait by for any of theirs bickering but the fact that the four of my men were following me was apparent from their dire footsteps.

“Boss the damage is less but-” One of the tech geeks say as soon as I enter the room in the first floor.

“Damage is less?” I seethe. “You want to talk about the damage you get after I am done with your fucking face, asshole?”

“Boss-” Another guy speaks up. “It’s been breached for seven minutes and the data is worth twentyfive million, this is some dilettante shot, we’ll be able to recover this but a huge array of phone call is in order.” He says. “I mean, who ever did this was bored as fuck because they didn’t steal- wait…no fucking way.”

“What are you shitting about?” I ask pushing the others away and peering over his computer.

“Okay, who ever did this didn’t copy anything from this thing, which is good…”

“How can you tell?” I bark.

“Cause I’d know if it were copied. There would have to be a password access for every folder and clearly none of them have been updated since we last arranged them so- whoever this bitch is, still hasn’t cracked the code.”

Can he stop speaking shit for a moment or I might just punch his nerdy face to nerdy planet.

“So the issue isn’t much.” The boy said. Eli, his name was. Russian.

“But it’s still dangerous. He or she or they have a visual to our deals, and security footages and possibly a code to the swiss bank account.”

“How long for you to restore this?” I ask.

“We have to copy all the data and transfer it to a new one, I say this time a master computer so if the whole team works, the night.” Eli replies. “We’ll be good to go in the morning, boss.”

I nodded. “And how long to find this bitch?” I asked, rage pouring over from every pore of the body.

Fucking bastard.

Has no idea what he’s messed up has he?

“I already did.” Eli says. “It’s a private IP address, locates to London, England. The address is…”

“Send somebody to England.” I order to Ricardo. “I want to have a word with this son of a whore.”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The chapter was supposed to drop on the first of October but honestly, my dumb ass self couldn’t hold it back any longer.

This book is a tad bit different then the other ones. I am fun writing it  I dunno if you’ll have fun reading it, but I do hope you like it? Idk.

Also I dunno if this is too slow a pace or what, I just wanted y’all to get the characters known a bit.

Have a good time.

Question

Tea or Coffee?

• I prefer tea. Like lemon tea.

-November.

03

This was going above my head.

The professor droned on and on about the category of websites. And basics of website creation.

I mean, didn’t we cover this on like twelfth grade or something.

There was two category of website. A static one and a dynamic one.

The basic steps of creating a website is gathering, planning, design, assemble, codes…

God, I sound like such a nerd.

I see a wad of paper thrown in my desk, so I scowl and look back to see which one of the mother fudgers did this.

Is this supposed to be an alpha move?

It’s a pussy move. I roll my eyes.

I straightened out the wad of the paper. It had a single sentence.

Wanna grab dinner tonight, at Sally’s?

Okay what kind of bollocks was this?

I mean, I’d love to go on a date with a super smashing bloke.

But this is just not appealing.

Pussy.

I turn to see again which of the bastard asshole did that. But every single of the soul that sat in the blue chairs seemed as inscrutable as I did.

The class ends in fifteen minutes anyway.

I just have to sit through more fifteen minute of torture.

No antagonism but, the classes are much more fun when professor Binns isn’t taking it.

I bet the lion’s share didn’t get that analogy.

Yeah well, it ain’t fun when I have to explain an analogy so we leave it at that.

I scribble down the notes from the massive arsed black board on my notebook and doodle some characters on the corner to pass time and make it look cute.

When the ancient bell rings declaring the end if last period the professor quickly scribbles down the next assignment for the semester and dismisses the class with an equal bored tone as he spoke throughout the class.

Kinda makes me feel sad, that the bloke is as bored to go home as he is come to the college.

I neatly put my stuff in my bag and close both the chains up and exit the classroom without a second look back.

The incident of the note flung at me just about past recollection.

Well, like I said, almost.

As soon as I exist the castle the building and toward my bike, I get a pull in my forearm.

Not going to lie, I was ready to some karate on the bastard’s face but he raised his hands up in defeat when he saw me forming a perfect punch with my thumb out and knuckles rigid.

“Hey, I was just-”

“Throwing papers at me?” I ask crossing my arms over my chest.

“Well-” the blonde chap shrugs.

Okay, this was one of them fuck boys in the college.

Saw him a bunch of time with a bunch of different girls sitting at Sally’s and eating fish and chips.

And sharing saliva over the bucket of chips.

Eek.

“Is this how you get girls to sleep with you?” I smirk.

“Usually works.” He says.

Can’t believe girls even like this shit.

Disturbing.

“Yeah well, it’s a pussy move.” I say. “Change it up a little, maybe find me around the classroom then.”

He smirks back. “I like you. Never knew you could talk.”

“Yeah well, Now you do.” I roll my eyes.

I hate when they take the quiet girl as the loner girl. I am not a loner girl.

I have a huge load of friends online

Yeah…a voice speaks in my head.

“You want something else?” I ask when I see the blonde not leaving.

“Do you want to grab a bite to eat, my treat?” He asks.

“Nah, I am good.” I reply. “Besides-

“Miss Anderson.” I hear a string voice call.

Who the fuck?

What was this ‘let’s meet new people’ agenda today with God, eh?

Don’t you have someone else to drain, God?

Hey, hello big guy up there!

Well, obviously he ain’t gonna answer.

I roll my eyes and look at the direction of that voice.

A well dressed and suited man walks into my direction.

His eyes covered with shades and he looks like someone who doesn’t belong in a college compound.

Patently. I roll my eyes again.

“Well.” I say to the blonde guy. “Looks like my sugar daddy is here, see you about…”

“Ryan.” He says with a shake of his head. “Not gonna lie, never expected a gal like you to be this…freaky.” He chuckles.

“What do you mean gal like me?” I scowl at him.

“Just the quiet kind.” He says, defensively.

No horseshit but if he came out to be those of them boys “I’ve been admiring you from afar.” I would have sucker punched him on the nose.

Because that creepy and uncomfortable at the same time.

I shake my head and by this time the suit is already standing beside me.

Ryan nods. “See you around.”

Or not. I nod back.

“Miss Blaire Anderson?” The suit asks me. He didn’t have a single hair on his head and was built like a macho.

“That’s me.” I say. “How can I help-”

“We have to talk to you.” The man says without any kind of introduction. “We think you’ve been stickybeaking where you shouldn’t.”

Oh crap.

Shit.

Shit.

Cow shit.

“Uh-” I nervously chuckle. “I have no idea what you mean.”

But no sooner the sentence get out of my mouth, I make a mad dash to the main exit.

Which was probably the worst ideas of the idea I came up with.

If you exclude trying to get into the DiMariano family database and pulling up their deeds from their master computer.

Yeah well, I couldn’t break their central computer password so I didn’t end up with massive information but the little amount I gathered was enough to prove the rumors true.

Under those Armani suits, Prada shirts, Louis Vuitton shoes, they were cold blooded killers.

Mafia.

And I just breached the mafia.

I was running like my life was depending on it but it was the worst idea.

Leastways, those arse buckets cannot do anything to me inside college compound but as soon as I am out side…

Great.

I am out side.

“Miss Anderson.” Another of the suits stood directly in front of me.

“Oh, bugger me.” I cussed shaking my head.

“We were ordered to take you in, nicely.” The man sneered.

He had a very deep accent. Italian.

Great. They were the mafia men.

Not even MI6 or something or police.

Mafia.

“But you don’t play by the rules do you?” He smirks.

“Un-no.” I say. “Not really.”

The man shakes his head. “I’d like for you to come with us, we just want to talk.”

“Oh.” I say feigning surprise. “No thanks, not much of a talker.”

“Alright.” He guy muttered. “è abbastanza.”

(This is enough)

“Did you just bad mouth me?” I accuse.

“Chiudi quella cazzo di bocca.” He hisses and that when I see the ugly loom take over his face.

(Shut the fuck up.)

Big trouble, Blaire.

Big trouble.

Before any of the self defense I could muster, I get clothed.

Shit.

Chloroform.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I decided to put one up again in the morning. Lol. I woke up early finished some pending studies and thought about taking a nap but I can’t, so here it is. I hope you like it.✌✌

QUESTION

Biscuits or cakes?

-Cakes. Like the tea time cakes without any kind of cream or whatever. I developed a strong dislike toward them. Idk why. Smh.

-November.

04

“Un cosa?” I grizzle. “Un ragazza?”

(A what… A girl?)

“Are you fooling with me?” I hissed at Ricardo, as he was standing before the huge desk.

He was fortunate that this desk was between us or else, I would break his head on this very surface till he spoke his mind.

“Boss-this is a chick.” He said feeling uncomfortable. “Who in fact did this whole ruse and got us almost fucked to the world.”

“Do you have her?” I ask spinning the circular paper weight on my desk.

A girl. That makes the job more easier.

“Yes, boss.” Ricardo says feeling a bit uncomfortable. “She’s in the library downstairs, clothed and sedated.”

“Good.” I say. “We need to have a tête-à-tête.”

Ricardo sighs. “She seems like a really simple girl…”

“Yeah well, Ricardo, I am a very simple man.”

“You aren’t going to hurt her, are you?” He asks.

“Why the fuck are you so interested?” I ask craning my neck toward the suited man. “Do you like the girl?”

“It’s nothing of the sort, boss.” Ricardo sighed. “We don’t do shit to girls, I mean it’s a girl!.”

“Well a girl, almost fucked us over, Ricardo. A delinquent is a delinquent. I don’t care a boy or a girl and neither do I have to justify my movements to you, understandable?” I raise an eyebrow.

“Yes, boss.” He bowed from neck down.

“Who commands this family, Ricardo?” I ask.

“You do, boss.” He says.

“Did you swear to omertà, upon my name to lay down your life for the family, no reasons asked, whatsoever?” I ask.

“Sí, boss.” He says in a string tone.

“You may as well remember it.” I reply, in  trying commanding tone. “Make arrangements to wake up sleeping beauty, you’re dismissed.”

Ricardo vowed from neck down and turned, exiting the office.

A girl huh?

I flip the blue plastic folder open.

Blaire Anderson. Twenty. English.

Department of computer science and engineering, King’s college.

Well that explains it.

She’s a nerd.

Annoyed and uninterested, I slap the file back on my desk and lean back.

“Hey bubba.” I hear my mother’s voice, she peaks her head through the door.

“Mama.” I say. “Do you need something?”

“Do you want to come and get some ice cream with me?” She asks excitedly.

“I don’t know.” I reply. “What did dad say?”

She pouts. “He said no…”

“Then no it is, darling “ I smile barely at her.

“But I really want ice cream.” She pouts and whines.

“Then order ice cream.” I say.

“No, I wanna go out and get those cones from the café or a truck.”

“Pretty sure not possible, Darling.” I say. “Why don’t you just send somebody to get you a bucket and some waffle cones?”

She pouts. “It’s not the same.”

I raise my eyebrow at her.

She huffs. “Fine.” And slams the door close on her way out and I hear her yelling for somebody to get her a five litter bucket of chocolate and almonds.

Ricardo entered the room some minutes later when I am going through the stock market prices.

“She’s awake, boss.” He says.

I get up without a single word and pocket my .22LR ammo and walk out if the office with Ricardo behind my heels.

I swing open the door to the library downstairs clinching a jump from pur dear lady hostage.

“Out, Ricardo.” I snarled at the suited man standing behind me.

His face flashed with concern and fear before he gave a nod and closed the door behind him.

Our lady hostage was seated on a chair. Or tied up rather.

Ignoring the grunting through the gag and futile attempts of her to get herself loose from thee restraints, I pull up a chair and sit in front of her.

Her eyes were tied with a blindfold and gagged.

She jerked her hands in a way to get them loose.

“Miss Anderson.” I begin.

She makes a gagging noise. I am sure that would be a cuss word thrown at me if she wasn’t gagged.

I’ve dealt with delinquent girls before and this was not a first timer.

I swerve close to her immobile self along with my chair and abruptly pull the gag out of her mouth.

“Talk.” I order.

“Get me the fuck out of here, you son of a bitch.”

“Alright.” I chuckle. “Why don’t you calm the fuck down and talk, putta”

“Don’t you fucking dare to call me names, you fucking bastard.” She hisses and raises a leg to kick me on the stomach, I grab it midway, hard enough to inflict pain and impel it down.

“You arsehole.” He says in her stupid accent. “Let me go this instant or I’ll fucking kill you, I know karate, I’ll fucking ruin your balls you bastard let me fucking go!” She cried in despair.

Pretty sure that one shove on her pretty little girl leg, has hurt her but as much as the despair was in her voice there wasn’t no tear gushing out from her eyes.

So not pathetic as I thought. I like it.

I tug the blindfold abruptly and the black cloth falls on her lap.

Eyes so blue stare at me with anger thumping on them.

“You!” She hisses. “You asshole!”

“You talk like you know me.” I say impassively. “Did we fuck?”

Because at this point I have no idea why a girl who no mentionable background whatever, would try to hack me.

“What?” She gasps.

Okay. I definitely never fucked her. Atleast not this year.

I don’t think I’d fuck a flat chested…women. Ever.

Under that loose sweater she looked pretty tit-less to me.

“Did I fuck you one of these days and left you, Is that why you’ve hacked me? Did I forget to pay your pathetic self after I was done breaking your pussy, cucciolo?”

(Puppy)

“Wh-” she snorts.

How unlady like. I roll my eyes at the disgusting sound she just made with her mouth and nose.

“Talk, Blaire Anderson, before I empty my mag inside that nerdy head of yours.”

“You’re a loser.” She hissed. “And frankly, I bet you have a fucking tiny cock…so no I’ve never fucked you. I don’t fuck losers with to y limp dicks.”

A loser, am I?

“Very well, Miss Anderson. Have a good day.”

Small cock, eh? I don’t think she’d think I was small once I was done with that tit-less body of hers.

I shove the gag back on her mouth but she does put up a good fight against me but it all goes down when I seize her hair to tilt her face back and shove the silicon ball between her teeth and smirk.

“I like you better this way.” I said slapping her cheeks enough to cause pain but not to leave marks.

She looked at me like she was about to blow fire at my direction. I recoiled at her childish attempts to show her anger.

“Now, if you’ll spare me.” I say adjusting the cufflinks before putting my hands inside my slacks picket and take a moment to admire my handiwork.

Gorgeous.

“I have work to do that doesn’t involve running my nose through other people’s piss.” I say before leaving the library locking the door on my way out hearing some crick-craking of her said movement trying to get loose.

The little bitch will stay like that until she learns how to talk with respect.

Until then, she might just as well be gagged and tied up.

“Boss.” A panicked Ricardo comes into view as I take my first step toward the staircase that leads upstairs to my office.

“Yes?” I turn.

Now what? And why is he panicking like a cobra bit his cock?

“There is an ice cream truck in the front yard. It’s Donna Coralyn.”

“So?” I raise an eyebrow. “If my mother called an ice cream truck because she wanted to eat ice cream, nobody really has any say in that matter, do they?” I ask.

“No boss.” Ricardo sighed. “Should we at least hint Don DiMariano and your brothers?”

“No.” I say. “I’ll handle this.”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I literally did it again. Smh. The next update will be on third of October. Sorry to make you guys wait.

Have fun, till then. Let me know what you think.✌

Question

Windy weather or Rainy weather?

-windy. Def. Because everything cools down without making me drench. So yeah.  Windy.

-November.

05

Positivity Corner:

Somethings will always separate you, no matter how much you are connected.

I thought being gagged and tied up was sexy in a way.

It wasn’t.

It was painful and scary and it hurt.

And the room smelled of fucking old books, and stale air as if it hasn’t been cleaned in ages and as if countless rats and roaches has been deed for centuries.

Ew. Rats.

I yank the restrains trying to get myself loose from the armed chair but nothing works.

I’ve been sitting here gagged for hours. After trying to scream for some minutes, I realised it’s not really helping because it wasn’t a cloths or anything.

It was a ball, a hard silicon ball, shoved between my teeth preventing me from any kind of jaw muscle movement.

It hurt. It was epitome of pain I received in my twenty year of life.

Who would’ve thought that the man behind the dark shades was equally a bastard as the televisions portrayed him to be.

Even though it was dark still when he had came into this room and demanded for me to talk.

I mean, talk what?

And then he straight up asks if we’ve ever fucked.

Yes, honey. In my dreams. Every night. I wanted to say.

There was no lying that I was obsessed with the eldest of the trio ever since their rusty rumors broke out on the media channels.

I mean.

He was hot.

He was the kind of the man who would have any women, any women on her knees with just one look of his eyes.

But he was also a kind of an asshole.

Empty aside from the feeling of some sort of savage happiness in peoples discomfort.

Asshole. A disturbing asshole is what he was to keep a girl tied up in his library for over hours without the curtsey of food or water or basic help.

I felt like I could cry.

It was that uncomfortable.

I knew I was fucked the moment I saw those suited men in front of the college and the one called out for me.

I tilted my head back in expiration. The process of breathing was tough on this stale room.

Is this how the big bad mafia tortures their captive.

Sort of lame, if you see the lack of imagination in this gagging and tied up crap.

I hear the subtle sound of door opening and bright light from the hallway enters the dark as my life room.

“Have you learned your lesson?” I hear the same voice, thickly laced with an Italian accent almost as if he is constantly switching between Italian and English.

I didn’t know I was supposed to learn a lesson.

“Miss Anderson.” He said again, I just grunted in response and rolled my eyes at the antics of this fucking man.

How dare he and his pack of suited dogs.

I felt the gag being jerked off from my mouth and I spit it out.

I hope it hits him in the face.

That’d be a blight to a very good face.

“Now.” He said again and I heard the screeching of a chair being pulled close. “I do hope you’ve learned your lesson, Blaire. Because I’d like a straight answer that makes sense.”

I was fuming.

I wanted nothing but to kick him on the balls and hear him screech in pain and agony till he toppled over.

I fisted my hands.

If this bastard was as strong as he claimed to be, he should let my hands free so I can at him.

Asshole.

“Why did you do it, Blaire?” He asks.

My name sounds so weird from his lips but so soothing at the same time.

“I was bored.” I replied feeling the soreness on my throat from being gagged and no water since, I have no idea when.

“Bored.” He repeats the word after I’ve said it.

How does the word sound so different when he says it?

“Bored.” He repeats again.

And then it is followed by a crushing sound as if something hits a wall and it makes me jump on my seat.

Jesus fucking Christ. What is wrong with the chap?

There is some more trashing around the room and I whip my neck around to see where from they are coming and even if I am in some remote danger or not.

“Bored.” He spits and I feel a tug in my hair that makes my head lean back with a jerk and my eyes meet his.

“You were bored.” He asks, his face inches away from mine. “Is that why you decided it would be a fun activity for you to blow up my whole family’s coverage?”

“I-” I start.

I hadn’t thought it that way.

“Yeah- you what?” He asks.

But his voice was laced with malice and disgust.

To be honest, I had no idea what I was doing until I finally did it.

And never have I ever thought that they would get to know about this shit.

I mean…ugh.

“Let-let go of my hair.” I spat out.

“Why, Blaire?” He hisses. “Does it hurt?”

It does.

But I am not some pathetic damsel in distress trying to give a fuel to his sadistic pleasure.

He tugs my hair more tighter and rougher.

A flinch leaves my mouth from the abrupt force.

“I take, it hurts, doesn’t it?” He asks his hand tightening around my hair to a point of pulling them from the roots. “Answer me.” His voice rasps.

Just not from fear or anything. From anger.

“Y-yes.” I wince. “Let go.”

He does.

He kicks the chair I was tied on making it topple and skid and finally land.

I let of a shriek of horror as I land in my head. But thank God, the floor was carpeted because it doesn’t hurt that much.

I wince when he picks up the chair from the ground and placed one of his foot between my legs.

“Why don’t you untie me, huh?” I hiss from rage. “You fucking asshole, you love to push out the tied and restraint don’t you? Think it makes you a big man?” I scoff.

“Blaire.” He warns. “You will address me with respect. You owe your life to me and so you’ll act like it, am I clear?”

“I don’t owe you shit!” I spit on his face. “I am here against my will you fucking sadist. I don’t owe you shit.”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

There was a gun pressed on the centre of my head.

“Not so mouthy now, are we?” He asks, his voice laced with malice and danger.

Stupid Blaire. Dumb Blaire.

“You wouldn’t shoot me.” I grin.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t, Blaire.”

“I have your swiss bank account code and password.” I blurt out.

He chuckles. But it’s a shirll one. Cold and scary.

He jabs the gun harder on my head. “Only more reason to keep you quiet.”

Oh God.

“No.” I say. “Don’t shoot.”

“Oh?” He asks. “Scared are we?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I’m not scared of someone with a tiny cock, Roman.” I smirk.

Blaire, you’re so dumb.

I hear the clicking of the gun, the metallic sound as of echoes through the silent room.

The door opens again.

“Bubba!” There is an exclaim mixed with a admonishing tone. “Dinner time. You is making everybody late!”

I hear Roman sigh.

Sorry boss. Playtime is over.

“I’ll be down in two, love.” He says.

The door closes again.

“Playtime is not over, Blaire.” He says and the gag is shoved back into my mouth.

Fuck this bastard.

Fuck him to hell.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I don’t really have anything to say apart from this is book is literal shit and doesn’t make any sense. I am not a good writer or whatever. Fuck this.

Questions:

Warm bath or cold showers?

-cold showers. It makes me forget once the shivering comes and goose pimples appear. Therapeutic.

-November.

06

It must be late.

Really late when someone else comes into the room.

It has been past hours since I encountered with Roman last and since then I’ve been pretty much drained.

Yeah, well what do you expect? I haven’t had a fucking morsel of food in my mouth since the breakfast and I don’t know how long has it been.

Two days.

I am fucking hungry.

I could gobble up that sexy monstrous bastard, I could.

But I’d rather not.

He’s got a real tiny dick to treat a women like he does.

Asshat.

I hear the faint sound of the door clicking open and the light from whatever hell hole was outside sweep into the room as somebody steps in.

The gag gets taken out of my mouth and I give out a heave of satisfaction as I breathe in though my mouth and let out.

My lings feel like it’s working again.

“Hey, love.” I hear a soft womenly voice.

Damn.

I swear I am straight.

I am not into fxf dominatrix and sub play.

Oh my God, what is this place.

Why are people so weird here.

“I am going to untie you, okay?” She said but there was a motherly edge to her voice.

I wanted to believe there was a motherly edge to her voice.

But the alien in me said not to, because I’ve never known what a motherly tone felt like.

“There, honey.” She said. “You’re untied. I am Coralyn.” She added.

Coralyn.

Coralyn DiMariano, the women of the family.

Oh, goodness, is she as fucked up and monstrous as her son?

Well bugger me to the moon and Mars to Jupiter, I don’t want to stay in this place.

This is disgusting.

She must have sense my panicking.

“Hey, love.” She said. “It’s okay. You’re okay, Darling. Why don’t you try to get up, sweetheart. Do you hurt somewhere?” She asks gently.

Okay.

She’s talking to me real nicely. Is she one of them good person or a female asshole?

“There, Darling.” She smiles. “You can stand.” She states as if I wasn’t supposed to stand.

She’s not going to shoot me in the knee caps is she?

Oh, the mafia be so scary, man.

“There, sweetness.” She cooes. “Try and walk, let’s get out of this wretched room, not fond of it myself.”

I nod at her words.

If it was London and I wasn’t captive, I would find her over friendly behavior creepy and no doubt that I’d punch her in the face if she tried to act like a mother to me.

I have enough motherly experience with my own to last me a lifetime, thank you very much.

I follow the women and walk out of the room and for the first time in two days, I think the light hits my eyes making me wince and close my eyes back automatically.

“Awe, sweetheart.” She says running my shoulder.

The women is petite. Like a small.

Her face portrays a gentle happy smile, and honey brown eyes shining with purity and her hair looked luxurious.

This is what y’all do with money?

Must be fancy.

Who am I to imagine luxury, eh?

Just a peasant.

Never mind me.

“Come I’ll show you to the guest room and you can wash away these um-” she seemed hesitant. “Dirt and have someone bring you some warm food so you can get a shut eye.”

“No.” I say frantically. Whatever composure I had vanishing into thin air.

“You don’t understand. I need to get away from here.” I repeat.

“Uh-honey.” She says in a soothing voice. “Come on, have something to eat at least, you’re hungry.”

I couldn’t deny that I was.

I was so darn hungry.

The women leads me to a well lit room after climbing two sets of staircase.

What was this Buckingham palace?

After she asks somebody to bring up piping hot food, her words not mine and some night cloths from her closet she sighs.

“There is a bathroom, go wash yourself, Darling. You’ll feel much better after a warm bath.”

But I was adamant.

The women was persuasive as fuck so I ended up taking a both in the bathtub with warm water and anti bacterial body wash and when I finally left the bathroom I felt a new person.

Huh!

That’s what happens when you give a peasant the luxury of ze Mafia.

Fucking Italians.

A chemise made from very fine silk with lace borders and matched tiny shorts with lace trim was waiting for me on the edge of the bed.

Whew.

I might give a second thought about  being a prisoner if this is the treatment they provided.

I wouldn’t mind the food that was just room serviced to me in a trolley with those dome like lids and fresh food with steams rising above them.

Oh, suite life of Blaire, in a mafia household.

I sat in the bed and gobbled down food worth of two days with a maid elegantly dressed and obediently waiting by the edge of the bed.

“Thank you.” I say suppressing the urge to a burp. “Where is the lady though?”

“Miss Anderson.” The maid said, in a robotic tone with out a hint of feeling I’m her voice.

“Mrs. DiMariano not a commoner lady or someone who works for you, she’s the former Donna of this household and like a mother to us, she is even though, mega friendly with everyone, and loves everybody just the same and we love her if not more, but, please do refer to her as Donna Coralyn or Mrs. DiMariano. The bosses don’t like her to be adressrd otherwise.”

“Whoa.” I snorted. “I am sorry, I didn’t know how I should refer Donna Coralyn.”

“It’s okay, Miss Anderson” The maid continued in the same drone like voice. “Madam asked for me to tell you that you go to sleep after you’ve been fed and she wishes you a very good night.”

“Thank you.” I nod. “Please, do tell Donna Coralyn that I am so very thankful for her help.”

What? I can be polite when I want to.

I didn’t always throw fire from my mouth.

You’re all deranged.

I am nice to people who are nice to me.

The maid nods and bows from the neck down, towing the trolley before her and closing the door behind her.

Weird. I think.

A bunch of hooligans, the lot of them.

Apart from the Donna Coralyn.

Even though she is over friendly and sounded creepy at first, she seems like a nicer person.

I mean I’ve seen her on TV, getting attacked by the media workers and all but that’s all.

I flopped down on the bed with a sigh.

What a rotation in two days huh?

From college go getting kidnapped to almost getting murdered to here.

You know what?

This bed is hella comfortable. I am just going to sleep and think about leaving tomorrow.

I do not wish to stay here a day longer even if they serve fucking royal buffet for breakfast, lunch and supper.

Maybe I’ll reconsider about the Buffet’s…

Uh- no.

I’m just gonna sleep and think tomorrow.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I’ll upate another chapter now, and we will have the next chapter around 10th or 12th. I am sorry for them belated chapters and short ones. I am trying to sort my life out, in a proper way. I hope you understand.

Questions:

Fluffy socks or slippers?

-slippers.

-November.

07

Anger erupted from the innermost part of my whole body, as my hands trembled and ached for something to hit on.

My mother.

My own mother.

She went out of bounds to free a fucking delinquent, who was almost at fault for our family’s exposure, vulnerability and submission.

My mama. My sweet angel of a mother, she went ahead and freed a wanted prisoner to give her a guest room suite.

“Are you going to calm the fuck down?” My younger by three years brother asked. A whisky glass on his hand, lazy leaning against the wooden desk of the study room.

“I cannot fucking calm down.” I reply with gritted teeth. “How do you even utter that sentence, Adrian?” I pointed him with a seething gaze.

He rolls his shoulder and stands straight. “So what, mama was feeling bad for the putta.” He voices. “She feels bad for everybody, but you are a dumb bastard to let that slip while she was present.”

Well why don’t you slaughter me for that, huh?

“A dumb bastard.” I repeated playing the sentence over my head.

“Look man.” Adrian sighs. “I am sorry alright. You can’t expect mama to know about a prisoner and not free her.”

“You’re lucky I haven’t flung you outside the window yet.” I utter pouring myself a glass of scotch. “Or blew your liver out for that matter.”

It was late and I wanted to sleep and face this messed up shit in the morning when I am less exhausted and less aroused for the mercy of the Lord.

“Well, you’re still the bastard.” Adrian muttered finishing the drink with one go. “I’ll see you in the a.m.”

I ignored the man, walking out the study room, closing the door behind him with a click and I light up a blunt.

There was no addiction on my part, whatsoever.

It just helps me get a full night sleep without waking up in the middle.

It’s what they say, a wine maker is never an alcoholic.

A drug Lord is never a drug addict.

The door opened again as soon as I blew the second puff of the blunt and pinched the end to remove it from my lips.

“Mama.” I addressed the tired looking women ready for bed but still looking somewhat hassled.

“Bubba.” She responded right back with a sigh. “You seem…”

I raise an eyebrow placing the roll of drug between my lip and inhale a burnt essence of marijuana after lighting it up for the second time.

“You seem so stressed.” She said in her soft voice. “Are you mad at me for what I did?”

“No, mama.” I reply. “Upset, of course, but not mad at you, love.”

She sighs. “I am sorry, bubba.”

“Mama.” I shake my head. “What do we say about apologizing?”

“It weakens your power to others and we loose respect.” She replied like a parrot.

I had my doubts that she would never abide by that. She never does as free spirited as she is.

“Right.” I nod. “Are you ready for bed?”

She nodded and smiled lazily at me. “It’s just the girl was so much in pain so I thought she could really help with a bath and bit of food…”

“It’s alright, ma.” I say squashing the half finished blunt in an ashtray and gulping my drink with one go. “Let me walk you to bed so you can sleepy go bye.”

She nods girlishly and I follow her out of the office room and into the bedroom she occupies upstairs with dad.

She gets into the room that heavily smells of roses that was placed on the centre table, a fresh batch from the gardens twice a day.

I help her on to the bed in a sitting position as she pulls the cover up to her knees  and  grins at me.

“Do you know when papa is going to come back?” I ask kneeling beside the bed, her small hands clasped in mine.

She shakes her head. “Some time around the next week, he only left last night so can’t say.”

I nod and lean up to place a kiss on her head. “Sweet dreams, love.”

“You too, bub.” He says giddily. “I love you.”

“I love you mama. Call if you need anything, Adrian is just next door.” I say placing kiss in both of her cheeks and she returns the kisses before laying down and closing her eyes.

I turn off the lights before I walk out of the room only to meet my youngest brother. Julian.

“Oh, you put her to bed?” He asked exhaling as if he ran a marathon. “I was supposed to do that tonight.”

I nod. “God forbid, if you remember something.”

“You’re pissed.” He utters. “Is it about the girl?”

I keep my breathing calm and ignore Julian following behind me, the wet sole of his rubber snickers making a disturbing sound on the floor.

He follows me into the office and pours himself a drink from the bottle on the same glass I was using.

I sit on the chair behind the office desk and bring out the schedule of the next day.

“Dude.” Julian asks sipping the whisky. “I still don’t get it, I mean you haven’t let out a single word from interrogation, why the putta did that?”

“She was bored.” I replied not bothering to look up at him and arranged the five paged detailed schedule according to time.

“Bored.” Julian snorts. “Of course, them Brits.”

I ignore him.

“So what’s the plan for her?” Julian asks.

“Initially it was to keep her tied and hungry till she died but I should have poked three holes in her head as soon as she woke up.”

Julian sits on one of the chair placed opposite to me.

“I have a plan.” He said.

“Your plans fail.” I say.

I would believe that a women in her menopause got pregnant then believing that Julian’s plan work.

He was shit.

Both of my brothers were shit, goof for nothing sods.

At least not centering the family.

“You’re going to love this.” He said.

“You’re a mistake.” I reply not yet looking up at him.

“Well, so are you and so is Adrian.” He says with an eye roll. “Shut the fuck up and listen.”

“You know what?” I ask slamming the papers on the desk. “I’m going to bed, I am sleepy, tired, angry, fucking horny and you can leave.”

“Just saying that we have a dancer short at the club.” He says. “You can put her to work.”

“She doesn’t have what it needs to be a stripper. She looks like a fucking ten year old boy with a barely 32 a cup set of tits, what makes you think she can bring me money?” I ask intertwining my fingers on my desk top “And what makes you think I care about some extra wad of cash thrown at my desk? You think I work for money? You consider me some low life errand bitch?”

“Look-Roman.” Julian sighed. “Must you be such an asshole?”

“What makes you believe that I am a tramp?” I ask my eyes till fixed on the paperwork. “I am the motherfucking Don of this family. The Goddamn boss.”

“You’re not a beggar, man. Look just-” He replies defensively.

“You can leave, Julian.” I say, my eyes piercing into his. “Next time fucking remember about your mother, and when she needs what she needs when it’s your day to take care of her.”

“Yes, boss.” Julian snorted. “Have you seen it?”

“What?” I ask.

“Her tits?”

“What makes you think there is something to see?” I raise an eyebrow.

“She could be a 36 or a 38…just saying, trying won’t hurt would it? Besides… The stage four is almost closed so one fourth of the club is almost closed…”

“I’ll think about it.” I say. “For now, just leave me alone and leave my alcohol.”

“Whatever.” Julian says and gets up to leave. “Just let me know what size she is.”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I’ll see y’all on the tenth or twelfth. Until then hmu on Instagram or here, if you need me. Bye!

Questions:

What’d you prefer as an ideal friends day out/girls day out?

-November.

08

The  same drone like maid came in the next day to given me breakfast and lunch.

I had nothing to do all day and when the maid got me breakfast she said, it was tightly prohibited for me to step a feet out of this room unless ordered otherwise.

If you take a consideration toward their language and behavior toward you, you’ll feel that they are a bunch of snob with guns.

They seem like the kind of person who cringes to dissect a fatal pig or a frog.

But I get most of the people cringes to dissect them, so that doesn’t really narrow their category exactly ten person in the whole wide world.

So as I was prohibited like I was some trespasser, I lounged the whole day in bed and caught up on my lack of sleep for the past two months as the coming midterms was talking a vicious toll on me.

I guess, not anymore.

Take that college.

The sun went down long ago and I was obediently waiting for my dinner as I wondered if them rich people eats snacks through out the day or what?

Because if they did, I sure as hell didn’t get any.

Are they too posh to eat chips or fruit roll ups or something?

I sighed as plopped myself back on the bed but the faint click of the door opening had me sitting up in attention.

Oh, it’s just the maid.

Whatever.

I laid back down so she can do whatever she wants and leave for fucks sake.

She’s not exactly the fun person to be around you or whatever.

“Miss Anderson.” She stated. “You’re requested to an audience with Don Roman before dinner.”

I sighed. “Can you be so polite and tell him that I don’t give a fuck about him?”

The maid ignored my sentence and placed some garments in the bed. “You’re required to dress up with the things he sent for you and I’ll accompany you to the primed location.”

“Did you not hear what I said?” I ask in incredulity. “Are you even paying…”

“Miss Anderson, you don’t pay me therefore I am not entitled to follow any of your orders.” The maid said in her same monotone. “The boss wants you in ten minutes and he doesn’t like to wait.”

“Tell your boss to fuck himself till his dick falls off, why don’t you?” I seethed as I got down from bed and angrily yanked down the dress I was wearing from my body and proceeded to pull the lingerie laid out for me to get into.

What kind of sick person does that?

And why was I even getting ready for the scum scrapper anyway?

If I knew this would be the outcome of my playtime, I would bash my computer to Mars so the aliens could play games or whatever.

This is just sick. I thought as I looked myself on the mirror.

I was not exactly on the huge side but not on the small side either. I was a 34 b at very decent size, thank you very much.

The push up bra in lace and stone dangling from the middle, hoisted my breasts up in an alluring manner and the thong matching to the bra barely covered my front and back assets.

I pulled down the dress that came along with the bra and panty and angrily turned to the maid.

“There do I look slutty enough for your boss?” I seethed.

“I am afraid you do not, Miss Anderson.” She says turning to leave and hinting that I should follow her. “He’s seen better, as a matter of fact.”

My jaw was down from her comment but nevertheless, I followed behind her, crossed two arched corridors, and three sets of stairs before finally walking through another corridor and landing in front of a double wooden door.

The golden nameplate plastered to the middle of the door read Roman DiMariano.

“Well screw you too.” I rolled my eyes as the girl knocked on the door one and then again.

“Come in.” Came the devil’s voice and the maid obediently pushed the door open and almost hurled me inside and closed the door behind me.

No compassion what so ever, that bitch.

Scowling I looked in front of me.

There was already an audience with him.

Or two.

I knew the one standing on his left while he sat in a chair was the second spawn of devil and the one in the right was the third and the last spawn of devil.

The three of them was dressed in suits, the elder was looking expressionless and the younger ones looking smug as fuck.

“I want to interview, miss Anderson alone.” Roman said.

Now that I remember, it’s the first time I have seen this asshole face to face with proper lightning and he looked edible.

His eyes were dark, his skin was tanned so very good to make Kim K, jealous. His lips were plump. Deep brown that could pass as black hair was neatly styled.

Yummy. But he’s an asshole.

I could eat him, but bet he would taste like shit.

I could kneel for him but I bet he wasn’t big enough to hit me right back on my throat.

The younger brothers leaves the room without a pin falling sound.

I don’t understand how do people maintain that kind of quietness around.

It makes me nervous.

“Alright, Blaire.” Roman smirked leaning back against his chair and pushed something, that resulted music pouring out of thee walls of the study room.

“Strip for me.” He ordered, the smirk still lingering on his lips and eyes, so dark.

“Are you joking?” I asked crossing my arms over my chest, protectively.

“Is this some kind of humiliation kink that you’re into?”

“No.” He says impassively. “I asked you to strip as simple as that.”

“Why?”

“Never question me.” He gritted out. “Strip, I do hope you know how to.”

“I don’t want to.” I said protectively.

“Virgin.” He sniggered. “Even better.”

“Roman can you not!” I hissed, feeling insulted and insecure.

“What is wrong with you, mate?”

Honesty what was wrong with him?

Wiring faults?

He stood up and strode toward the direction of me, my arms was still crossed over my chest, trying to protect myself.

I don’t like this.

The way he’s looking makes me feel like I am  some cheap meat he wants to buy from a market.

“If you don’t follow orders given to you, Blaire.” Roman said standing directly in front of me. “I’ll have to compel you to follow them and when I do so, it won’t be fun and games.”

“You’re all bark.” I smile at him. “Out of all the threats you’ve given me, I have seen nothing that has been administered.”

“You want to see threats administered do you?” He asks.

“Very well.” He slowly circles my and stands directly behind me

I smirk even though he can’t see me.

He can’t do no shit. He’s like them street dogs a bark no bite kind.

He was behind me and I’d say he had more advantages given the chance that he had enough access.

Roman pushed me roughly toward the desk.

I wasn’t really tall at 5’2 height but I was really short compared to him and he was bigger and stronger.

I braced myself against the table with both of my hands grabbing the edges.

Angry, I whipped my face toward him. He was looking angry, his eyes more distant and feeling less, his jaw rigid.

Striding toward me he grabbed a hold of my hair in a pony tail and tugged lightly enough to cause pain but also to get my blood flowing in all the right directions.

He tilted my face far enough to meet his dark brown eyes. They were on fire.

Blue to brown, it made my stomach turn in ways I thought it was never possible.

“You want to see how my threats work out, Blaire?” He asked, in a voice that had me melt like ice cream. “I’ll have you tied up right there.” He points to the right wall which was empty unlike the left wall.

“And I’ll fuck you, till your pussy shudders in explosion from my cock.” He roughly says.

His free hand now on my stomach. It’s on fire.

His hand slides up my body, the whole body is one fire.

With every trail he leaves on my body the skin is burning and then as soon as his callused skin leaves me, its ice cold water poured on me.

Flashes. Hot and cold, all over my skin.

His palm rests on top of my left boob. I feel my nipple harden, from barely the warmth of his big hand.

“And then I’ll turn you over.” He whispers. “And I’ll fuck you from behind again, till you’re screaming and the only thing that’s left inside you is the air from my lungs and my cum, dripping down your ruined pussy.”

I moaned.

Jesus f-ing Christ.

Was that a threat? Or a call for worship.

Not that I would mind.

Like…ever.

I wouldn’t mind his cum dripping from my pussy after he’s done with me.

In fact that’s one of the things I’ve dreamed about since I got unhealthy obsessed with his face.

“I’ll ruin you, Blaire.” He whispered. “I’ll ruin you so you shy away from everything that’s holy in this world and the only thing you can feel and think, is my cock, inside you.”

“I dare you do it.” I whispered, our still connected but unlike his, mine were glistening with malice and his were blank.

“And then I’ll drag you to the dungeons and throw you at my wolves.” He says letting go of my hair roughly after squeezing my boob possessively as he pushes himself away from my body and straightens up his suit, adjusting his cufflinks.

“So, unless you want to be fucked till your brain stops working and you want to ripped from limb to limb by my wolves, you keep your tongue in place.”

I straightened up, crossing my arms over my head. “You’re such a jackass.”

He ignores my comment.

For a moment I was really turned on by his ruthless dirty talk.

I mean if he wanted to do those things to me, I was game. Except the wolf part. That sounded disturbing.

Heck, I’ve been game for that monster dick since I saw his face on TV.

“From tomorrow you’ll join one of my clubs as a strip dancer.” He says walking toward his chair and taking a seat. “You’ll be accompanied by my youngest brother and work shifts as a normal dancer minus the money.”

“That’s disgusting.” I point out. “Not only you’re letting a women being objectified without her permission, you’re also being an asshole and not offering money.”

He presses a bell on his desk.

The maid enters the room and escorts me out.

Guess I don’t have a say, do I?

It sucks. My life sucks.

Roman doesn’t spare a glance at me after that.

What an asshole.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This is a new book and all, I get it, every book need time to take off or burst out. I don’t have major expectations with this book. I don’t think I have any expectations with this book. It’s gonna suck one way or other. So. Yeah.

And please do

comment and vote.

It really helps me and shows how supportive you bunch are. I am thankful for the amount of love you give me. Thanks.

Questions:

Would you rather have riches to last a life time without love OR love to last a lifetime without the riches?

-Riches.

-November.

09

I have seen my fare share of strip dances on…websites.

Let’s not go there.

I’ve watched women wear leather and rock like a fucking sexy minx.

I looked like a cheap shit

I journeyed to this club, called “Minx” before five in the evening today. After my talk with Roman last night, I figured nobody in this house could help me anyway.

I tried reaching out for Donna Coralyn but as said I was strictly prohibited to step a filthy fucking feet out of the room.

So I asked the maid if she could get and fetch the sweet women.

She refused me saying Donna was out of the estate for her date with boss.

That sounded weird as fuck to my ears so I shut the fuck up.

And then as it was four thirty I was asked to follow the maid out of the room, she lead me to a garage where a car was waiting with this Julian, the third spawn of devil sitting inside.

He flashed me a lopsided grin as I slid on the seat beside him and offered me a cigarette.

I declined.

I wasn’t really in a mood to make friends at this particular moment.

I was pissed.

It took us twenty minute to reach the club.

Then I was dragged by a number of women to a brightly lit room with two full wall mirror and a giant make up desk.

One of the girl with pink hair busied herself in measuring my bust, my waist and all that shit.

“You’re really one of them good products we got this week.” She said with a triumphant grin. “And you’ve been handpicked by the boss, nonetheless.”

I sighed. “And that’s important?”

“It’s not important.” She said. “No. But given that this club only has three or four dancer handpicked by the boss, cock picked rather.” The girl giggled.

I feigned a smile. “Glad to know I am one of the A-list.”

The girl shook her head. “I have just the costume for you.”

“Yeah…” I sigh. “Of course you, do.”

And so, here I was. Dressed in leather straps with a bra for a top and a weird ass underware for skirt and a number of leather straps stripped around me.

“Right.” The girl with the pink hair said. “You look like an item, men would want a bite of.”

I gagged mentally.

“Have you ever done this before?” She asked.

“No.” I replied in monotone. “And frankly, I don’t want to either.”

“It’s fun, once you get the hang of it.” She said like I was offending and judging her. “Come on. We’ll do some training before the night shines.”

Just like her words, we did some training in the empty stage, with Julian as the only audience and when it was finally over, I was tired and sweaty.

The girl whose name I was yet to know, she grinned at me. “Wasn’t that fun?”

Easy for you to say. I say mentally. You can dance like a fucking fireball where I am just an okay one.

I doubt, Roman was going to get an benefit from me anyway.

“You’ll have so much fun once you get the hang of it.” The pink haired girl said. “I am bubbles, by the way. But that’s of course just a stage name. My name is Ariel, but do call me bubbles here.”

“Blaire.” I said as the end of our introductory phase.

“Pleased to meet you.” She grinned.

We walked back to the green room like thingy and wiped off the sweat of my body using a frozen rag, since I didn’t have a change of costume.

After Bubbles or Ariel was done with her pink costume a she did her make up while I sat panting on the battered couch fanning myself from the heat.

“Come, I’ll do yours before this room gets filled up with the others, they aren’t exactly the good friendly sort, especially them your elite ones.”

I obliged and let her so a black silver makeup on me with fire red lipstick sitting on my lips and my jaw and nose contoured to perfection.

“Damn, you’re good.” I examined myself as Bubbles worded on my hair putting spray and fluffing it up making me look like not my usual self.

That was the point. Was it not?

Absolutely.

“The dances start from nine.” Bubbles said looking back every once in a while as we walked through the narrow, lit hallway to the main centre of the club. “It gets heavy from twelve. There is a nine to three shift and the post lunch shift which is much more calmer and respectable if you ask me.”

“This isn’t?” I pique.

“Not really.” She shrugs. “Men don’t know when to stop honestly. But this earns much more, so.”

I nod understanding her points of view.

“Why do you do it?” I ask just merely out of curiosity. “If you don’t like it.”

She laughs. “I do like it. I love dancing, and also I need money.”

I nodded. “What about school?”

“No school.” She smiles. “I teach ballet lessons on the school auditorium in the mornings and dance away in the evenings.”

“Tough.” I sighed and we finally reached where we wanted to. Stage four.

“This is a big club.” I say.

“Yep.” She grins naughtily. “And it’s famous as the home of the most exotic dancers in Napoli. You can’t find a better place to show that gorgeous tushie of yours.” She says giving me a playful slap on my arse and jumps on the curtain closed stage.

“Your big first.” She grins gleefully. “Ready?”

“I think so.” I say nervous and nauseous. “I don’t really think I can do it.”

Bubbles shakes her head. “Remember what we practiced? You’re pretty good at this.”

“Thanks.” I said unsure.

The curtains lifted and the melody poured through the speakers set up on the wall.

“Let the music take you.” Bubbles had said.

So I try to let the music take me and recall the steps she taught me.

“More expression.” Bubbles whispered over the music. “Big wide smile!”

I try to put up a big white smile.

But it fails.

Sitting on the front row chair was Roman DiMariano. His body leaned back in a relaxed posture, right ankle resting on his felt knee.

Muscular built body clad in black silk shirt, top buttons undone.

I almost stopped midway of my steps but Ariel covering the stage nudged me to keep going, so I did and followed her down the stage as she attended the first row first, Roman’s hand going automatically around her petite waist as she straddled him and gave him a dance and another pair of of Hans found my waist.

This lad was not half bad looking.

The man pulled me to his lap as kept my hands on his shoulder and slowly moved.

“DiMariano finally hiring a putta who knows her job, eh?” The man said in a tone of mockery.

I ignore the guy, gripping my backside and finish my dance.

“Do you do private rooms?” The man asked.

“No.” I replied getting up from his lap and feel another pair of hands on me.

It takes a while to do a full round before Bubbles and I end up in the stage again. Roman’s eyes never leaving the stage ones.

A part of me felt conscious and a part of me felt hurt that he grabbed Bubbles and didn’t spare a look at me.

But it probably made sense because Bubbles is working here long before me.

And why would Roman spare a glance at me, anyway?

I am such a stupid bitch.

The dance ended as the other two dancers joined behind us and bubbles and I exited the stage.

“Wasn’t that fun, Blaire?” Bubbles asked once inside the packed green room.

Somewhat. Yeah.

I liked the attention.

“Yup.” I reply.

Bubbles grinned. “You’ll have more fun once you’re fully accustomed. It’s fun, Blaire. Enjoy it.”

“Easy for you to say.” I mumble gathering my discarded cloths and use the bathroom to change into.

“Hey.” Bubbles grabs my arm before I exit the bathroom that had shower cubicles on one side and wash basins on other.

“Hi.” I replied, matching her enthusiasm.

“Did I say something out of the line?” She asks.

“No.” I reply. “It’s okay, Bubbles. I am really tired. See you tomorrow?”

“Sure.” She said but I could see disappointment in her baby brown eyes, like she wanted to say something more.

Well I am not here to make friends anyway.

I am here because I have to be. Not because I want to be.

This is a have to situation. Not a want to situation.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE

My exams just got cancelled last day and idk what to think or feel, my mom and dad hates me cause it got cancelled and I appeared happy. Lol.

Questions:

Village life or city life?

-November

10

The same car awaited outside the club, me and Bubbles walked out through the employee door.

Well I walked out, following a suited man. She was just following behind me.

I have no idea why I feel this way.

I mean, jealousy ain’t me.

But…I dunno.

He’d grupple her ass, not mine.

What’s wrong with my ass?

He’d look at every other dancer in the room but not a me.

What’s wrong with my face?

I look girly enough.

Well, maybe not as well defined as them other strippers or whatever.

I don’t have dd breasts or a busty butt, botoxed cheeks and lips.

But Bubbles, even with her weirdly pouffy pink hair looked much better then me.

There was no doubt she was better looking then me.

She turned heads on the stage. Including Roman’s.

The suited man left me near the car without a word and helped Bubbles find her ride.

I take they take care of their strippers slash dancers slash titty shakers in the cages.

Taking a refreshing breath, I grab the handle if the door and pull it open, slipping inside.

It smelled highly of tobacco and marijuana.

I crinkled my nose and lead back against the black leather covered seat to work out the kink on my back.

The door of the other side opened and Roman’s form slipped inside the car, sitting beside me heaving a ribbon of smoke and polluting the somewhat oxygen left in the car.

Must he be such a cock?

A tiny limp one, might I add.

The driver slid on the driver’s side next and Roman gave the blurry man a go ahead with a jerk of his wrist as he smoked what was remains of his cigarette or whatever.

Why is he coming with me anyway?

Doesn’t he have work to do?

Or a car of his own?

So poor.

A mob boss without a branded car.

A snort laugh left my mouth but I composed myself just fine.

“Something finny, cucciolo?” He rasped. “Why are you laughing like you have no tongue?”

Who even says that?

That’s so…abnormal.

“Are you mad?” He asked twisting his God like built body to face me. Cigarette still in hand, a ribbon of smoke dancing on air.

“Why’d I be mad?” I shake my head in annoyance. “Don’t talk to me.”

“You’re mad.” He stated as if it was a fact.

And pray tell why would I be mad at his Royal fucking Highness with a tiny dick?

“Because I grabbed Bubbles’s ass before yours.”

“Excuse me?” I hiss.

He hit the last nerve functioning on my head tonight.

I am going to hit him, if he don’t stop, I swear. I’ll kill his bastard and be over with, what an asshole;

“Putta’s like you, Blaire, want and crave attention of the male population.” Roman smirked and looked forward. “They feel jealous of other puttas getting the desired attention and then your face says it all.”

“You’re such a blundered person.” I hiss. “So fucking full of your pathetic goddamn self…”

“Perhaps, you will feel much better if I fucked that cunt of yours raw?” He chuckles. “Isn’t that what you want, Blaire?”

What is wrong with this man?

Does he have hypersexuality disorder or something mental case like that?

“That’s downright disgusting and disrespectful, Roman.” I hissed and crossed my arms over my chest feeling insecure that my thinking’s were laid out in front of him without a filter. “I can’t help but think you’re a loony case. And you need help.”

“Don Roman.” He corrected, basically ignoring whatever I said. “Or signore DiMariano. Besides, you weren’t thinking like that when you were fingering that swollen cunt of yours getting yourself off the previous night, crying my name. Were you, Blaire?”

I felt heat of the Sahara rise up on my cheeks and the tip of my ears.

How does he know that?

Bastard piglet has been spying on me?

What a fucking cunt!

“Shameful now, are we?” He teased. “There is something about you little virgins. Portray you are shy and all that and then cry out like fucking whores you are.”

“Why are you like this?” I ask in whispered tone. “Not everything about everyone is about sex.”

“Wrong.” He said puffing another drag of the cigarette and flicking the butt outside through the open window. “Everything about my puttas is sex. You’re my whore, Blaire. You dance for me, you flash your tits for me. You fuck whomever I want, for me.” He said drawing each word clearly.

I don’t know what his words were supposed to make me feel. But, it did however made me feel small and petty.

Like I was nothing but dirt on his hands which he could dust away any time he wants.

I haven’t cried in the days I have been into this wretched place. I threw insults, yelled, screamed, cussed but now I felt small.

I was sure I’d look small if I looked at myself on a mirror.

What an asshole.

I wiped away a lone tear that escaped my eyes but kept my head held high.

I won’t get on my knees because of this heartless, non compassionate bastard.

After a long silent rife through the eerily silent and dark street later we halted in front of the mansion.

It was glorious.

The car cruised inside through the middle of the property with lush gardens on each side of the driveway lit by long long light posts on either sides.

I got out and slammed the door shut, angry and walked toward the front door, keeping my arms wrapped around my body, feeling the cold more then it was.

I heard Roman bark orders to people as he walked behind me, two suited man trailing behind him in silence.

I walked through the middle stairs coming in face to face with two ladies hurdled in a corner, dressed in black long coats, giggling.

They were here for Roman.

Disgusting.

He was a pig anyway.

He was fucking pig, that didn’t deserve my time or attention or anything. Not even lust, looking like a fresh meat that he is.

Shouldn’t have poking my nose where it wasn’t my business.

And now I am stuck under the roof of a man who is a downright pig and an asshole.

A man who made money using the most illegal route of business there is and lived in luxury with the same earned money. He was a corrupt, manipulative bastard who had no compassion for any person whatsoever.

The man who for some reason finds sadistic satisfaction in humiliating me, to myself.

“I hate him” I mumble getting into my room and slamming the door shut.

There was a pile of stripper clothes on my bed and two pair of heels.

I hurled the shoes toward the full length mirror breaking it into pieces, seething.

“Fuck you, Roman.” I hissed. “Fuck you to hell!”

11

I sat on the ‘U’ shaped couch in the VIP balcony of Minx. Legs spread. A fiery redhead, working her luscious wet mouth on my pulsing cock.

I let her do whatever she wants, draping my arms on the backrest of the couch, that I was occupying alone.

Grunting at the familiar tightening of my balls, I placed one hand, cupping the whore’s head, making her take my cock in her mouth so she doesn’t spare a drop of my arousal on the floor, as she used that pierced tongue to circle my swollen crown, bringing me close to my release.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I caught the mop of black hair ascend through the spiral stairs rolled in red carpets leading to the VIP balcony.

My face broke out in a triumphant smirk as I saw my right hand, Angelo walk to me with powerful strides.

“Boss.” He reported. “Three weeks.”

“Three weeks.” I agreed. “How do you feel, brother?”

“Rather good.” He said taking a seat on the couch across from me and using his hand to motion for a putta to get to work. “It’s better than being shot and in pain.”

“I am glad you feel better.” I groaned throwing my head back as felt my cock jerk in the bitch’s mouth and her gag.

“I do feel better.” He said again. “Let’s say, it was a much anticipated break that I needed, Roman.”

I cupped the kneeling putta’s chin making her look up at me with glazed eyes, high from the cocaine. “Good girl.” I praised. “Get back inside your cage.”

“I am ready to come back to work, Roman.” Angelo said with the whore working between his legs. “God knows, I need something to do or I’ll fucking hang myself from the fucking ceiling just to see how death feels like.”

I chuckled. “You’ll come back to work, Angelo.”

“Where do you want me, boss?” Angelo smirked.

“Two weeks prior, there was a contravention on our servers.” I begin. “And as much as our delinquent says she has nothing on her, but I am afraid, the awaiting bastards has finally picked up our scent from the net. Eli fixed us up again but a shipment went missing two days before.”

“The shipment from Russia.” Angelo mumble. “Diamonds.”

“Precisely.” I said. “The tech crew tracked our goods and it has been delivered to me that it’s with in fact the Italians.”

“Why would the other families mess with us?” Angelo asked his hand going around the bitches head, kneeling between his legs. “That’s not funny, besmirching with us when they know that a tiny fuck up and we’ll fucking blow the treaty and throw them in graves, unmarked.”

“Angelo.” I said sitting back. “We at present hold the country in a fist. Money, it’s coming from all ways. Connections, bent up police, Government…we have it all. They want to fuck us up, one wrong foot and we’ll be fucked and not a second before the rest four families join and create a fort. And so I want you to deliver a massage to Levi Salvatore.”

“That punk wouldn’t even venture…”

“The punk ventured already, Angelo.” I say holding up a dismissive palm. “I heard he has a women he so dearly claims to love.”

Angelo duly nodded. “I think I’ll have a drink first and then talk to Eli about this women Levi Salvatore is in love with.”

“She’s here.” I added the information. “Talk to Eli and get the putta, I don’t have time.”

“Don Roman.” I heard the head of personal security, Ricardo walks in and bows from neck down in a curt nod. “You have a tripper.”

Angelo chuckled accepting a glass of whisky from the putta whose mouth he was fucking just moments before.

“Do I know this tripper?” I ask picking up my glass of whiskey from the small circle table and downing the drink, leaving the crystal cubes of ice.

“Can’t say I have seen him around the club, Boss.” Ricardo said.

“Then get the fuck out of this deck and tell that bastard to choke on his balls!” I yelled. “How fucking dare you come here to inform me something that has no fucking head or tail or what the fuck ever!”

“Pardonami, boss.” Ricardo says turning around to leave

“Fucking bastards.” I say leaning my head back and massaging my temples. “They consider me some kind of fucking commoner. Sir you have a tripper. What am I? A fucking office worker?”

“Calm down, Roman.” Angelo smirked placing the rim of his glass to his lips. “He’s new, he’ll get over it.”

I ignore Angelo’s comical tone and leave the couch walk-in toward the rail that gives a view of all four stages on the ground. Cages hanging from ceiling. Girls dancing, girls stripping. Girls serving drinks. Girls serving luxury diversion drugs.

“Business looks good, Boss.” Angelo said standing beside me. “Stage four is open. There is a new…women?”

I laughed at Angelo’s humorless joke.

“Looks sore subject to work here, that putta does.” Angelo says.

“That putta slashed our servers, Angelo.” I sigh. “Bitch is too sore to be my fucking house cleaner.”

“She’s not half bad looking. Just stiff for a dancer.” Angelo retorts. “And lost, sad perhaps. Ariel is dancing. She’s not doing privates is she?” He asked.

“No. I replied. “She’s out of bounds.”

“I’d rather it stays that way.” He says hands enclosing the circular rail of the deck. “I’ll fucking kill her before I kill the bastard she’d be pleasuring.”

I stayed silent.

My eyes on Blaire who had the undivided attention of the men sitting and standing in front of the stage.

It was more then seven days she begin working here and seemed like she and Bubbles, the sweet pink haired girl has developed some sort of friendship.

But Blaire was still stiff as a dancer.

I mean I hadn’t assigned her to a private room yet neither the left part of the club.

She wouldn’t even survive a second in the left part of the club where men pay for the company of beautiful women for an hour.

“Realise what, Roman.” Angelo said, I took my eyes of Blaire who was clad in a blush pink outfit finished of with fur ruffles today and faced the man standing beside me.

“I fucking missed this place and you being a volatile bastard.”

“I am glad you’re back, Angelo.” I replied, solemnly.

It’s not everyday I appreciate the man my brother, my right hand was. But three weeks after two bullet shots in the back to save my life seemed like a reason enough to express my gratitude to the bastard.

I hugged Angelo, fisting the back of his suit jacket and kissing the side of his head.

“It’s good to be back.” Angelo smirked, once freed myself from the unscripted embrace “Now, I am going to have a chat with Eli, about our lovely messenger of the dark.”

After Angelo excused himself for his undertaking, I descended the stairs leading me to the main area, accepting a glass of whiskey from the bar waitress and made my way toward stage four.

“Blaire.” I addressed as she got down from the stage after her performance with Bubbles on the way to the green room.

She halted upon hearing the sound of my voice, a scowl resting in her place face. “What do you want?” She hissed.

I glared at her. “A word. In my office, Blaire.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, you selfish fucking bastard. Fuck you.” She yelled. I grabbed her slender wrist.

That’s it. She fucking insults in front of people who fucking look down when I walk into a room!

“Fucking leave my hand, you cunning manipulative bastard! I fucking hate you.” She cried

“Enough!” I roared grabbing her throat, firm enough to knock a breath out of her.

“Come with me.” I hissed releasing her her willowy throat and she choked a sob in her, as I grabbed her wrist and pulled her aside, through the stairs, leaving a scared and confused Bubbles behind her.

“Let me go!” She whimpered. “I hate you, Roman. Let me go.”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Idk, just saying that if we can make this chapter a 45+ comment we’ll have another update. (Just saying, and please don’t make those one letter ones, it’s downright disturbing, sorry. If you wanna leave one comment that’s fine just don’t put two words in twenty letters. It’s annoying.)

Questions:

Apple pie or pumpkin pie?

-Apple. It’s better.

-November

12

Mr I am the boss here, pushes me inside a well furbished office room and locks the door using the same card he used to open it.

“What the fuck do you want, asshole?” I ask covering my bra clad chest using my arms and tapping my feet on the grey twist pipe carpet thrown under the massive mahagony desk, the floor to ceiling window behind the desk, giving out the view of the sea port further away from the city.

“You will talk to me with respect  Blaire.” He pointed a gold ringed index finger at me in a threatening way.

“In presence and absence of company. I am your boss, your superior not your bitch, not your play thing. You fucking work for me.” He threatened taking powerful steps closer to my slender form. “I own you, you fucking breathe, you ask for permission, you fucking walk, you ask for permission, I tell you to fucking get on your knees and kiss my goddamn boot, you women get on your knees and fucking kiss my feet!” He yelled, his dark orbs dilating as he slammed both his palms on the plain wall I was backed up against.

I was scared of this man.

It was official.

“Are we clear, Blaire?” He asked in a hushed tone, his warm breath fanned my cheek.

I stayed silent. His close proximity was scary and carnal at the same time.

I mean nobody can control arousal can they? Especially when I, myself have been lusting over him since I saw him in flesh and blood.

It’s too scary to interact with Roman.

To sexual to be near him.

To painful for him to be so close, because god knows I am drenched like a fucking whore wanting for him to put those hands, resting on the wall, on my body. On my throat. On my fucking ass.

“I do not like to repeat, myself.” He said lowly.

“Answer me, Goddmanit!” He yelled, slamming his palms on the wall again, making me jump for the second time.

“Yes, Roman.” I reply biting the corner of my lip, pacifying my Shaker up voice.

“Don Roman.” He hissed. “I am not your fucking friend.”

“Yes, Don Roman.” I repeated like a parrot.

He pushed himself away from me and opened his eyes, it felt as if his whole body was shaking from anger.

After my first night here, I moved hills and mountains to avoid this asshole at all cost for the week.

Successful as I was, I spent my  nonworking time, on the guest room suite, reading stupid romance and erotica Bubbles lend me or chatting with Donna Coralyn. She was sweet.

Sometimes bratty as fuck but sweet nonetheless. Her brattiness left me speachless half the time.

But as I said, she was partially sweet and caring and a feeder.

Basically staying away from him was my priority.

And when I came to work, using the same car and same driver, I would try to avoid everything that would lead me to him.

But some of the nights he’d be here, watching from the VIP balcony and he’d still be here after my and Bubble’s shift ended. He’d be here even before my shift started.

When he was here that is. Most of the time he wasn’t.

“Take a seat.” Roman rasped walking away from me and over to his desk and taking a seat in the leather chair.

His posture changed like a blow of the wind. He looked more dynamic, strong, defined. Down right scary.

Like a motherfucking King.

There was a sofa arrangement inside the office in one corner with the opposite wall plastered in a built in shelf.

Doubt he reads though.

I took a seat on the chairs opposite to the man sitting behind the desk.

Roman poured some amber liquid in a whiskey glass and placed the glass in front of me. “Have a drink, Blaire.”

“I don’t…” I sighed. “Drink alcohol.”

I placed my hands on my lap. I didn’t even get to change my bitch outfit. I was still on a bra and flimsy skirt and knee high heeled boots. My hair in curls and glittery.

And the air conditioning wasn’t even helping a bit in this miserable room.

Roman used the remote control to out up the temperate and clasped his hands in the desk top. “How are you liking doing your job, Blaire?” He asked.

“I loathe it.” I reply truthfully. “It repulses me.”

“And why is that?” He asks as if he’s having trouble understanding.

I mean all the girls are here to their own wishes. Some ones love to be in the cages.

It gives them confidence they say.

I don’t feel that way.

“I don’t like men gaping at this!” I gesture my body. “I am not like them, I am not gorgeous or curvy, Roman. I hate how they stare at me like I am an alien or something like that. I dislike how they touch me, they clearly differentiate me from them. I don’t like it, Roman.”

I was complaining.

He chuckled. “You didn’t say you hate it.”

No I don’t.

I don’t hate it.

I like it. It makes me feel different.

Confident.

Sexy.

Wanted.

Don’t get me wrong but a wad of bunched up paper hitting me on web design class doesn’t make me feel wanted. I am sorry.

Sally’s fish and chips doesn’t make me feel sexy.

Roman left his chair, buttoning the single button of his navy blue suit jacket as he circled me and stood behind me.

His calloused, big hands rested in my shoulder.

I cleared my throat lookin at the left wall where there was an array of whatever books in the built in shelf.

His hand massaged my shoulders gently.

Okay. Okay daddy, where are we going with this?t

I rolled my shoulders gently and his rough palms skid down my shoulders to my clavicles in the most painfully slow motion. His fingertips touching the swell of my breast, all courtesy of the push up bra. Flimsy as it was.

“Do you like this, Blaire?” Roman asked in an undertone.

I leaned my head back against the backrest of the chair. His hands caressed my swells before moving downward to the lacy fur ruffles and down my flat stomach.

“Do you like me touching you, Blaire?” He whispered again. His face was close to my cheek. I felt warm breath on my shivering shoulder and something stirring inside me.

A weird sensation of warmth or cold blooming inside my guts that made me quiver from inside within.

“I can almost taste you arousal.” Roman whispered against my cheek. “Are you drenched from me barely touching you, Blaire?”

“Is this why I am here?” I asked. “So you can personally assault me?”

“Assault you?” He chuckled. “You’re dripping like a broken fucking tap. Get up and I bet you, you’ll see the wet mess you’ve made on my leathers “

I went quiet. His hands were still on my stomach. Playing with my skin.

“Am I wrong, Blaire?” He chuckles his hand playing with the snap of my flimsy skirt. “Shall we see, if your swollen cunt is fucking drenched or not?”

I release a shaky breath as he undoes the snap of my tiny little skirt.

His actions cut short when the door almost shakes from the force applied from the other side.

“What the fuck?” Roman cusses as he leaves me be and walks over to the door and unlocks it using a card.

“Sir.” Some body said but a man hurled inside pushing the blurry man aside, fuming.

He’s tall. Not as Roman but relatively tall, built but a boyish glint still lingering on his features.

I fix my skirt, hiding whatever shame I have in me.

“Dare you fucking bastard, get inside my office pushing past me.” Roman seethes grabbing the new arrived man by his shirt collar and pinning him on the opposite wall with enough force to make him hurt. “I am not your father’s fucking bitch. You pay respect, you fucking ask if I’ll see you before you barge into my room and act like you fucking own the place!” He shoves the man against the wall again.

“Quit it, DiMariano.” The new arrived man hissed. “Where is my woman?”

Roman chuckles. “Woman? You mean your whore? That blonde? Damn good breasts?”

“How dare you!” The chap snarled still pinned against roman. “How fucking dare you touch her, you asshole.”

“Seriously, Levi.” Roman says his name in a mocking tone. “Do you think my hands are worthless enough to touch something that has been used by you?”

What is wrong with this man, honestly?

Why does he get on everyone’s fucking nerve?

“Oh!” Levi chuckles. “You say that, yet your low life pathetic men picked her up didn’t they?”

“And why would they do that?” He smirks. “Levi. Why would men do that?”

I see color drain from this Levi dude’s face.

Well, I for one knows nobody fucks with Roman. Not even for fun. And fucking gets away with it.

Example? Sitting right here. I roll my eyes.

Roman releases one of his fist from the man’s shirt and uses the other to roughly throw him on the hard floor.

“Fuck.” Levi cusses getting up on his hunches. Roman has the gun pulled on his forehead.

“Confess.” He orders. “Now.”

“My woman, first.” Levi spat on the floor.

“Where are my fucking cartridges and diamonds. Where are they?”

“No idea, what you’re talking about DiMariano?” Levi hisses but backs up as Roman presses the load thingy on his gun.

Scary. Period.

Why doesn’t he bark out for me to leave yet?

“Do you want your bitch or not?” Roman hisses.

“Fine!” Levi yells. “Fine. Your cartridges and diamonds are on the way to America by a ship.”

“How far?” Roman asks.

“It left the dock around four.” Levi says. “Under my command.”

“Who squealed?” Roman asks.

Levi shrugs as if knowing the answer but not giving away.

“Who squealed?” Roman asks pushing the man against the wall and putting the nozzle of his gun under his chin.

“Ronald.” Levi muttered. “Ronald.”

The bang went off.

Whatever was inside Levi’s skull splattered on the wall behind him and on the floor.

I vomited. Clutching my throat I let out whatever was in my stomach.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Roman yelled kicking the empty chair beside me, making it skid and hit the wall.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Are you liking Ariel And Angelo’s book so far? I am sorry for the late update though. Lol.

13

I sat in the passenger seat of a black sports car, shivering.

Call me pussy or a loony I just saw a man’s brain on the floor and threw up.

I’ve seen better days on my life. I swear I’ve seen better days in my life.

After I was done with my episode of throwing up on the expensive ass carpet, I cried at the disgusting sight of blood and wobbly wiggly shit in the floor and then screamed in fear.

Roman left the man, or what was left of him in the office floor and dragged me outside and into the car where he firmly warned not to scream like a whore. I didn’t.

The man or any man or women was yet to make an appearance as I hugged my arms from the coldness of me.

After hearing the gunshot, the silence seemed more silent and I was more terrified then ever of the monster that resides under that Armani suit.

The driver’s side opened and Roman slid in, wearing a different shirt then he was before.

I looked away from his sharp and controlled features and counted the damn trees.

The car purred to life in a smooth glide and vroomed toward the main highway that took us put of the club’s premises.

In this week going back and forth to the villa I somewhat knew the roadway. But Roman took an unexpected turn.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked the panic palpable in my voice, shaking slightly.

If it was up to me, I’d fucking sprint away from this cocker and never look back in a ten thousand years and the next lifetime.

The drugs and the strippers and the random fucks that he portrayed while he was at the club gave away that ‘fucking mess with me, I dare you’ vibes.

Tonight his actions screamed, ‘mess with me and I’ll kill you’ warnings. Not vibes.

It was a clear and transparent warning between the closed doors.

“Fucking where are you taking me, Roman!” I yelled, pathetic, fat tears trying to escape my eyes, as I fingered the door handle, trying to get the bastard open. “Fucking, let me out!”

“Quiet.” He ordered, imperturbable of my ludicrous actions to get the car door open.

I do not want to be within a twenty mile radius of their bastard.

“I just want to go to sleep!” I cried. “Please!” My cries or lunatic attempt didn’t hound him a bit.

He kept cruising toward wherever with his messed up mind, in the process of me scratching his cherry colored leather interior with my nails in order to feed my frustration.

I slumped back on my seat, as a sob raked out of my chest.

There was no way out of this monster’s clutch. The car finally stopped after forever in front of a villa like structure.

If it was well lit, there was no doubt it’d be one of the majestic architecture to look at.

But it was nealy two am. Maybe more. The lights were out except the ones on the driveway leading us the the entrance door of the villa.

Roman put the car on park as a dressed man and women made their way toward the car.

Getting out himself, Roman opened my door for me and warned me silently with his eyes. I got out, wobbly on my feet, my head spinning, walls closing in feeling like I could throw up from the images flashing on my mind once again.

Roman, placed a warm calloused hand on the small of my back, leading me toward the entrance with the couple following behind us. “We prepared your chambers, upon the news of your arrival, Singnore DiMariano.” The male voice said from behind.

“We didn’t know you had company.” Roman stayed silent and lead me through the dimly lit entrance and hallways toward an lift with golden door.

“Buona notte, Signore.” The man bowed from neck down as we stepped inside the lift.

Roman barely nodded in recognition.

“Why am I here?” I asked once we were in the privacy of the lift.

“I am not entirely fond of your tone, Blaire.” Roman said punching a combination of numbers on the panel. “Neither am I answerable to your juvenile questions.”

“Asking for the reason of myself being in a creepy mansion is not juvenile.” I said. “You’re a fucking monster.”

Roman barely paid heed to me as we rode upward inside the brightly lit lift, showing floors on the glass panel.

Moments later the lift dinged and the doors opened.

Roman grabbed my forearm in a metallic grip as he pulled me right behind him and halted in front of double doors, pressing yet another combination on the panel.

Seconds later when he was done with his finger print and retinal scan the door clicked open on its own and spread on either sides to make a wide walk way for us to enter.

If I was on my right state of mind, I’d make some witty remark. I am not. The scene of blood and wiggly stiff still in my mind.

“Get in.” He ordered. “There is a bedroom room to the left with a bathroom. Go shower or bath.”

What about him? I wanted to ask.

But given that I neither want to look at his face or talk to him, I didn’t ask.

I stepped inside the black whit swirly marble floor and admired the pristine décor of the suite. The faint sound of door closing made me turn on my heels.

“Roman!” I yelled.

“Fucking bastard!” I walked hurriedly toward the door trying for a handle of a opening thing.

Nothing. Fucking son of a cunt left me alone in a hand, feet, code protected suite.

What an asshole. Fuming, I made my way inside the well decorated suite and found the bedroom, same black white swirly marble floor, huge glass walls on three sides of the room with a master best sitting on the middle proudly.

That was all about the furniture this room had.

The master sized bed, two bedside table, the light arrangement on the glass walls.

Weird.

Where is the bathroom?

Entering through the door you’d be facing the back rest of the bed and three massive panels of glass showing the scenery outside.

Fancy. But weird.

Walking inside I sat on the corner of the bed, taking of my heeled shoes and throwing them on the marble floor.

Next I undid my flimsy outfit and discarded them in the floor along with my shoes.

Sighing, I collapsed on the bed, facing the ceiling.

It wasn’t white. I was so used to seeing white ceilings that the weird ceiling, somewhat transparent made me uncomfortable. This room was uncomfortable.

Period.

Somebody maybe spying on me from somewhere and the pervy bastard will see me bits bared, laying down like a loony.

I shifted on the satiny sheets, and snatched the same textured coverlet and pulled them to my tits, laying back down with the silk between my legs, tickling my bare pussy.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE

I know I’ve been less focused on this storey and more on that. Apologizes. We have a second update coming up.

Question s:

Audio book or paper back?

-November

14

A low moan erupted my chest, vibrations spreading throughout my body.

“Umm.” I cried out from the painful yet pleasurable ministrations, going between my legs.

The try to clench my this together to stop that sweet sweet assault on my pussy was no avail.

My hands clutched the mob of dark brown hair as I cried out, over again from the warm tongue flicking my nerve bundle, grazing it with his teeth.

“Oh, Roman.” I moaned throwing my head back in ecstasy feeling my stomach tightening, in a familiar sensation as my back arched to find some precious friction between my gushing wetness and his tongue.

Roman raised his face, lips pulled into a salacious smirk as he, like a predator climbed up my slender form and hovered over me.

His previously styled hair, now falling in stands over his sweaty forehead, topped with his smirk, giving him a psychotic lover look.

I caressed his face with my knuckles, eyes glazed stared into his warm brown ones, almost loosing my sanity inside his eyes.

Without a warning, his cock slammed inside my worked up, leaking heat.

I cried out from the painful yet lovely ache that spread throughout my body. “My whore. My fucking whore. Only mine.” He whispered moving on top of me.

“Yes.” I cried out. “Your’s Roman.”

He chuckled darkly. “Tell me I fucking own this cunt. It’s mine.” He ordered pulling out so just his swollen tip was snuggled inside my slippery heat. “Tell me.” He slammed in.

“Yes.” I grunted out. “You own this fucking cunt. It’s yours.”

“Yes.” He grunted.

“I-”

Slam.

“fucking”

Slam.

“own.”

Slam.

“this.”

Slam.

“cunt”

“Yes.” I panted out. “All yours.”

“That’s right.” He growled picking up his pace. “Fucking mine, whore. You’re my whore.”

In. Out, in rhythms. In beats he pummeled my pussy like I weighed and cost nothing.

“Tell me how bad you want me to fuck you raw, Blaire?” He rasped. “Say it.”

“Bad.” I breathed out. “Fuck me till I break, Roman.”

I cried out as he hit my sweet spot, making me lurch forward on the bed, but he grabbed the under side of my thighs, pulling me go him  closing any gap that left between us.

“Fuck.” I cried. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

My head slumped back, on the silken pillow, eyes closed from pure ecstasy.

I wake with a flinch, the wetness between my legs undoubtedly the product of my X-rated dream.

“Get over yourself.” I muttered, addressing myself, working on the knots of my hair dragging fingers through the gelled strands of the night before. “He’d never fuck you. He’s just a prick with an ego bigger then the Pacific.”

After my pep talk, I wrapped the olive colored silk coverlet around my naked form and walked outside from the glass room.

By the amount of sunlight pouring through all probable corner of the room, I could tell it was noon, or something past noon.

I was still in the daze of my blue dream. It was weird.

I just saw that man kill another poor soul in my presence. I should be bone dry if nothing else.

Instead I wake up with an image of him between my legs and a mental ache of his brutal cock ruining whatever was left of my poor innocence.

I doubt I have any left  after those dreams that wake me in the middle of the night and all those wanking I give myself calling out his name at a regular interval.

Sighing, I stepped into the hallway and coursed toward the living room, hoping for something to sooth my dry throat and a bathroom for a damn well awaited shower.

I heard low growls as soon as stepped inside the living room, facing the back of a black half circular couch. Roman’s dark mop, against the backrest, his arms draped on the surface.

“Use that tongue.” He moaned. “That’s a good little slut.”

I shuddered a little.

Shameless.

He groaned again, a throaty sound that made my insides turn and legs clench in need and want.

This is not good. This is fucking toxic.

“Keep that mouth open for me when I am fucking it, whore.” Roman hissed. “That’s good, take it like the slut you are.”

I cleared my throat unable to stand his voice throwing obscene sentences any longer.

This went from I’d like a glass of water to I’d like that cock down my  throat, please. Thank you.

“Oh, Blaire.” Roman turned his head at the sound of my pronounced arrival. “You seem very well rested.”

“I am.” I replied. “It seems you’re pretty damn well rested yourself, too.”

“I defer.” Roman said with a groan and stilled for a second. I saw a fiery red head get up from the floor, wiping her lips rather seductively looking down at the equally seductive man. “Unlike you, I have business to attend and a family to rule. I don’t waste my time around putting my nose in other people’s business.”

I didn’t answer, instead pulled the coverlet around me tighter as Roman rose to his full height, naked.

Shameless.

“What do you need?” He asked.

You. I wanted to say.

“I’d like to shower.” I say.

I saw him in his bare glory once he walked to the other side of the couch facing me.

It wasn’t tiny.

Fucking monster.

I looked up to see zero humor and expression in his eyes. “I thought you wanted to shower not offer yourself on a plate for me to fuck you awake from your sleep, Blaire?”

“I am not…” I sigh. “Look, just show me the way to the shower.”

Roman walked back to the bedroom, I occupied the previous night and pressed an almost invisible panel on the only wall and a door automatically pushed open revealing an equally lush bathroom inside, topped with black marble fittings and finishing.

Roman entered the bath before me and got busy doing whatever on the washing sink.

The shower was huge enough to fit five people, enclosed in glass walls. Standing in front of the glass door, I slipped off the cover, covering my body and stepped inside only for the water go spray auto over my head as it warmed up in an instant.

Ze luxury. I thought as I washed my hair using the shampoo on the corner cabinet.

After the shower, I smelt highly like Roman. It wasn’t a bad smell. Erotic and expensive rather. I wrapped myself in a towel exiting the open bathroom door.

Roman sat on the edge of the bed, looking at his phone, a dark towel around his hips.

Well, drop them towels. Nothing that I haven’t seen before!

“My mother wants you to join her for lunch.” He said not looking up. “You have five minutes to make yourself look decent and join her.”

“I don’t have my clothing-” I started.

Roman pointed at a white bag on resting by his feet. “Do hurry up.” He barked. “My mother is an impatient women. Rosie will help you down to find the restaurant.”

“Who’s Rosie?” I ask.

“She’s waiting at the doorway.” Ran said tossing his phone on the bed and walking toward the bathroom.

Rolling my eyes at the man’s antics, I upturned the contents of the bag on the bed.

Push ups. Really?

My boobs aren’t that small.

I clasped the bra and pulled up the lace bordered panties before slipping the turquoise green dress over my head and tying the knot in the front to reveal somewhat of my cleavage.

Good. Sluty.

Done like said, Rosie or whatever was standing on the doorway dressed in leather pants and a silk shirt. She was the girl who was pleasing Roman just twenty minutes ago.

Rosie helped me find the restaurant and the table were Donna Coralyn was seated, headphones on her ears listing to music.

“Afternoon.” I greeted pulling the chair back to let myself sit.

The older women grinned lovingly at me before putting away her phone on her tiny white Chanel handbag. The green stone on her engagement finger catching lights along with the diamonds surrounding the expensive stone.

“How is you, love?” She asked pushing a menu book toward me. “I haven’t seen you around the house, are you working too much?”

“Not really.” I replied scheming through dishes I can’t even pronounce. “Just been tired I guess. My body has moved so much this past week then the last ten years, I can’t even…” I shake my head.

Coralyn laughs. “Dancing is a hard job, it is. I was worried after you didn’t get home last night so I called Roman. He said he brought you here, there was some brawl at the club.”

“You have no idea.” I sigh.

I saw your son kill a man too, by the way.

“Have you decided?” She asked.

“I’ll have what you have.” I reply, unsure of the names.

“Oh?” She sounds surprised. “Okay.”

I nodded.

Donna Coralyn used a nicely manicured hand to get the attention of the waiter who politely asked what she wanted.

“We’ll have the luncheon cheese and charcuterie board, the country side lunch platter, for two and chef’s choice for desert.” She smiled. “Put the bill on Roman’s tab, If you will. A bottle of Rosé, very finely chilled and water. Thank you.”

After the waiter left, Donna Coralyn turned her attention to me. “I love your dress.”

“Thank you.” I said. “You look good.”

“Awe, you don’t have to compliment my old self so I feel better.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty.” I said truthfully. “And you honestly look good.”

She wearing a pale blue silk blouse and a white skirt. White heels to match, honey golden hair pinned back to reveal her dangling diamonds.

My hair was still air drying.

“I’ll then fifty this year.” She said with a chuckle. “I am so ready for some grandkids.”

I laughed. “You’re not that old. My mother is older then you.” And uglier.

I wish I had her as a mother.

“Oh, honey.” She sighed. “I raised three stubborn boys at this point I am lucky enough to have hair on my head.”

“I have no doubt.

Our cheese board arrived along with the chilled wine and water.

“But I have no doubt that the most difficulty I had with parenting is Roman’s.” She said biting into a cracker.

I took a piece of the bachesta and bit into it.

“The rest came pretty easy, and Roman is still difficult. I gave up trying to straighten him after he turned seventeen. And at this point the roles have reversed, my boy is…”

“Are you talking about me?” I hear to see the devil himself, dressed in a grey suit, black shot standing behind his mother, hands shoved into the pockets of his matched slacks.

“Yes.” Donna Coralyn said accepting a kiss on top of her head, and I saw her melt like an icecream from his pampering. “I am complaining.”

“Very well.” He said. “I’ll see you.”

“Bye, bub.” She said accepting yet another kiss on her cheek.

Wow.

“See?” She pouts. “The roles have reversed.”

I chuckled shaking my head.

“I am his mother!” She complained making me laugh louder.

“Don’t laugh!”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

HMM? yous likely them this chapter? Hehe

Question:

Romance or horror?

-November

15

Apparently me seeing the asshole boss kill a man wasn’t enough to earn a day off. I was still expected at ‘Minx’ to shake my arse for a bunch of pervy paul.

I met Ariel aka Bubbles at the back door, she as dressed in ballet uniform and was huffing as she made her way into the club.

After the first night, I realised that Ariel does whatever it is necessary to earn money.

And Roman preferring her rather than me isn’t her fault at any scale.

I have bonded with the girl rather well since then talking about stuff. My stuff mostly, I was a complaining and whining human being who liked attention.

Yes.

“Hey, Bubbles!” I greeted as we entered the back of the club and walked to the green  roomare to change.

“Hey.” She smiled brightly at me. “How was your day?”

“Good.” I said sitting on a chair and undoing my hair from the pony tail. “How was yours?”

“Damn sweaty and tired.” She replied.  “I don’t even want to dress up and play hooker today, I am that tired.”

I wanted to point out that she was indeed a stripper but refrained.

Ariel is a sensitive girl and she keeps it to herself mostly. I am the only person who she talks to in full sentences.

Blaire feels special today.

“Why do you look so glum?” I asked as Ariel sat her bag in the floor and proceeded to do her daily routine of removing her cloths to dress up.

“Nothing.” She said. “Just stuff.”

“Do you want to get some drinks or juice after the dance?” I asked again.

“You’re awfully cheerful.” She pointed out. “What’s up with you? You got all of the screws tight?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah yeah- I am fine.”

“I like your dress.” She says. “The top bow looks sexy shows a bit of your tits, looks good.”

“Thanks.” I said looking down at my chest. “I guess.”

“Get changed.” Ariel threw a shiny green sequin barely there top at me to land in my face.

I sighed.

The club was weirdly wild this night, but Roman wasn’t standing on the VIP floor this time.

It was another man, black hair, dark eyes, slightly less tan then Roman, almost same height but looking nothing alike each other.

But I could tell his cold, ice like gaze made Ariel nervous. She was messing up, and Ariel doesn’t mess up.

We did two tours of the floor giving them pervy Paul a taste of lap dances before moving to the stages and finishing the performance.

Ariel looked nervous getting down from the stage, she was biting the inside of her cheek constantly and examining her nails.

We were seated on the crowded green room with the girl preparing for the next performance. A last swipe of lipstick, a last dust of glitter, one last look at the mirror.

“You okay?” I asked resting my head on the palm of my hand as I sat on the corner couch balancing my elbow on the headrest.

“Fine.” She mumbled.

“You seem off.”

“I am not.” She replied but o could see she was off.

I am not the person to socialize. I don’t even know any other girl’s name apart from Ariel’s and nobody pays me any heed. I am quiet, I mind my own fucking business.

And stay out of girl’s brawl for the sake of sanity.

After half an hour of sitting in silence, Ariel immersed in her phone screen we danced another round again. The same man was on the VIP floor, he was still staring at our direction particularly and sipping from a glass.

What is with that man and Ariel?

“Hey!” I grabbed Ariel’s hand after we got down from the stage and she staggered to the room to change. “What’s with you and Mr. Dark eyes stating like an ice berg?”

“What do you mean?” Her sweet face pulled into a sour expression as she jerked her hand away from my grip.

“Oh, Bunny!” She random girl dressed in pink dancing outfit squealed grabbing her partner by the arm.

I frowned at the girlish display of friendship.

“Ignore them.” Ariel sighed and tried to walk past but Bunny and her friends was blocking her, oblivious to our presence in the crowded section.

“Did you see Capo Bestone, Angelo was back?” The pink dressed girl was saying placing a hand on her chest, her golden hair down her back making her look like a model.

“So he called me in before the shift stated and oh God Bunny, he fucked me so hard.” She giggled.

Ew. Who says that out loud.

“Come on.” Ariel pulled me past them.

“I felt like I wouldn’t be able this walk for days.” The girl said more loudly then she needs to. “I was so sore, Bunny. He rammed that monster dick and treated me like a queen after we were done…”

I rolled my eyes.

Y’all will take any monster cock in you even though he treats you like shit, till he has power and money, won’t you? I thought.

And brag about it. Cunt.

“What a bitch!” I muttered entering the green room. “Ignore.” I turned to Ariel.

Her pale face was flushed to the chubby cheeks and tears swirled in her eyes.

“Hey…” I winned. “Why you crying for?”

“I hate them.” She seethed storming inside and ripping off her top. “I fucking hate pink and her group of little corgies!” She cried.

I took a seat on the sofa and watched the women get naked and pull on a huge shirt over her head. “Sometimes I want to go and put a knife through their goddamn empty skull!”

“You’re scaring me with that bloodlust, Bubbles.” I shook my head.

“I hate her!” She sobbed, shoving her discarded contents in the bag. “She can go, ram her loose ass, STD infested pussy on his mouth for all I care!”

“Alright.” I agreed. “She can go ahead and do that, are you going to tell me what is wrong now?”

“No.” She sniffed. “I hate myself, I hate the Capo Bestone, I hate pink and her group. I hate this.” She gestured to everything facing me.

“Okay.” I said. “Maybe you need to sleep it off, Ariel. It’s fucking with your head.”

“I don’t like him back, Blaire.” She said. “I liked the club without him. He scares me.”

Shit.

“He didn’t…” I begin.

Fucking rapist!

Fucking rapist asshole the bunch of them mafia man.

Fucking bastard!

“He didn’t rape you did he?” I asked tentatively, praying it doesn’t hurt her in any emotional way. Or offends her.

The victim of such kind of assault, often feel offended or hurt by the mention of the situation and honestly, I had no idea how to handle this situation.

“No.” Ariel sniffed. “Why’d he rape me, he…”

“What was it?” I asked, my interested piqued for the juice.

“He fucked me once.” She whispered. “The first time was weeks after I got into this club. It was a one time fling thing, I am not a emotion attached kind of person.” She shrugged apologetically.

What? Ain’t nothing wrong for wanting a dick.

Can you blame a girl? Nope. You canna.

“Do, go on.” I said picking up a water bottle and getting comfortable on the couch.

Ariel sat beside me with her huge bag between us.

“And then sometime around last year, we fucked again. This time it wasn’t like one round, we went in till the sun rose…”

“Sounds like a pretty good time to me.” I retorted.

Sure sis, if that dick was good enough, you can do bunny dance till the sun raises and sets.

“It was.” She crinkles up her nose. “I suppose we were not enough careful and lost, I mean…anyways, my period didn’t come that month so I did a check…”

“You have a kid with him?” I ask. “Bubbles!”

“I let him know what was happening, he made a forced miscarriage using drugs on me.” She bit her lip. “I was barely six weeks so…it was easy…I guess…I dunno why am I telling this to you, everybody knows it. I mean…that’s why Pink was bragging…”

“Do you like him?” I ask in a whispered tone.

“I suppose.” She says. “I was intrigued by his presence since the first day I came here. But I’d never forgive him.”

“Why did he do it?” I asked in a daze from the information I just gathered.

“Well.” Ariel sighs. “One. I am a stripper. Two. He doesn’t love me or any one. Three. He doesn’t want a kid. Four. He’s just a monster.” She smiles at me.

But I can tell it’s a made up smile.

“I cannot but get scared of him, I haven’t seen anyone with so much rage and anger as I saw him that night when he forced the whisky down my throat along with some drugs.”

“That’s scary.” I whispered. “I am sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry.” She smiled. “It’s not your fault, let’s go, buy me that juice you promised.”

I get dressed back up in the turquoise dress and follow Bubbles into the bar.

Even with just a T-shirt and boy shorts on, she turned heads in the room. She was everything I was not.

Cute, pretty, full breasts, narrow waist. Nice height at five feet or something, wide hips.

Perfect and yet the monster robbed her.

What a cunt.

Remind me to pull a shot at this Capo Bestone after I kill Roman.

Nobody hurts my friend.

I mean she’s the only real friend I have.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I am updating slow and for that my heartfelt apologies  lol. I am so busy like so so so busy with everything and my health isn’t helping a bit.

Question:

Did you see the character videos, i made? Did you like them? Lemme knu.

-November

16

Two days later to Ariel’s confession we sat on the almost empty club bar, slurping on chocolate milk on the rocks.

Ariel was hitting on the bartender putting sexual remarks every now and then.

“Stop.” I whispered at her when she made the slurping noise on her empty glass with the straw. “This is creepy.”

“Sush.” She said still making the nose on the empty cup making me put my head on the reflective surface. A groan leaving my chest.

“You’re embarrassing.” I said. “Stop making me embarrassed!”

“Can I get another chocolate milk on thee rocks?” She asked the bar man. “Make it extra cold. I hate hot stuff.”

I gagged. “Stop. People don’t flirt that way, you creep.”

“You stop.” She pouted. “I am having fun Blaire. Can you not? Moodkill.” She blamed and turned her attention back to the bar man pushing out her tits.

God this girl was put of bounds. But she was more free after the confession and she made me feel good.

I mean I never had physical friends.

For a change she was wearing a dress. It was a white and yellow summer dress paired with jute sandals.

“Hey Bubbles!” Came a rude voice.

Ariel snapped her head to see who it was. It was the same blonde chick who was bragging about the dick.

“Oh, hey pink.” Bubbles said as if she was happy to see her.

I snorted. “Go away, Pink.” I said in a rude tone. “We’re done with the shift.”

“I didn’t ask for Bubble’s side bitch.” She said. “Boss has asked to see you. Now.”

“Oh.” Bubbles said getting down from her chair. “Sure.”

“I’ll come with you.” I said, finishing my drink with a go and joining her.

“Boss didn’t ask for you.” Pink pointed a finger at me. “Just her.”

“None of your goddamn business.” I said pushing past her, hitting on the shoulders purposefully as I followed bubbled through the stairs.

“You’re so mean.” Bubbles giggled once we were pass Pink. “I love it.”

“I try.” I shrug.

Ariel knocks in the wooden door once. Pauses for two seconds and knocks again.

“Come in.” Roman’s voice come muffled from the other side of the door.

Ariel pushes open the door and steps in, I follow her.

The room is occupied by Roman on the chair and Underboss Angelo on one of the visitor chair.

“Get out, Blaire.” Roman said as soon as I stepped inside the room.

“Oh, I am staying.” I say crossing my arms over my chest. “I ain’t leaving my friend alone in presence of assholic monsters.”

Roman looked up at me, a glare evident in his eyes, jaw muscle rigid and firm.

But his gaze diverted from me and landed in Ariel.

“You’re slacking performance, Ariel.” Roman said in his thick accent. “Any reason you need to share?”

“No Sir.” She replied, nervous. “I’m sorry, I’ll work hard…”

“Your promises mean to me, Ariel.” He said. “However if you slack the rest of the week, I’ll be forced to push you out.”

“You can’t do that!” I yelled. “This does good enough job to keep all those pervert men entertained while you sit here and fuck your Ransome whore…”

“Don’t interrupt me while I am talking, Blaire.” He says, not looking at me. “As I was saying, if your rates keep dropping, I’ll have you out, clear?”

“Yes, sir.” She whispered.

“Would you like to tell me the reason of your dropped rates?”

“No, sir.” She replies. “I am perfectly fine.”

“Are you?” He asks.

Jesus Christ! Why torture the girl?

“Yes, Sir.” She says.

“You may leave.” He orders. “Angelo will help you to your ride. I need to talk to Blaire.”

I rolled my eyes.

I could tell Bubbles was reluctant to leave because she lingered seconds after Angelo walked out of the door, Roman asked if she wanted something else, to which she replied in negative and left.

“What did I tell you about talking to me with fucking respect?” He asked getting up from his chair.

He had shrugged the jacket off before and now was only wearing a fine linen shirt, in pale blue.

“You said to talk to you with respect.” I replied. “But, surprising nothing you did has earned my respect toward you.” I say pressing my lips on a thin line. “Care to elaborate why, Don Roman?”

His eyes were blank on any kind of goddamn emotion as he strode toward me, pushing his body closer to mine.

I backed up against the wall. Roman placed his palms on either side of my head. My head was in level with his neck where I saw a gold cross hanging from a gold chain.

I gulped.

It’s too much sexual pressure right now.

I am so hot.

I peered up to see is eyes, they were dark and was looking straight at mine.

Are we having a moment?

Shesh. It’s scary.

“Does talking big make you feel like a big girl, Blaire?” He asked, his breath on my face. The smell of his rich cologne evading my senses.

“I don’t know.” I whispered. “Does bullying young girls make you feel like a big man, Roman?”

He smirked but barely, one of his hand withdrew from the wall and wrapped itself around my throat. “Mouthy.” He whispered. “Your mouth will put you in big trouble, Blaire.”

I smirked and wrapped my fingers around his wrist, trying to get his hand off me.

“I like my hand around your throat.” He hoarsely said. “I’d like you fuck you this way.”

My lungs forgot to open the airway from his words. I gasped.

“I’d also like to bend you over the desk and pound your cunt raw.” He added letting go of my throat and turning me around briskly.

I gasped from the sudden movement of my body.

Roman presses his free hand on the small of my back, flattening to the wall. “I like this.” He whispered.

I closed my eyes.

His hand travelled down from the small of my back toward my arse, down toward my thighs, finally stopping where the hem of my dress was.

“Roman.” I whispered.

He didn’t respond, instead flicked the material so it was bunched around my waist.

“You sure do come prepared, Miss Anderson.” He rasped, bringing his face close to my ear and gently nipping the lobe. “You want to get into trouble by not wearing proper underwear?” He asked.

“I am wearing an underwear.” I replied, my voice barely audible.

Roman chuckled as his fingers found the waist band of my tiny lace thong.

I cried out was he pulled the fragile lace causing it to rip from the other end.

“This is assault!” I hissed.

He used his index finger to trace my slit.

Jesus.

This was happening?

This was a dream.

“You say assault.” He whispered. “I see you’re wet. Do I turn you on, Blaire?” He asked. “Do make that cunt drip?”

It knocked out a breath from my lungs.

“Would you want me to stop, Blaire?” He chuckled darkly.

“Y-yes.” I reply, as firm as my voice let’s me.

“Your cunt says otherwise.” He hummed using his fingers to separate my folds, rubbing the seeping fluids around my quivering pussy.

Nobody else but myself has touched me down there and I see, that I have treated myself really different.

Roman pays attention to each little fold making me groan lowly before he finds my nerve bundle.

“Sensitive.” He declared as he felt my whole body jerk up from his stroke against my clit.

“Oh!” I cried when he pinched the little nub using his forefinger and thumb nail.

“You like that, huh?” He asked repeating his action. “Does it make you more wet?”

“Mmm.” I moaned placing my both hands on the wall for support as his fingers circled my slit in a rubbing motion.

Slowly speeding up, faster. More faster.

“Oh, Roman.” I cried from the build up inside my stomach. “Roman…”

“Are you going to cum?” He chuckled, his face close to mine as the tip of his tongue lashed at my earlobe. “Are you going to come over my hand, puppy?”

“Yes.” I breathed.

He chuckles. “Say this, cunt belongs to me.”

What, now?

Sounds awfully similar to my dream.

“Say it.” He says.

My feet almost leave the ground as I get in my tip toes, my back arches ready to convulse.

“Say it.” He orders. “Or I don’t let you cum.”

I cried as his movements slow. “Roman.”

He smeared my juices all over my pussy, dragged the wetness down my thighs and painted my lower body with my arousal.

“Say it, Blaire.” He whispered biting down my earlobe.

“This…” I breathe as his fingers returned to my pulsing, quivering core. “This cunt belongs to you “ I whispered.

“Good puppy.” He soothes as his erratic rubbing starts again, making my whole body convulse under two seconds.

He pushed himself away from me after wiping my wet remains on my dress.

I took a second. “What was that?” I asked. “Why did you do it?”

I turned to face him. I could tell my cheeks were flushed. “You fucking savage!”

“I don’t remember you complaining.” He said popping a cigarette on his mouth from a cigarette holder and lit the butt. “On the contrary I recall, you’ve been using those fingers of yours and my name as your daily fulfilment of your sexual needs.”

Cocky bastard.

“It’s rude to spy.” I say straightening my dress and discarding my ruined panties on the floor.

He walked back to his chair. 

“I never cried martyr, Blaire.” He said using as ashtray to pit the smoke dust. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I stood there. For ten seconds.

Thirty seconds.

A minute.

“Just like that?” I hissed.

He raised am eyebrow.

“You just…” I point at the wall. “You just…”

“Finger fucked you?” He asked. “Use your words, Blaire. It makes you smart.”

I snorted. “You bastard!”

“Just because I fingered you in my office doesn’t mean I’ve turned into a puddle. Leave. Now.”

I gasped from his words. “You’re rude and insensitive.”

He ignored me while I stood there.

Turning around, I left.

Pink was waiting outside the door.

She smirked when she saw me get out. “Got thrown out, new girl?”

“Fuck off, cunt.” I hissed as I stored outside the club in the cold air waisting for the car to pull up.

I hate him. Period

_

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Now, I have nothing to say lol. This is the first possible chapter of The Underboss’s Ballerina if you can connect, there this is from ofc, Ariel’s pov. If you haven’t checked that book out, please do so. It would mean a lot. Love.

Questions

Kittens or Pups?

-November.

17

The next day, I woke up after one in the afternoon feeling my sweat matting the linen sheets to my body.

Groaning, I turned to the other side of the bed and reached out for the pillow that used as a body pillow.

“Jesus.” I muttered hot from the afternoon heat. “This is fucking hot.”

Never mind my ranting but London doesn’t have the perfect  weather in the world.

I’d be surprised if the sun came out. The only thing London has in cold wind whipping and rain falling like an asshole.

But I was accustomed to of living there all my life. Italy was fucking hot. Like Hot. The sun was out at five thirty by ten the outside would be almost dazzling with sunlight.

It sucked, maybe they can talk among themselves and make the weather adjustable on both sides?

Who am I kidding? I’ve gone bat shot crazy, I swear.

Sighing I sat up on the bed stretching my arms above my head as the house maid entered my room.

The same drone one. I an yet to know her name. But I don’t bother honestly. She’s no fun.

“Good afternoon, Miss Anderson.” She said in a monotone. “You slept past breakfast again. Don Roman said you can take the day off from your work.”

I snort sighed falling on my back. The maid kept the laundry on the edge of the bed and collected the dirty cloths from the hamper. “Boss also mentioned that Donna Coralyn would like for you to join her in the kitchen.”

“Can you leave?” I asked rudely.

“You’re very rude, miss Anderson.” She said blankly. “But I’ll leave once my work is done.”

I rolled my eyes and groaned into the pillow.

This women…is the epitome of disturbance and I have no idea why can’t I stand her the fuck!?

After brushing my teeth and a shower later, I dressed myself in a light blue dress, courtesy of Donna Coralyn, I suppose, she is the only person with a decent taste around here, I walked down to the kitchen.

Mind you, I knew where the kitchen was cause I didn’t get my snacks delivered into my room, so I took the matter into my own hand.

In the kitchen, Donna Coralyn was standing behind a counter, using cold water to rinse a good digit of fresh plump, strawberry.

“Look at you.” She teased. “Did you sleep good?”

“I’ve slept better.” I said, still sleepy.

I swear the weather makes it so hard. Even at night, I’ll be sweating, until the air condition comes on.

“Me too.” She says. “Last night was awful weather.”

“I know, right!” I said. “It was horrible.”

She agrees. “I have a friend coming over.” She said. “Would you like to have a late lunch with us, I didn’t eat yet. I am still waiting on her.”

“Oh?” I asked. I mean lunch with her is fun. She orders the most delicious food. And it’s easy to talk to her, God knows I can do with a person or two in my life.

Without them online friends, I am a loner.

“What would I do with your friend?” I asked taking a washed strawberry and biting into the juicy goodness.

“You can call one of your friends too.” She said thoughtfully. “Do you have a friend at the club?”

I suppose. I don’t know if Ariel is free.

“I do.” I reply. “I don’t have a phone or her number tho.”

Donna pursed her lips. “Silly worm. Just tell me her name, we can mange from the club contacts.”

“Right.” I said feeling stupid. “It’s Ariel. She goes by Bubbles.”

Five minutes later, we had Ariel’s contact number and I was waiting for her to pick up.

“Hello!” She said cheerfully. “Who is this?”

“Hey.” I replied. “It’s me, Blaire.”

“You have a phone?” She asked. I could almost see her pouting.

“Nope.” I replied. “I was wondering if you’d like to have  a late lunch, maybe…” I said looking at Donna Coralyn who was looking inpatient and squeaky.

“At the estate.” She mouthed. “Tell her to come over!”

“Lunch?” Ariel asked.

“At the estate.” I said.

“Where?” She asked. “Estate? Why?”

“For lunch, Bubbles.” I said with an eye roll. “In ten minutes.” I added watching Donna Coralyn hold up ten fingers.

“Sure.” She says. “Nobody is there, right?”

“Nope.” I said. “Just food.”

“Yeah, Kay.” She said. “Be there in ten, babe.”

“Kay.” I ended the call and handed the furry phone to Donna.

The circular lunch table was set out in the gardens on the backyard with two maids bringing out food dishes.

Another women joined us on the table, I learned she was Donna’s friend as they hugged the life out of each other.

“Oh, biscuit.” She said. “I missed you!”

“Oh, I missed you soo, biscuit.” Donna said. “Sit, let’s eat. I am so hungry, I can’t even.”

Both the women beside each other making me feel like a third wheel.

I don’t wanna do this. I think as I slurp on my lemonade. The women had a bottle of Rosé opened and was talking about stuff that I had no idea about.

Ariel came more five minutes later, accompanied by a maid. She made an effort to make her self look presentable, with her pink hair in a pony, revealing her neck.

“There you are.” I admonished. “I am feeling like a third wheel.”

“Ariel!” Donna Coralyn’s friend greeted.

“Hello, Miss Giovanni.” Ariel said placing her small shoulder bag on the grass by the only empty chair.

“How are you love?” Miss Giovanni asked. “All good?”

“I am fine, miss Giovanni.” She said. “How are you?”

“Perfect, love.” She said. “Sit.”

Great. All of them knows each other and I feel like shit.

“Today your day off?” Ariel asks sitting beside me.

“So I have been told.” I reply picking up a bite sized appetizer.

“Mine is too.” She added. “I was at the ballet class, I smell like shit.”

I giggled at her words.

“I thought you said just food.” She said. “That’s Angelo’s mother.”

What the fuck!?

I swear, if I knew…

“I didn’t know that.” I say. “I am sorry ,Ariel…if I knew…”

“Nah.” She said. “Alyssa is pretty cool plus she’s nice.”

I nod.

So no beef with them mothers. Cool.

“Besides, we just gonna eat and we can go up to your room and discuss, Verity?” She asks. “I need somebody to discuss that book with or I’ll go nuts.”

“I haven’t finished that yet!” I whined. “I barely get any time!”

Ariel pouted. “You suck. You’re boring.”

I purse my lips and shake my head. “You’re boring.”

Our food arrives, some kind of pasta with stuffing inside.

“This is ravioli.” Donna Coralyn points out to me. “This has chicken and cheese stuffing. You’ll love it.”

“Sounds delish.” I agree. She must have seen my discomfort watching me move the food around my plate.

“You’re not from Italy, are you?” Alyssa asked.

“Nope.” I replied. “England.”

“I love England.” She says. “Do you like Italy?”

“Somewhat.” I said. “The weather is too hot but everything else works.”

She grins and nods.

Lunch was going fine, me and Ariel was discussing the Tess book I read that  she lent me, in the first week.

To be honest the men in that book was crack heads. I wish it was a not less sad and depressing.

But I was a classic what can we expect, that century authors only wanted go make depressing stories and stories about suicide.

I was talking when I felt a presence behind me. The large figure casting a shadow over the table.

I fumed. Asshole.

I haven’t seen him since last night.

‘The finger fuck’ his words not mine and the ‘get the fuck out’ after I would do anything to forget this man.

“Mama.” I heard another voice. It was the Mister, black ice berg eyes. He bent and placed a kiss on Alyssa’s cheek. “How’s my favourite girl?” He asked.

“I am fine.” Alyssa said annoyed from the mollycoddling. “Leave me alone.” She said when he kissed her other cheek again. “I swear, Angelo! You smell like Mary Jane  it’s disgusting!” She shrieked.

I ignored the bickering and shoved a forkful in my mouth and chewed rather unlady like before shoving another forkful inside my mouth.

“I didn’t know, there was a luncheon plan.” Roman said lowly. “What happened to inform me for occasions, love?”

“I need yous permission?” Donna Coralyn asked pointing her fork at Roman. “Hmm?”

“You don’t, love.” He said bending to kiss the women in her cheek. “You know you don’t.”

“You want to eat?” She asked. “Angelo? You want to eat?”

“No.” Roman replied. “We ate.”

“Well.” Alyssa nodded. “Then leave us alone maybe? You reek…”

Angelo kissed Alyssa on her cheek again making her yell profanities at in Italian.

I finished my food, eating like a starved human because one, I don’t really want to look at his fucking face. Two. Don’t want to be near him because my body reacts like a whore around him. Three. I don’t really like him at this moment.

Roman talked to Donna Coralyn about something in Italian and leaned across the table to grab the bowl of strawberries.

I squirmed in my seat from his close proximity. I knew I was already dripping like a broken fucking tap.

“I’ll see you tonight, Blaire.” He whispered just the moment before he straightened himself.

His intoxicated breath fanned my cheek, making warmth spread all over my body and pool on my core.

“You okay?” Ariel asked once the duo of them left.

“Yeah.” I sigh. “Perfect.”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I know y’all crazy crazy about the next chapter but I feel like I’ll disappoint you some how, so y’all sorry I’m advance. Lol.

Also I know we are repeating scenes and it’s stupid but it’s just this chapter. There aren’t any more repeat scenes. The ones we missed there like their pool date will be here. Don’t worry. Loves.

Questions:

If you’ve watched godfather III what’s your view at the relationship of mary and vincent?

-November.

18

I sat on the bed, I was long done with Dinner. It was once again served in my room because Donna Coralyn was out on a date.

Imagine how many dates she goes on. Women sure loves to go places and eat. And feed. She’s a damn monster feeder.

I patted my stomach, making my way to the bathroom, to brush my teeth and wash my face before bed.

I have no idea what Roman meant when he said ‘I’ll see you tonight, Blaire.’

You see my shaking my ass to pervy pauls every night. I wanted to point out.

And then you almost assault me, almost every night I see you.

Like, keep hands to yourself or use them better.

I don’t want his teasing foreplay and all that dry humping crap.

I want raw…

What the fuck?

I walked out of the bathroom, brush in my hand, as I heard the door closed. The light’s I had turned off before, because I planed on you know, sleeping.

Maybe a little bit of…yeah. That too. Finger fucking myself, as Roman puts it.

What a cunt.

“Blaire.” His voice came throughp the darkness.

Bastard piglet. What your CCTV’s ain’t enough?

Fucking pornohollic.

I didn’t want to let him know that I was here. I wanted for him to fuck off and leave me alone.

I walked back to the bathroom, finished brushing my teeth and washing my face.

A part of me believed that, Roman left.

Good for me, I don’t really want to be around him. I walked back into the room with a view to fall on the bed and have a damn good quality sleep.

I gasped as I saw the dark figure sitting on the edge of my bed.

Roman clapped his hands once to turn on the lights all over the room, bringing me face to face with the good looking asshole sitting on my bed.

“What are you doing here?” I asked crossing my hands over my chest. “Get out, I don’t like you.”

“Sentiment is mutual, puppy.” He said patting his thigh. “Come here.”

“Nope.” I replied. “I’m sleepy and tired and bloated and fucking sleepy. Fuck off.”

“I said.” He started. “Come here, Blaire. I do not like to repeat.”

“You just did.” I point out.

He darted from his position and grabbed ahold of my hair pulling my head back so I am looking him into the eyes.

“Don’t you fucking dare get pompous with me, puppy.” He rasped. “I’ll ruin that mouth of yours.”

I stare into his dark brown eyes, it sends a chill down my back. “Fuck you, Roman. You have no right-”

“Oh, you’d love to fuck me, Pup.” He smirked. “Your mouth would get you in trouble, Blaire. Big trouble.”

I snorted. “You’re an asshole.”

“So you keeping repeating.” He said coarsely, his face drawing closer to mine, his nose running up to the length of my neck.

I grabbed the edges of shit suit jacket to steady myself on my feet as his free hand glided down my stomach and between my legs.

“Dripping.” He announced. “I didn’t even touch you, yet you’re dripping like a little puta.”

“Don’t call me names.” I said. “It’s disgusting.”

Roman chuckled backing us up against the closed bathroom door, his hands still between my legs, rubbing, taunting my lips, teasing my clit over the material of my shorts using the pad of his thumb.

Roman pulled the flesh of my neck between his teeth and sucked in the place leaving a mark before moving down and up and his mouth all over my neck.

Signing, I leaned my head back, touching the wooden door as his hand played with my pussy, the other around my hair. His mouth on me.

I was seeing stars from him just touching me.

“Put your legs around me.” He whispered.

I obliged, jumping slightly and putting my legs around him, his hands clasped my arse walking back toward the bed, dropping me on top of the smooth surface, he pulled away his mouth from my throat.

“Loose your pants.” He ordered, pushing away his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging the material off his body, revealing the firm and hard muscles underneath.

I shimmied off my pants and handed them over to him. Careless, like he was, he threw the faux silk away and hovered over me.

I shouldn’t be doing this.

Roman is trouble on legs, bullet shot on fingers. Anger on the tip of his nose.

I should be telling him to get the fuck out of this room.

But for some abnormal reason, I spread my legs, making space for him.

What an asshole I am. I cussed mentally.

Roman worked in my swollen wet pussy with his fingers making me sigh and put my head back on the pillow. I stared up at the ceiling feeling his hands on me, the silence of the room only disturbed by my pent up breath.

Roman slid up my body latching on my throat again, like it was his life line. “Fucking wet for me, Blaire.” He whispered. “Is this what you imagine when you fuck yourself to sleep?”

I whined as he shimmied off me finger inside me and used the pad of his thumb to rub my clit.

“Do you imagine, it’s my fingers fucking you?” He asks, his voice deep and smooth like butter. “Or is it my dick you see when you pump your fingers inside your cunt and cry out my name, Blaire?”

“Stop.” I breathed.

“Shall I?” He chuckled pulling his finger out of my hole.

“No. Please.” I whined making him chuckle once more.

“Please.” He repeated. “I like the sound of that, Blaire.”

I breathed in deep, my eyes still closed, vibrations all over my body, pussy quivering and shivering from the previous assault but wanting more to get that release, I so much craved.

“It’s going to hurt to get adjusted, puppy.” He said. “I don’t promise to be gentle.”

That sentence did something to me

I have no idea what happened but I placed both of my hands on his torso, slowly slid them up his chest around is shoulders pulling him close.

His fabricated arousal touched my opening with the swollen head.

“Do you like touching me, Blaire?” He asked. “You like your hands in me, Puppy?”

“Yes.” I breathed as I met his eyes with mine. There were filled with carnal craving as he settled himself inside me with one deep push making me cry out, nails digging into his shoulders, head thrown back, seeing stars on the plain white ceiling.

“Jesus.” I whispered feeling the intense amount of pain blooming inside me, tears leaking my eyes.

Roman’s hand went down, caressing my chest, tweaking the taunt nipples before settling between my legs, where we were connected.

“Relax.” He whispered, fingers playing with my clit.

I tried to relax, biting my lip, trying to find anything to help me relax.

Nothing.

All I could feel was his cock nestled inside me. All I could feel was his presence all over me.

I loved it.

My hands slowly, softened around his shoulders, circling his neck, pulling his face closer to me.

Roman looked uncomfortable.

I raised my head up with a thought of a kiss but he moved his face away, burring his head on the crook of my neck, pulling out of me and pushing back in slowly.

He was big. So very big.

I felt his tongue on my bruised neck, my ear. His lips putting more marks on my throat, neck and wherever his mouth went.

“Roman.” I moaned from his slow movements inside me, needing him to go faster. My release was close, I could tell. I needed him to go faster.

Roman ignored my plea as he kept his pace deliberate and slow. Making me feel every inch of him, slow but hard.

“Fuck, Blaire.” He grunted. “You’re gripping me like a vice.”

I hummed at his response trying to lift up my hips, netting his motion with mine.

“You want me to fuck you hard, puppy?” He teased pulling his hand from my pussy and placing it on the bed, bracing himself. “You don’t like me being gentle with you, Blaire.”

“Thought…” I gasped. “You didn’t do gentle, Roman.”

“Damn right, I do not.” He gritted pulling out of me and shoving himself back inside with enough force to make me squat away from me. “You like that?” He asked hooking his arms under my thighs, bringing me closer to him.

I moaned once he felt I was adjusted and picked up a pace. Hard, fast, ruthless.

“Roman!” I cried out hanging on to his body for dear life while animalistic grunt and gasps left his throat.

“I close, Roman.” I cried raising up my hips, arching my back, trying to find something that gave me friction over my erratic heart beat.

“Cum for me, Blaire.” He grunted. “Show me.”

I did, my whole body shook from  the tremor of a powerful orgasm ripping through my self, pushing me to the brink of insanity.

My head dropped lazily on the bed surface after Roman grunted and emptied himself inside.

Roman pulled his almost softening self out with a pop, my whole body protested against the emptiness that took over myself.

He pulled the condom off and tied a knot at the edge, lulling up his pants and shrugging on his shirt.

“Are you leaving?” I asked, not bothering to get up, because I knew I couldn’t.

“Yes.” He replied.

Yeah well, his sexual fortitude was something discussable when just leaves after one round.

Old dick.

“What about-” Cuddles? I wanted to ask but refrained.

He was already out of the door, not bothering any kind of explanation.

Wow.

I ran my hands through my tangled up hair and looked up at the white ceiling, replayed the last thirty minutes over and over.

This was just fucking, huh?

This is how it felt?

Ruined and used?

Wincing I got up, used the bathroom and walked back into the bed.

I wasn’t bleeding. Thank god.

Getting fucked and being sore didn’t help, I still had to work the next night even though I spent the whole day in bed wincing to move from this side to that.

Bit whatever, right?

Blaire feels sexy tonight.

I haven’t seen Ariel tonight after she changed into her outfit and danced relatively fifteen minutes with me.

The ache between my legs was still so very much evident from Roman’s monster dick.

Another chick joined me on stage four, not sure where Ariel went and it almost the end of the shift.

“Do you have any idea where Bubbles is?” I asked the random girl who joined the stage with me after our dance.

She just shrugged lighting up a cigarette.

Honestly, this girl worries me too much, sometimes.

There is a commotion outside the green room, so I walk out, slam the door behind me, ready to see some good gold drama-

“Roman?” I ask finding the man looking less composed and walking toward the green room. ’Have you seen Ariel at all?“

“No.” He replied impassively grabbing my upper arm and dragging me out of the hallway and outside through the employee gate.

“Oi, I look like a bloody sack of potato to you, fucking asshole?” I curse at the man still not looking eye to eye to him for our activities last night, massaging the area where he grabbed me. “Have some compassion, mate, I am girl not your fucking boxing buddy, cunt.”

“Now, watch that mouth.” Roman hissed pinning me with his dark gaze. “Or I’ll do it for you.”

I roll my eyes not wanting to talk to him really.

I was still upset for last night.

It’s not like expect too much, I just wish he’d be a little more nice.

Heck, I am not asking this asshole to fall in love with me or something the cunt.

I’d never fall in love with him. Ew.

That’s disgusting.

I’d never fall in love with anyone. The idea repulses me.

A sleek black car pulled up in front of us as a valet got out of the driver’s seat handing Roman the keys to the car.

“Get in.” He orders.

“No.” I spat. “I need to know where Ariel is.”

“Ariel is a big girl, she is very capable of holding her juvenility in unlike you.” He said without and once of emotion. “Get in, don’t get on my nerve, you won’t like me tonight.”

I get in the car slamming the door more forcefully then I meant to before Roman drives away from the club premises.

I hate being in a car with him.

The tension on my part is to much.

It sucks.

I feel his free palm on my exposed thigh.

“Move it.” I order.

He acts oblivious to my command as I cross my arms over my chest defensively already feeling my whorish body react to his touch.

His hand slowly creeps upwards before slipping inside the skimpy flimsy sequin skirt of my outfit.

I clear my throat as his finger assaults in my swollen lips.

Why am I letting him do this to me?

Where is my self respect?

“Oh Blaire.” Roman chuckles pulling his hand away from my panties and grabbing the steering wheel with both his hands. “You can never keep that cunt dry around me, can you?”

I roll my eyes and look out of the window, closing my thighs tightly, feeling the wetness increase for the need of attention.

His attention more specifically.

The car halts in front of the villa like hotel once again, Roman gets out followed by me as he tosses the key to a valet and grabs my upper arm once again dragging me to the golden elevator.

“It hurts, Roman.” I hiss jerking my hand from his grip. “What do you think I am-”

“My whore, Blaire.” He bluntly says pushing me against the elevator wall, resulting a jerking motion from the elevator as he presses the stop button.

“What is your problem?” I ask eye boring in to his.

“I don’t have a condom on me right now.” He whisperers, hands pressed on the elevator wall on either side of my head hips pressed against mine. “But help me , I can’t wait to be inside that cunt of yours, puppy.”

Is it legal for empowering woman kind to be turned on by words ad vulgar as that

If not, I resign for the sole purpose of unholy sex.

“You don’t need a condom.” I say pushing my hips against his, so my heat touches his hardened girth. “Morning after-”

I don’t even get to finish my sentence as Roman hosts me up with one arm and the other undoes his fly and lowers me on to his hardened cock, pushing my panties aside with his free hand.

I moan from full feeling, the wetness leaking out of me, making it easier, my muscles grip him firm inside as Roman’s head drop on the crook of my neck.

“Jesus.” I mumble at the feeling as he pulls out and pushes in, over, over and over, repeating his action, rotating his hips, hard but not fast.

Fucking me. Really fucking me.

“Roman.” I whisper. “Faster.”

He chuckles darkly  pulling his hips back and shoving his girth inside forcefully, feeling every inch of me.

“Faster.” I beg. “Please go faster.”

“Oh, we have time for fast, Puppy.” He says, keeping his pace steady.

I feel my stomach twist and turn from his ministrations, my legs going jelly, unable to hold myself straight together.

“Cum for me, Puppy.” He rasps. “Cum for me.”

And so I let go of myself, head hitting the cool metal wall of the elevator, mouth open in a silent moan, tremors rushing all over my body as Roman jerks inside me, flooding me with his arousal.

After taking a second to gain our lost breath, Roman pushes the start button and the cubicle raises upward, not a single notion exchanged between us.

We get out from the personal elevator, me first followed my Roman, heels clicking into the polished marbles as I make my way to the bedroom, without looking at him, hoping for a shower.

Silently, Roman follows me.

This is awkward.

“You realise, this is awkward right?” I ask turning on my heels and facing him, he was shrugging off his navy blue suit jacket and undoing the vest.

“And what is awkward?” He asked not sparing me a glance.

“We just fucked on the lift.” I point out.

“And so, your point is?” He asks.  “What do you expect of me?”

Huh? I gasp.

I do not expect any thing of him.

I just said it was weird.

“What do you want, Blaire? Flowers? Gifts? What?”

“Now, why are you getting triggered?” I ask crossing my arms over my chest.

“I do not expect anything from you, if that’s what you’re thinking. Your hearts and flowers and gifts won’t be necessary, I’d like to fuck you, not date you Roman.” I say.

And then he pushes me against  the glass wall, and slides inside me again. “I’d very much like your cunt around my dick as well, Blaire.” He hisses, one hand grabbing my jaw in a grip  the other bracing himself against the glass panel as he fucks me raw and fast. “But that’s just it. If you expect flowers and hearts, it’ll be your heart on the floor under my goddamn shoe.”

I breathe in with every words passing from his lips as he releases my jaw, turns me over, so my whole body hugs the glass, my both hands against the glass wall, hair wrapped around his wrist.

Roman groans like an animal as he rams inside me, violently, no ounce of compassion or care, just pure, raw fucking, full of rage, want and need.

Roman finally finishes the last round, coming all over my stomach  using his fist to jerk himself into an orgasm, groaning, sweat lingering on his tanned skin, head thrown back, out of style.

I haven’t seen him like this before.

So in lost of his own pleasure.

He slumps back on the bed beside me, looking up at the ceiling and mirror his actions.

It was already sunrise, we successfully utilised our time in ways we both wanted.

Roman was yet to kiss me on the mouth, every other place in my body, he had visited, his mouth has devoured.

Except my mouth and down there.

“I’m going to take a shower.” He volunteers.

“Whatever.” I say turning on my side and pulling the coverlet between my legs, my pussy was pounding in raw pain.

Somebody was yet to being me some Levonelle.

“What?” Roman snorts. “You want flowers, Blaire?” He teases

“In your dreams.” I roll my eyes closing them.

“Take the day off, it’s Ariel’s day off too.”

“Leave.” I hiss. “I’m sleepy, go do whatever the fuck you do early morning and stop fucking annoying me and thank you for the day off, boss.”

I hear no response from the man as he leaves but I hear the shower running.

19

I met up with Ariel for Lunch that day, given that she looked worried as soon as I gave Roman the middle finger and told him to to wank his dick and stepped into the food bar.

My friend looked worried.

She also had a doggie that almost made me fall in love. Almost.

It was lazy. The dog was.

I tried to cheer Ariel up by mentioning mine and Roman’s nightly errands.

I mean it’s highly interesting when the man just pounces on you and sprouts all kind of dirty vulgar langue while he fucks you till you’re in pain.

I mean- it’s highly enjoyable, I am not going to lie, but it’s also saddening because well-

It’s my first time. Roman was my first time, as much as I can guarantee I won’t fall in love with him, I cannot help bit feel a little bit of sad and empty when he just leaves.

Just leaves.

I sigh, sitting on the car, fingering the strands of my hair after my lunch date with Ariel.

The car is supposed to take me to the DiMariano estate where I am wanted- no ordered to be there for dinner.

Dinner apparently is a big deal in the family.

Especially when Marcus is here.

Now, I have no idea who Marcus is.

But Donna Coralyn kept talking about Marcus like he was some some exotic specie fruit that she’d like to gobble up.

I established that he was her husband.

The car stopped at the estate at exact five in the evening. Tired a bit, I got out and made my way to my bedroom with a view of taking a shower.

I felt sweaty from the heat and tired from the food I had but not gonna lie that was she good ass cheeseburger. No cheapness on the cheese.

“Blaire.” I heard.

Sighing I turned around to see Roman standing on the doorway of me bedroom.

“You know.” I begin. “For a mob boss you sure have pretty much free time to roam around and creep people up.”

He pushes himself from the door frame walking toward me.

The man’s close proximity doesn’t scare me any more. It turns me on.

And after this morning’s office sex, he turns me on even more.

“Do you need me to spread my legs so you can call me ‘my whore’ again?”

He doesn’t answer takes bigger syried to stand in front of me.

Almost touching me chest to chest.

“What do you want, Roman?” I whisper.

“I love how your mouth stops spitting shit once I’ve got you where I want you, pup.” He says.

Right. About that.

“What do you want?” I ask tucking my hair behind my ear. A towel clutched between my fingers.

He gently takes the cloth from me and drops it on the floor.

“I want to be between your legs, Blaire.” He says using both his arms to pull me toward him so my hands press against his chest. “You’re driving me mad, since this morning.”

I look at him.

How can he talk like that without breaking a little bit of the vibe that he stays in 24/7

“I’m really tired-”

“Are you denying me?” He asks. “Puppy?”

He makes me sit on the bed, with his hands on my shoulder and pushes on my chest gently so I fall back on the bed.

“I haven’t been able to think about anything but your cunt, Blaire.” He whispers huskily. I close my eyes.

There was going to be no foreplay.

Okay with that, his voice is enough to make me soak.

I am shame in women kind. Sorry.

“What are you doing to my head, Blaire?” He asks  I hear his buckle being undone, zipper pulled down before he crawls up my body. “What are you doing to me?”

I wrap my arms around his neck, eyes boring into his and he uses one hand to make access and the other to hold himself up.

“Do want me to fuck you, Blaire?” He asks. The swollen tip if his girth ribbing against my entrance.

“Fuck me, Roman.” I whisper feeling myself already quiver from need for him.

He pushes himself inside with a deep push. His eyes flutter close. I keep mine open and watch him fuck me.

Slow deep strokes turn into hard and fast pounding, each push and pull bringing out a cry of need and want from me. His both hands pressed on either side of my head on the bed as he fucks me hard and fast, changing it deep and slow.

The build up in my stomach starts. “Roman.”

“Not now, Blaire.” He rasps. “Not now.”

“I can’t-” I throw my head back feeling his ministrations inside me. “I can’t! Oh, Roman!” I scream as he hits my sweet spot eyes bulging open, head thrashing, nails digging into the skin of his neck, making him hiss.

“Roman!” I cry lifting off my hips meeting his thrust with a rhythm of my own. “Please-”

“Not now, puppy.” He hisses. “I’ve missed you, let me fuck you.”

“I’m close.”

“You’ll cum with me.” He urges.

I moan pushing my body up my chest pressed against his, arms around his neck grabbing onto him for dear life as he pounds into me. Ruthless, animalistic and full of need.

“Come on, puppy.” He hisses, I feel him swell inside me, thrusts getting sloppier as he places demanding kisses on my neck.

“Fuck, Come in, Blaire.”

I moan letting the dam burst as I flood him with my arousal. Ran jerks inside me, a throaty groan leaving him, head thrown back as he comes inside me.

Making me wince he pulls out and lays beside me, breathing deep, there were tears on my eyes from trying to hold my orgasm back.

“My dad’s joining us for dinner.” He whispers propping himself up on one elbow so he can look into my sweaty face. Brushing the hairs matted to my face, he looks into my eyes. “Be good, keep that mouth in check, sí?”

“Can’t promise no shit.” I said trying to catch my breath moving my face away so he stops looking at me like he was.

I don’t like how he’s looking at me.

“Don’t want your promise, just behave.” He orders placing a kiss on my cheek. “I’ll see you at the dinner table.”

“Fuck off.” I rap, taking off my dress and discarding my bra before crawling up to the centre of the bed and lay down pulling the coverlets over me to hide my shame. I’ll still have one hour to nap and then some time to shower and make myself look presentable.

Yes. A nap is in order.

I hear Roman close the door on his way out.

I wake up in forty five minute to my nap and take a shower to relive me from the sweatiness of myself, blow dry my hair and the whole process takes me ages. I pull my hair up in a nice pony tail like Ariel does, the women was master at doing messy ponytail and rocking the style.

I find a casual dress with short sleeves and slip it on after I’ve covered myself with knickers.

Dinner was nothing like I expected, everything was causal. Chilled even. It felt like a normal family having dinner like normal people.

“Marcus.” Coralyn pouts sitting on her husband’s lap like she was for whole dinner. “I’m done with food  can we go to bed, I am tired.”

“Some more.” The older man says meaning business.

It’s been like this whole dinner.

She’s whining and she’s eating and he’s feeding her and she’s still whining.

“I don’t want more.” She whines. “I don’t wanna be too full.”

“Alright.” The man sighs. “Get up.”

I shake my head, as the older couple makes their way to the bedroom to sleep off or whatever.

It was almost ten fifteen or something.

I snort at the thought and proceed to stuff whatever was left on my plate.

How are they married for like forever and still so hung up on each other?

Aren’t they supposed to like hate each other after ten or twelve years of marriage?

Marriage is scary. Period.

After dinner, Roman and I parted ways separately. I stopped by the kitchen to grab a flan pudding and gobble it up before I journeyed toward the bedroom.

I was about to round the corner to open the door when I  felt a grip on my upper arm and jerk pulling me back to the hardened chest.

“Jesus, fuck.” I curse. “What’s wrong with you?” I ask Roman, my hand on his cheat bracing myself as his are around my waist, we stand on the almost dimly lit hallway staring at each other.

“You’ve been driving me mad, since dinner.” He whispered without cracking so much of a smile or a smirk.

“Yeah well.” I shrug. “I have that effect on people. Let me go.”

“I want to fuck you, so damn hard right now.” He whispers. “So hard that you forget how to speak, puppy.”

I roll my eyes pushing against his chest with a view to turn and leave.

My pussy was still recovering. Quivering trying to cope up, getting wet still worked up.

“Leave me!” I yell. “I’ll bite your dick, Roman leave me!”

He doesn’t, instead he bends low and throws me over his shoulder.

“Oi, you mother fucking cunt of a bitch!” I yell slapping his arse hard. “Leave me, I can walk you shitty ass.”

“Shut up.” He grumbles and climbs up through a set of stairs before he crosses a hallway and kicks open a door to a dark room all while I yell profanities at him.

“What a cunt.” I hiss as Roman spreads my legs climbing between them, I am already drenching in arousal as he lifts off my dress.

“Well a kiss might me nice.” I complain loosing my dress and pull down my lace bra. “But no!”

“Shut up.” He hisses his mouth dropping on the crook of my neck kissing as he unzips his slacks and lines his erection on my entrance.

“You took the morning after pill, didn’t you?” He rasps taking my flesh between his teeth and sucking on them.

“I did.” I whisper truthfully arms going around his neck as he pushes himself inside, throbbing and needy.

“Oh, fuck.” I curse feeling his hardness inside me, my nails dig into his skin as I lift my hop up indicating that he can move while he assaults my neck.

Roman pulls out a low groan leaving his mouth and then pushes in. “Fuck puppy.” He cusses as he rotates his hip, everything inside my stomach turns.

“Oh Blaire.” He rasps pulling back and pushing in again, his pace slow. Too slow.

It’s breaking me.

“Roman.” I whisper my back arching for the need of some friction he is denying me.

“Fuck.” I cry my grip around his shoulder tightening and head lifting up from the pillow and dropping against his shoulder.

The only thing I feel is the slow sweet pumping ache of pleasure inside my body, shaking me, tightening me, bringing me to a release.

“Roman-” I breathe but can’t finish when a loud sound pierces through the silence of the bedroom apart from our moans and groans.

And then the sound rains.

It happens in a flash, Roman pulls out of me and pushes me off the bed and rolls down himself, using a hand on my head he forces me to keep down.

“What’s happening?” I ask voice barely heard over the sound of bullets fired from probably machine gun.

“It’s an ambush.” Roman hisses. “Fuck.”

“What’s an ambush?” I ask almost on the verge of tears the sound hurting my ears and bullets flying all over the feathers of the pillow on the air, the mattress absorbing some of the bullets.

A total of thirty five seconds later the sound stops.

“Jesus.” I breathe trying to get up but Roman forces me down.

“Are you mad?” He hisses. “Stay down!”

The firing starts again just after roman shoves me down in a laying position on the cool marble.

“A bunch of assholes.” I curse. “Never taught them manners their mummies.”

“Yeah.” Roman says. “Shut up.” As he reaches for the phone on his slack pocket and dials a number.

“The estate’s been ambushed.” He barks. “I need back up ten times security. Get me Angelo. Now.”

The brush fire lasts more twenty seconds.

We stay lying on the floor for more the five minutes when Roman’s phone rings.

He answers it and a listens for a second and then sighs turning to sit up.

“Tell me they got them.” I say. “I’ll shove up s machine gun up their arse and rail their butt holes, bunch of cunts.”

“Shut up, Blaire.” He says undoing his shirt and giving it to me.

I snatch the material from his hand and shrug it on.

“We were lucky we didn’t get railed.” He says getting up and fixing his pants.

Tolling my eyes I follow him. “I’d have ruined their holes. Cunt.”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

I know, this chapter feels rushed and stupid and I just disappointed y’all after a wait. Sorry.

Questions:

Halloween or Christmas?

-November.

20

I fumbled with the strap of my purse as I waited outside on a waiting room.

Four days ago, I realised my periods this moth was late.

It was horrible when I didn’t see any trace of blood anywhere, the next morning. Or the morning after that. It was scary.

To me it was my worst nightmare.

I mean u heard plan B fails, but-

God, why me?

It was almost a two weeks after mine and Ariel’s pool date which went to the dogs.

It was also Ariel’s birthday.

The night before the pool date Angelo left for Greece. Since then Ariel has been off.

I think it’s her sixth sense on high alert. So our pool date wasn’t fun. It was rather gloom.

I waited for my turn to get the blood sample reports that I gave just half an hour earlier to see what was the result of my slacked period.

After the results the doctor was supposed to do a sonogram and find out what was going on.

I didn’t want go be pregnant.

I shared my paranoia with Roman last night, he was impassive as ever and told me that he’ll put me in an appointment.

I don’t know about him, but I sure as hell don’t want a kid at this moment.

Or any moment, for that matter.

Kids make me want to vomit and then do suicide.

The nurse came back into the waiting room and announced that the doctor would like to see me and my results were here.

Scared, paranoid, making a plan to kill myself if the results are positive I make way into the examination room where behind a small desk, a tanned, petite young women sit.

“Blaire Anderson, is it?” She asked in a gentle tone. “Take a seat.” She added getting two sheets of paper.

“Thank you, doctor.” I said, still fumbling with chain if my purse.

“Well, miss Anderson.” The doctor says in a disappointed tone. “It seems like you aren’t pregnant. I am sorry.”

I am not. I say mentally relived that the test was negative.

“Your monthly discharge delay was due to some hormonal imbalance.” She smiles gently fixing her glass and handing me the report. I take it.

“Would you like a sonogram, to be sure?”

Damn right.“ Yes.“

I better see for myself there is no shitty embryo in my stomach.

The lady leading me to a examination table, tells me to lay down and raise my top.

She does a scan using a play station controller like device moving about my stomach while she keeps an eye on the screen attached to the stick.

I keep my eyes on the screen too watching as she moves the stick around.

“Absolutely healthy and empty, sadly, miss Anderson.” The doctor says. “Maybe if you keep trying-”

“No thank you.” I reply way too quickly. “Would be possible to put me on contraceptives?”

“Sure.” The doctor replies. “I need a little bit thorough check up and some answers and I’ll prescribe you contraceptives-”

Fifteen minute later, I sit in the back seat if the black Range Rover with tinted glass signing as we make way to Ariel’s penthouse after stopping at the currier office to puck up her presents that Donna Coralyn sent.

The currier office worker scowled at me at our absurd parcel. It contained twenty helium filled happy birthday balloon with a small title bag of gift item and an obscenely huge yellow bird soft toy.

I love it. I had half a mind to keep it to myself.

Ariel doesn’t know that I was coming over.

She had know idea that I knew.

Cheeky minx, thought she could get away without baking a cake for me.

Jokes on little miss Ballerina with lovely pink hair.

I’ll bully her into making a cake. Yes. For me.

Cause I just dodged one of the biggest troubles of my goddamn fucking life.

And so I grab a ton of chocolates from the super market across from her building before I make my way into the elevator.

Ariel was mortified when she saw me walk into her house with balloon and a tote and a soft toy and grocery packet.

“Blaire-” She said when I dropped everything in the marble floor.

“I hate you.” I snap at the women.

“What?” She asks. “Why?”

“Why wouldn’t you tell me it was your birthday?” I whine dramatically and hug her.

“Awe.” She coes. “It’s not big of a deal, I don’t really celebrate.” She adds.

“But we are celebrating.” I say. “Now.”

“Blaire.” She sighs that says ‘babe please can we not?’

“Nope.” I say. “Look you gotta bake a cake. I got a load of chocolate and we’ll watch trashy TV while we eat cake, okay?”

“I am supposed to make a cake for me or you?” She asks raising an eyebrows.

“Me and only myself, Ariel.” I say. “Now get to work, women.”

“Way to make me feel special, eh?” She snorts and reluctantly walks into the kitchen as I push her.

“Jesus.” She says when she watches me unwrap the chocolate. “You’re a disaster. Stop that.”

“What?” I say putting a square of Belgium dark chocolate in my mouth. “You’re a disaster. Keep mixing.”

I garnish the cake with melted chocolate white it’s still cooling in square baking tin much to Ariel’s dismay and carry the cake into their living room while getting settled in the couch comfortably.

“Those are your gifts from Donna Coralyn by the way.” I point at the pile of stuff laying by entrance of living room.

“Oh?” She sounds surprised. “That’s- that’s so sweet.”

I watch Ariel walk toward the pile  and pull the huge soft toy and whatever was on the bag.

She puts her gifts away while I set up the trashy TV. Ariel returns with the yellow toy that we cuddle together from both sides while sharing the cake.

I say goodbye to Ariel after dinner and the car takes me back to the village inn hotel where me and Roman have been occupying a royal suite.

He meets me in the living room, himself just gotten back from wherever he was.

“How did you doctor’s appointment go?” He asked shrugging off the suit jacket he was wearing as I place my sling purse on the sofa.

“Good.” I say. “I am not pregnant and I got on the contraceptives so I don’t get a second scare.”

Sitting down Roman throws his head back sighing.

“Ariel seemed a bit off.” I say.

“She misses him and that’s good.”

“She shouldn’t miss him.” I say with an eye roll. “He is nothing but cruel to her, not to mention controlling-”

“Don’t drag your nose through where you shouldn’t, Blaire.” He snaps.

“You’ll always take his side.” I spat. “You’ll always take that mother fucker’s side even though what he did to her.”

“Go to your room, go showers or whatever. Cool off.”

“Fuck you.” I hiss picking up my purse.

“That you do.” He said.

“Yeah, how about we don’t do that anymore?” I snap turning around and walking toward the bedroom I slept in.

Yes. Roman and I slept in different beds. Didn’t matter who went to who when needy, but sleep and other things, totally separate.

And I’d like to keep it that way.

“Blaire.” I heard his voice roaring from behind me.

Not listing I walked toward the room, and left my shoes by the dot but Roman pushed the door away before I had to chance to close it shit on his face.

“Leave me alone, Roman.” I say. “Just- just leave me alone.”

He doesn’t.

“Why are you so upset?” He asks out of the blue stepping into the room.

I ignore his presence and proceed to undo my hair from the braid ruffling them and the proceed to undo my dress, quite aware of Roman watching me intently.

“Does it have to do with Ariel or your negative pregnancy?”

“You think I am upset because I am not pregnant?” I ask in disbelief turning to face the sexy bastard looking back at me.

He raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t want a kid, Roman.” I say. “Not now, not ever.”

He nods. “Then why are you upset?”

“I am not.” I say turning to face the dressing table mirror once again and unhook my bra. “Why would you even gauge that?”

“You look upset, you’re not jumping on my bones yet, you’re yet to make a mouthy remark about everything, so I conquer that you’re upset.”

This cunt.

“Why do you make of your business about conquering everything about me?” I ask. “You want me spread my legs for you? Okay. Let’s do it.”

“You sound upset to me.”

“What’s it to you?” I yell, years threatening to leave me eye.

Damn fuck! Why am I so emotional?

“Stop acting about all this- like you care. You don’t!” I yell. “You don’t care, Roman.”

“I don’t.” He says walking toward me. “I don’t care, Blaire. Go do whatever the fuck you want- “

He took powerful and long strides toward me and I was pressed against the dressing table, my panties only hiding my shame from his eyes.

“But when you’re with me, in my presence you keep that mouth is control, I endure your sarcastic remarks but won’t endure any kind of disrespect thrown at me.” He says. “Are we fucking clear?”

I don’t answer.

I was too angry, too emotional and too much upset of everything.

Is it the hormone imbalance or whatever the doctor said?

Fuck I hate this.

Roman grabs my jaw firmly and makes me look at him. “Are we clear?”

“Yes.” I whisper almost ready to cry. “We’re clear.”

And I never cry.

But Blaire feels emotional tonight.

Blaire needs some affection.

“Good.” Roman grits out. “Now I’d very much like to fuck you.”

That’s it.

I loose whatever was left of my composure and cry.

I Hide my face using both of my hands and cry, my chest heaving with each sob that leaves my body.

“Blaire?” Roman asks flabbergasted.

“Hey.” He asks equally rudely as he tries to pull my hands away from my face.

“Why the fuck are you crying?” He asks as if almost annoyed. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t answer him.

I don’t know what to answer him because I don’t know what is wrong with me.

I am not usually like this.

Is this an anxiety episode rushing  through me that I can’t even fathom.

I heard sometimes anxiety episode comes but you can’t even tell.

Oh, Blaire, stop thinking. I scold myself mentally as I feel Roman’s hands on me and he’s picking me up.

He walks to somewhere and lays me down on the bed.

I pull my hands away from my eyes and grab the coverlet pulling to hide my breasts.

Fucking stupid, Blaire. I scold.

Stop crying, you little shit.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with that mad head of yours or what?” He asks positively annoyed.

“Shut up.” I sniff.

“You were a gone case from the start.” He says. I can imagine an eye roll.

“Snuggle me.” I demand without looking at me.

Like I said, Blaire needs some affection.

Just for the night.

I’ll be back to my own self tomorrow morning. I think.

Yes.

Just tonight.

“You want me to snuggle you, puppy?” Roman asks a mocking tone grabbing the edge of his voice. “Poor puppy, do you need some flowers and gifts too.”

“Forget it.” I snap. “Fuck off.”

Roman chuckles. “I’ll see you in the morning, get some sleep.”

“We’re not gonna-” I ask turning my head to see him get up from the bed.

My eyes now dry and I feel relatively myself.

What’s with these changes?

What’s wrong with me?

I need to talk to Ariel. I think.

“You want me to fuck you, puppy!” He raises an eyebrow. “I thought you wanted some cuddles and flowers?”

“I hate you.” I snap. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“Feeling’s mutual.” He says but his eyes  snap at my naked body lying in the bed.

I turn to face him some more, and sensually pull the coverlet away from my tits.

Roman grabs my arm abruptly tugging till he has me laying on the bed horizontally and positions himself at my entrance, undoing his fly freeing his erection and pulls my panties to the side as he pushes himself inside without a warning, making me cry out, throw my head back and arch my myself up, full and needy

“Is this what you wanted?” He groaned leaning down to place kisses along the length of my neck.

My arms go around his neck as he fucks me, after I get accustomed to his length, hard and fast.

No other words apart from moans and groans exchanged between us, as he drives me hard and fast toward my climax, he fucks me through my organs driving himself toward his as he finishes himself inside me, body dropping full weight on top of catching his breath.

“Urgh!” I groan. “Get off, you’re heavy.”

Roman chuckles getting off, of me and pulls himself out with a pop leaving me empty for the rest of the night.

I know there will be no round two because as soon as he zips up his fly his phone rings.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” He says with a chaste kiss on my cheek and leaves.

“DiMariano.” He answers as he walks out of the room to wherever.

Sighing I lay myself down in the bed properly and snuggle the duvet.

Blaire isn’t getting any affection tonight. I think as I loose myself to sleep.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

This chapter, I thought I’d show y’all a different, emotionally distraught side of Blaire. I dunno if it feels rushed. Sorry.

I’ll be back to fix the typos.

Questions:

comedy or romance?

-November.

21

Note:

I changed Roman’s ex- fiancé’s name from Eleanora to Maria. If you’re confused re read the prologue please.

---

.

Blaire wasn’t up even by ten thirty next morning, so I had a lone breakfast that the maid served and was sipping on my coffee and debated on calling Angelo in my head.

That bastard managed to get on the Greek gangs hit list the moment he set his foot on the islands.

I could shoot him for his carelessness but nothing in this world could prove that I wasn’t worried about my brother.

Angelo meant to me more than my blood.

Angelo was the shoulder to my head and it made me fucking angry that the bastard got shot and slumped down for three days, bulb out from the operation.

I was on my last nerve to vet the jet ready and fly to Greece.

I hadn’t disclosed to matter to anybody else but papa and Lorenzo, Alyssa’s long term boyfriend.

Both, I trust to keep a close mouth for the sake of the family.

Mama and mama Alyssa would be paranoid from the danger that looms over Angelo’s head. They’d be demanding a first flight to Greece. I barely could send them to Rome for fucks sake.

The women in this family drove me mad.

I was yet to tall Ariel, her personal guard, Alberto Ricci kept me and updated on what she was doing.

Angelo was adamant on not letting Ariel be aware of the situation, his contact with the whole family was disconnected apart from me and Alberto.

I called him, because I needed to know how the bastard was doing for fucks sake.

“Boss.” He answered on the last ring, sounding groggy from sleep.

“Did I wake you?” I asked twirling the circular paper weight on my office desk.

“No.” He groaned. “Leonidas had some nurse sedate me. I’ve been out for almost ten hours.”

I nodded.

“How are you healing brother?” I asked the concern clear on my voice.

“Rather good, I’d say.” He groans and I head the shuffling of blankets on the other end. “It’s good that you called, I have that lunch with Richardson.”

That’s landed you shot and almost dead in the first place. I think mentally.

“Are you going to meet Signore Richardson?”

“And his pathetic little family.” He adds. “I would do anything to get out of this filthy useless fucking meeting, Roman.”

I chuckle.

“Are you negotiating further advancement with Leonidas?” I asked.

“Sí.” He replied. “I am, we’re talking about it, Leonidas seems real- aggressive? Tensed, can’t quite place what’s wrong with the cunt, honestly.”

“He’s getting married is supposed to get real aggressive.” I reply before Angelo finishes. “And you know as well as I that Cassandra is not a damsel in fucking distress like she portrays to be, she’s a cunning vixen ready to pounce.”

“Nothing of your and I’s view change the deal that’s been sealed.” He replies. “Do I wish our friend gets out of this mess? Sí. But I also wish that Leonidas at least gives Cassandra a chance to flourish-”

“I didn’t know you liked yourself balls deep in blondes.” I say. “You prefer rather small in size, pink haired little minx.”

“Roman, I don’t like Cassandra if that’s what you’re implying.” Angelo sighs. “I’ve met her, she seems genuinely in love with Leonidas-”

“And you’d know a lot about being in love.” I scoff from my end.

Love don’t do shit when money runs the world.

Love becomes a facade when all you can see and smell is money, power, stature, class.

I would know.

I was in love.

“Fuck this.” Angelo sighs. “Ferragamo or Testoni?”

“Testoni.” I reply.

“Yeah, I rather like Testoni too.”

“Who are you talking to?” I hear a groggy voice.

“Ti richiamo più tardi.” I say to Angelo before disconnecting the phone.

(I’ll call you later.)

But Blaire already knew.

“It was Angelo wasn’t it?” She snaps. “What a bastard. He can call you to talk about pasta and he can’t call Ariel? Or pick up my Bubble’s phone?”

I roll my eyes and try to ignore her existence.

Which is a bit hard at this moment, given that her body is donned with a silken rode that falls to her ankles the font undone, covering her tits but every other thing, a perfect visual for me.

“Roman!” Blaire yells making me look up at her bored and lazy.

“Sí, cucciolo?” I ask. “Is there something you wanted?”

“I asked why can he call you and not answer Ariel’s phone calls?”

“Because Angelo Giovanni is only answerable to me.” I say. “Nobody else.”

“Hah-hah.” She mocks with an eye roll. “Keep your big bad mafia image to your self. Angelo Giovanni is damn right answerable to my Bubbles for her agony and anxiety and fear.”

I don’t pay heed to her bickering.

She’ll shut up on her own.

Or I’ll fuck her to shut her up.

The later usually works.

She gets tired and so her mouth gets shut down for a while.

“Then Angelo will explain, don’t make a hoax.”

Blaire scoffs. “You’re so insensitive.”

“Angelo’s is hurt, Blaire.” I volunteer. “Angelo was caught in a highway shot out arranged to end my Capo Bastone.”

She looks stunned.

“The reason why he isn’t answering your Bubbles’ phone is because that will put her in a danger hotspot and unlike me, Ariel isn’t trained to kill on sight.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Blaire says after a while. “Is he doing okay?”

“He’s is underground. Hiding. Our friend is keeping him hidden.”

Blaire nods crossing her arms over her chest.

“Well I hope he gets here soon-”

“You’re not allowed to disclose that information to anyone, not Ariel, not mama or mama Alyssa. None. Clear?”

She nods. “Then why would he contact you, if it’s that serious?”

“Because I am his boss.” I reply.

Because I am his brother. I mentally correct myself.

“Ariel needs more security.” She says with finality pushing herself away from the doorway and walking inside the office room, taking a seat in the visitor’s chair.

“That’ll attract more attention to her.” I add. “Why’s a dancer so important to the DiMariano family that she gets elite security?”

“Then make security invisible, Roman.” She says placing her hand on the table top. “I want more security on Ariel.”

“Puppy, you sure are talking big.” I say leaning against the backrest of my office chair, eyebrow raised at her. “Do you need to be remained who are you talking to?”

“I am talking you Don Roman.” She says, confidently. “Make. Security. Double. And. Invisible.”

I smirk.

Done that, puppy.

I’ve already done that.

“You think I became a mob boss sniffing around the air for people’s advice?” I ask.

It drops her off guard.

“I already did that, Blaire.” I say impassively. “Ariel’s safety on Angelo’s absence is my priority.”

“Oh.” She sounds embarrassed. “Oh, well, that’s nice.”

I nod. “Anything else you want to draw my attention to?”

Blaire pretends to think for a moment.

“Maybe myself.” She says leaning back against the backrest of the chair.

“What about yourself?” I ask.

“You left me unsatisfied last night.” She whispers getting off her  hair and walking over to me in the other side of the desk. “It was a small ending.”

I raise my eyebrow.

“And what do you suppose I owe you for that?” I ask, index finger tapping my lips, pretending to think.

Blaire giggles softly, shrugging off her silken robe, standing before me, naked. Without a shame.

“I say you owe me one damn good fuck, Don Roman.” She says.

“Every fuck is a damn good fuck.” I say leaning back. “Or am I living down your expectation?”

She shakes her head, wedding her slender body between me and the desk.

“Are you going to fuck me over the desk, Roman?” She whispers.

And there she was last night, crying and then having bipolar attacks for God knows what reason.

“I don’t know.” I say. “Do you want to be fucked over the desk, Blaire?”

She doesn’t answer verbally.

Blaire, for a first timer, had a lot of libido.

I am not complaining. There is nothing to complain about.

Blaire could go over and over through the whole might without so much of ‘I can’t take it’

She couldn’t however take it slow.

I suppose it made her feel too much.

In the head.

Instead of replying to me, she shrugs off her robe, letting it fall on the Persian carpet.

And so Blaire ends up in her back, on top of the desk, my dick buried in her hot wet cunt, clutching like her life depended on whatever I had to give.

“Roman.” She whispered when my head dipped on the crook of her neck, lips teasing her sensitive flesh, leaving a trail of wet kisses to her chest.

“Oh, Lord!” She mewls as my mouth circle around her stoned nipple, tongue caressing the sensitive flesh, cock inside her. Still.

Blaire goes mad when I fuck her slow, she wants it fast, but the fun is to fuck my little puppy so slow that she looses her sanity.

“Fucking move.” She orders her head hitting the desk top with an almost inaudible thud as her hands around my neck, plays with my hair, my mouth still pleasuring her rosebud ripples.

I use my hand to knead her free breast, tug and twist the taut nipple between my fingers while my mouth keeps latched on yo the other as I rotate my hips to give her some barely there friction.

It earns a cry of want from her chest as she raises her hip to gain more but I pin her waist down pulling away from her delicious nipple.

“Roman.” She cries, her hands falling to my chest as I pull put of her heat, my cock throbbing and slam back inside her warm cunt.

She scoots a little bit away, I grab her thighs pushing them apart and pushing then up till she has them bend and her pussy is more exposed, giving me access to more depth.

“You want me to fuck you, puppy?” I whisper huskily driving my cock back into her. “Yeah? Is that what you want, Blaire?”

“Jesus, fuck.” She curses as I pick up my pace. “Yes, fuck, Roman.”

I smirk as I drove myself home with every push I see her eyes rolling back, her head trashing, nails digging into her skin as she holds her thighs in place.

My knuckles turn white from the tremendous orgasm building inside me ad I brace my self against the edge of the table, fucking Blaire with every ounce of need I had.

She was a warm fountain of sensuality and I couldn’t get enough of her.

“Fuck, Roman.” She cried lifting off her hips from the table top, resting my thrust with a pace of her own. “I’m close.”

“Hold it.” I rasp. “Don’t cum.”

“Jesus, Fuck.” She cries her head trashing she really tries to hold her orgasm, but I feel her muscles tightening around my girth, ready to milk it and fill her up.

“Roman-” Blaire cries. “Oh God!”

Her pussy clenches and throbs as I fuck her with mean strokes, hard, fast, deeper with every push.

“Cum for me, Blaire.” I hiss knowing she can’t hold it in.

“Oh!” She whimpers as I drive my dick deep inside her, the familiar quivering taking over her body and she shakes from her orgasm, I keep going on, taking her through her climax, bringing her to the edge of another one, when I feel myself jerk and explode inside of her sweet cunt.

Groaning, I keep pushing inside and pulling out sloppily feeling her with my arousal, Blaire takes every bit of me with her eyes closed and .south open in a silent moan.

The most beautiful she looked is right now, when I was dome fucking her, emptying myself inside her, with her eyes closed, mouth open, as if euphoria is washing over her.

I take a moment to grab my breath before pulling put of her and tucking my dick back into my pants, reminding myself that a shower is in order.

Blaire takes some more moment to recover and open her blue eyes, smiling lazily at me like a cat and sitting up.

“So what happened to you last night?” I asked taking my seat back on the office chair. “Why did you have a mental episode?”

“Awe?” She pouts. “Why Roman? Do you want to buy me flowers and gifts?”

What a cunning little minx.

“Whatever creams your cunt, Blaire.” I reply impassive turning toward my computer resuming reading the document I was.

“You cream my cunt.” She said, her feeds resting on my thigh.

“I felt simply emotional.” Blaire volunteers. “There is nothing wrong with me, if that’s what you think.”

“Yeah?” I ask half interested. “Well, are you normal now?”

“Yeah.” She agrees. “I feel good, though I could kill for she food, but who’s watching.”

I nod.

Half of the time, I can’t even make sense what she’s talking out.

“Who’s that?” She asks abruptly, her hand going toward a number of photo frames decorating my desk corner, picking out a rather golden one.

I seize the frame from her hand put it on my top drawer.

“Why are you so triggered, Jesus. Just asked who she was, didn’t say I wanted to fucking shag her, Lord!” She rolls her eyes.

I don’t reply to her.

“Who is that anyway?” She asks again. “She looks beautiful.”

I wish she’d just stay quiet.

“I thought you wanted food.” I change the topic.

“Oh Jesus, I do.” She says jumping down from the desk. “I’ll go see if there’s something to eat.”

I nod.

After Blaire leaves I pull open my drawer and look at the photograph engird on the frame.

Her luscious long brown her, lovely eyes, gentle smile graving her beautiful face as she looks at the camera. The ocean behind her as she sits cross legged on the sand.

I remember that day way more clearer then I should.

Maria was upset the whole day that day, she looked torn, sad, dishevelled alovehoppy when she came to meet me for our late lunch.

She wouldn’t talk much or be her usual lovely self.

So I took her to the beach, prepared the beach cabin for the weekend.

It was that day after our beach date, I felt more in love with her.

I thought it took just a look of the ocean to bring that lovely smile back to her gorgeous face, the relaxation to her Aphrodite like body.

And then I remember the night when she so brutally betrayed me and my love.

Closing my eyes I tried to imagine what would it be if she were alive.

We’d be married by now, maybe she’d be expecting or maybe we would already have little monsters running about and maybe she would still keep selling me.

I placed the photograph back on the drawer and slammed the drawer shut.

Some time ago, I wouldn’t be able to imagine or think about a life or future with out Maria.

She was my lifeline, my everything.

And she ruined it all.

For money.

Why was this picture here even after three years?

Maybe because I don’t reside here as much as I used to so I didn’t declutter.

Or didn’t want to declutter.

Anyway, the picture don’t belong here anymore.

Nothing of hers belongs here anymore.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

double updates!!? Anyways I’ll be back for the typos and make sure to comments and vote. Comment a lot. A lot!

Questions:

Stuffed toy or crochet toy?

-November.

22

P

Roman and I shared a meal that night.

Just a meal. We had dinner while he wanted wine with his lamb dish, I settled for iced water.

I’ve rarely had lamb before but this one was just singer licking good.

He talked to Angelo over the phone for a while before disconnecting the call, making some more, tapping away some message and that’s when I finally had it.

“Can you put your phone down?” I asked, my left palm cupping my neck while the elbow rests on the table and I was looking at my plate while I worked with my fork.

He didn’t listen to me.

And then again he never does.

I waited a minute or two more waiting for him to put his phone down but he was still tapping away.

“Roman.” I cleared my throat.

He looked at me with an eyebrow raised up, his dinner barely eaten, almost as if he forgot about the damn food.

“Can you put the phone down?” I ask. “You’ve been at it since dinner.”

He places it face down. “Why puppy, would you rather I pay attention to you?”

“Ha. Ha.” I mocked rolling my eyes.

“Pay attention to that damn food, Roman. You phone won’t keep you from hunger.” I add.

He smirks picking up his fork and working on the lamb meat.

“I think, I should go see Ariel.” I say out of the blue, missing my best friend, even though I just saw her yesterday

Plus I need some smuggles to chase my unhappiness away.

I really miss going at the club.

Now that I think, I liked the attention that I got from shaking my barely there tushie.

I should start working out to plump that arse.

“You saw her yesterday.” He says. “It’s not safe, you going to her and coming back to me. It’ll cause her danger.”

“She’s lonely, Roman.” I say looking up at him, no expression given, he just eats looking at his plate.

“She needs people around her or she’ll have an episode.”

“She’ll be fine.” Roman says. “Ariel is mentally capable of handling herself, Blaire.”

“You needn’t worry.” He adds.

“But I can’t help but worry.” I say. “She’s my friend.”

Roman looks up at me. “Stop talking, eat and go to bed, I know what I am doing.”

“Fuck you.” I say rolling my eyes. “Whatever. If I can’t go to Ariel she comes to me.”

Roman stays silent.

“Can you call her personal guard and tell him to bring her over as early as possible tomorrow?” I ask. “She could use some sun.”

“No.” Roman replies. “There are almost fifty guard positioned at the pent house and the second Ariel gets out of that fucking apartment, there is a danger sign stamped on her head.”

“You’re a coward.” I spat. “Why can’t you have the guard follow her?”

That’ll raise suspicion. I think to myself

What about the girl almost living the life of a fucking prisoner inside that house?

What about her fucking  health?

My Bubbles, usually flushed and bubbly, was now pale and looked like someone who could use a nap for some hours. Or some days rather.

She as far as I think even lost weight.

The absence and lack of contact with Angelo was troubling her deeply. I could tell.

And no matter how much she claims to hate him or denies that she likes him doesn’t change the fact that Angelo it a total of for my Bubbles.

“What do you think I’ll answer to my brother of anything happens to Ariel?” He snaps back getting up from the table abruptly.

Selfish. I think mentally.

Even here, he’s thinking what would he say to Angelo if anything happens to her.

What a selfish prick.

“What would you say to Angelo if you find her out from pain meds?” I yell.

“Fuck this.” He sighs dropping his napkin on the table and walking away.

“Yeah, it’s better if you walk away.” I whisper under my breath.

At least I wouldn’t hurl my glass at him if he walks away because God knows I just might.

I just might hurl the mother fucking glass at his goddamn head!

Angry and mad, I finish my dinner, swipe some veggies from the bastards plate and go back to my room after draining my water.

I get ready in my sleep wear ready to sleep my anger off when I get a knock on the door.

I turn to see Roman leaning against the doorway. His phone in his hand.

“What do you want?” I ask unfolding a blanket and spreading it in the bed.

“Mama wants to talk to you.” He announces pushing himself off the doorframe and walking inside.

I get under the covers before Roman hands me his phone, which has Donna Coralyn on video call.

She waits patiently with a smile on her pretty face as I get comfortable on the bed.

“Hey.” I said tucking a loose stand of my hair behind my ear. “How are you?”

“I am okay.” She says shrugging her slender shoulders. “How’s you?”

“I am fine.” I smile.

“Did you get Ariel her gifts?” She asks with a pout.

“I did.” I agree. “She loved them. The stuffie, she loves it a lot.”

She nods. “I didn’t know what to get her.”

“She loves them.” I reassure. “Are you enjoying Rome?”

I hear Rome is beautiful.

I wanna go go Rome.

She nods. “It’s fun. I get to go to work now, so I am busy all day-”

I can’t help but wonder what she does.

She never likes working or doing anything.

She just mindlessly walks around the house, makes daisy chains in the garden putting them round her ankles and wrists some time around her head and what not.

“You went to work?” I ask teasingly. “I didn’t know you work.”

“Why? Did you think, all I do is mindlessly walk around?” She says with a small eye roll. “Are you taking care of my bubba?”

Her question makes me crinkle my nose in an expression that said, are you for real?“

“That was a stupid question.” She mumbles. “Anyway- how was your day?”

“It was good.” I reply.

I woke up, shagged your son, then shagged him again after breakfast and then shagged him again after lunch and fought while having dinner.

Pretty boring I’d say.

“I had fun today.” She says. “We went for a picnic and swam for a while. We just got back.”

“Awe, that’s lovely, boo.” I say with a pout.

“Hm.” She nods. “I miss you guys.” She adds. “There is nobody here in this wretched manor and it’s scary and I dun wanna stay here anymore.”

“Sound like a brat you do, ma.” Roman pipes up from beside me.

I had no idea he was sitting there so I turn the phone so she can see her bubba’s face.

“I sound like a brat?” She gasps. “I’m the most grateful person you’ll ever find in this world.” She snaps.

“I’m such a good person, Roman.” She says, I imagine doing her an eye roll. “Such a perfect person.”

Damn, a brat alright.

“Whatever you say, ma.” Roman smiles. “Why aren’t you sleeping yet? It’s past bedtime.”

I don’t think I’ve ever seen him smile.

When he does, the corner of his eyes crinkles and he looks almost ten years younger.

“Your papa is showering so I thought, I would see Blaire’s face for a while.” She says. “And then I’ll go to sleep, when papa gets out.”

Roman nods. “Did you take your vitamins and irons?”

“Yes!” She shrieks. “Disgusting, won’t go down my throat- but, when can we come back?”

“As soon as Angelo gets home.” Roman says taking the phone from my hand and leaning back against the headrest. “Did you talk to mama Alyssa?”

I also love how he calls Alyssa, mama too, because it’s so sweet.

Because God Knows I’d want Ariel’s little monster to call me mama, too, given that I don’t want one of my own-

I’ll just have fun with hers and tell people that’s it’s mine when I am in a good mood or feel like a mummy.

We can play dress up too.

I crinkle up my nose at the thought going over my head.

The pregnancy scare really took a toll over me, ey?

“I talked to biscuit.” She said and paused for awhile. “Gotta go, daddy’s back. Ta-ta.” She added quickly and breathlessly.

“Bye, mama.” Roman chuckles.

“Bye, Blaire!” She shrieks from the other end.

“Bye!” I sing song.

Chuckling Roman pockets his phone getting up from the comfortable position he was on the bed.

“I can’t really put my head if you show the real you in front of your mother or you just act cute?”

“Act cute?” He scoffs, buttoning his suit jacket.

I shrug.

“I love my mother, Blaire” He declares.

Well maybe his cute aide fucks with his big bad mafia image.

I shake my head, stretching my hand over my head. “Honestly, when can I go back to the club?”

“Whenever I feel like.” He says.

“Don’t be so crusty.” I say rolling my eyes. “I miss the club, I miss seeing people, I miss-”

The attention.

I wanted to say.

It was rare that Roman was present at the suite all day.

All of these weeks, its just been today and a day before this and honestly, without him, I barely see one person, in this fucking place.

It drives me mad.

All I do is eat and watch trashy TV.

“Come on, Roman.” I say.

“I just told you that a hit was organised on Angelo’s head for fucks sake.” He says, his eyes say he’s annoyed with me.

“And now you want to go back to the club? Do you have a fucking death wish?”

“Fuck, this.” I mutter. “This place feels like a goddamn prison. I barely see anybody but your mug, that too on calculated hours.”

“Blaire.” He sighs. “Understand this, that the present time is dangerous-”

“Angelo is in Greece.” I argue. “We’re in Italy. If there is a danger over Angelo, that is in Greece-”

“I sometimes debate that if you can’t understand me or just ignorant.” He says.

“Angelo being in danger puts me in danger and being with me puts you in danger just like it puts mama and Ariel and every other goddamn people closely associated with me in fucking, danger.”

I roll my eyes.

“So fucking stay put.” He points a finger at me. “And be thankful.”

“Like you’ve done a lot of thing for me to thankful about.” I hiss. “Huh?”

He raises an eyebrow asking if I was for real.

“You’re ungrateful, Blaire.” He declared. “Plain ungrateful-”

“Oh, I am ungrateful?” I shout. “Me? You’re an asshole, you bastard, you kidnapped me, you made me work as a fucking stripper and you’ve been fucking me with out any emotional connection or whatsoever and I am ungrateful, name one thing you’ve done for me that tells me I should be grateful to you, Roman!”

“You think every person, I wipe off the map ends up on my bed?” He asks, going back to his composed self. “I don’t fuck around with delinquents but I suppose you were one of those decisions that fucked me up, in the first place.”

Fucked him up in the first place?

Way to make me feel spacial, Roman. I think mentally.

“Way to put it out, Roman-” I say.

“I’ve had to kill because of your stupid act, that melted my firewall.” He says. “I’ve had to clean up after your mess, I’ve had business loss worth of ten million dollars, for your fucking childishness.”

I look at him fiercely through tear stained eyes.

“You don’t get to sit around and tell me what to do.” He says. “Know your place, act like it.”

“You owe me your life, and I fucking own you, Blaire.” He adds.

“You’re so heartless-” I whisper trying so had to keep the tears in so they don’t slip on my cheeks.

Cause I don’t want to cry.

Blaire doesn’t cry.

And Blaire won’t cry for this fucking asshole.

He doesn’t deserve it.

He deserves nothing being as cold, and insensitive and stone like as he is.

He especially doesn’t deserve my tears.

“I am not heartless, Blaire.” He says. “If I was, you would be in my dungeons till death was an escape illusion.”

And he leaves.

I throw the pillow at the door, the direction he just left in, stupid cries vibrating out of my chest for stupid reasons.

I hate being like this.

I hate this.

I hate this place.

I hate Roman-

Not really.

I just want to go back to the estate or just want somebody around so I stop having these paranoid episodes for whatever fuck the reason.

It’s out of my understanding.

Sniffling, I lay down in the bed, curled up with the blanket over me.

But sleep was not an escape.

It wouldn’t come.

I twist and turn desperate to find a comfortable spot on the bed while I angrily wipe away my tears from my eyes and wipe my snooty nose with the back of my hand.

Yes, I am petty. Shove off.

But I can’t really sleep no matter how much I try.

I try imagining stupid scenarios in my head. I try the breathing exercise but nothing works.

The wind gushes inside through the crack of the bay window, but the blinds were drawn, white silks and lace-

I squint to look at the window.

I was pretty damn sure I closed that mother fucker. I think mentally, halting my breath.

But then I see something.

Or I think I see something because a shadow plays out on the curtains.

Fucking hell, mate. I think as I scamper down from the bed, grabbing the glass water pitcher fr the bedside table, gulping down in my own saliva.

Oh, so much protection we are under, Roman. I mentally think.

“So much protected.” I repeat in a whisper.

The shadow moves again.

“Who’s there?” I yell into the silence.

“Hey!” I shout again. “Who’s there?” I add moving toward the window, the shadow has disappeared.

“Who the fuck you playing, you fucking asshole!” I scream as I rip the blinds away from the window and hear the door of the bedroom jiggle open.

“Blaire?” Roman’s rough voice pierces through the silence of the bedroom.

“There was somebody here.” I say squinting at the thin sunshade, separating this floor from the floor below.

“What do you mean?” I hear his footsteps as he stands beside me, watching whatever I was intently.

A set of mountain climber robe rests on the surface along with duct tape.

“Bitch.” I cussed.

“I suppose you want to go back to the club, sí?” Roman mocked. “How does tomorrow night sound, puppy?”

“Very funny, asshole.” I snap crossing my arms over my chest. “How did the son of bastard even get up here?” I add looking down, counting ten floor beneath us.

Roman was by the time I finished my sentence spitting orders in his spaghetti language so I focused on the scene.

There is no way he could climb up ten floors and then disappear within a blink if an eye.

No way.

He was supposed to be here, somewhere.

“He’s still here, Roman.” I said tugging on his shirt sleeve.

Roman gave me a mean look.

“There is no way he can climb down ten floors, so chance is he jumped or he’s hiding. If he jumped-”

“He’d be dead but you’d hear a pathetic sound, so he didn’t and so he’s hiding and so my men are already on it.” He finishes it for me.

Smart. I say mentally but roll my eyes.

“Seems like you have to vacate.” He says out of the blue, and grabs my hand. “Soldiers will be here for a thorough examination, while the inn is being searched.”

Roman pulls me into the glass enclosed room. There was paper work in neat piles all over the bed, his sleek laptop on the bed with the screen lit.

“Make yourself some room.” He says. “I have to work.”

I shrug walking to the made side of the bed and slipping inside the silk covers.

Roman pushed a button and out of blue from the ceiling blinds dropped on the three glass walls covering us from the outside world.

When creepy turns fancy.

“Can you at least get me my blanket?” I ask, as Roman was about go claim his seat back on the bed.

I heard several footsteps inside the suite.

Roman grabbed me a blanket and I covered myself with that.

His side was still lit by his laptop screen, him occasionally talking on the phone and the bedside lamp.

I think it’s an hour or two later when he puts the papers and laptop away and walks into the shower and twenty minutes later, I feel the bed dip, my eyes closed the whole time.

Roman’s phone rings.

“Papa?” He answers talking in Italian which I neither understated nor can keep up to.

So I close my eyes and try to fall into my world of dream.

And sometime later, I do.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Okay, um- I am updating this on a regular basis until we catch up with Angelo and Ariel’s story timeline.

And then I’ll try to update theirs. If you haven’t read it already please do. It’s called, “

The Under Boss’s Ballerina

“ and it’s book

two

in the

MOB BOSS SERIES

.

Show the book some support it’s too close to my heart😭

Questions:

Name one book you can read over and over again? (Not wattpad)

-Mines is,

Without Merit

by Colleen Hoover. I dunno what’s about that book but I’ve read it way too much times then I should. Lol

November.

23

I snapped awake, alert, only to hear my phone ringing on the bedside table.

Groaning I reached out for the phone, annoyed that even after working till late night I have to pick up a call.

Mama.

Jesus. I think and check the time.

“Mama.” I asked it was almost five o clock in the morning when her sniffling voice came through the speaker of my phone.

The small cries made me sit up alert and rigid.

“Mama?” I asked again. “Love, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Where’s papa?”

She sniffs again.

“Mummy.” I sigh. “Tell me what’s making you cry-”

“Is it true that the inn was attacked?” She mumbled.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I sigh, leaning my head back against the backrest of the bed. Blaire close beside me.

Sleeping.

Too close.

“Why won’t you tell me?” She snaps. “Why don’t you tell me anything!”

“Mama.” I say, trying to soothe her girlish reasons for worrying too much.

Honestly, sometimes she’s scared too much.

“What if the bad guys got you or something like that?” She asks in an angry admonishing tone. “And what about Blaire- poor thing, she must be scared. So scared.”

“I am fine mama. And Blaire is too.” I reassure.

“Are you with papa?” I ask trying to change the subject.

“Um-hm.” She says, her voice still sounding like tears falling from her eyes.

“Can you hand him the phone for me?” I ask.

“Why?” She snaps. “You talk to me, I called you!”

I hear dad chuckle from beside her.

“How did you know that the inn was attacked?” I ask.

You couldn’t call it an attack.

It was almost a felony.

But the reason was still unknown.

Nobody had any idea about Blaire, so an attack on her, personally seems irrational.

“Daddy didn’t tell me.” She says, defending him for no reason whatsoever. “I overheard.”

“Overheard?” I ask. “Now, what about listening to other’s conversation-”

She must have heard when it was being discussed in dad’s office at night right after I send the men with the news.

“I am your mother!” She shrieks. “Do not educate me, or I’ll whoop your bottom straight.”

I sigh.

“You’re not too old for a good whopping!”

I hear dad laugh.

Her threats of whopping was like kisses over my bruises, because my mother was a women who could never kill a fly, let alone whoop me.

I’ve always been the boy getting away with everything.

Dad was some what strict, mama was a total pampering queen.

I blame her for my inflated ego.

“Sure, ma.” I say with a smile on my face.

“Are you really okay, bubba?” She asks in a low voice. “I worry.”

“I am okay.” I reassure. “Are you okay?”

“I think.” She mumbles. “You wanna talk to your papa?”

“Sí.” I agree. “Would you hand him?”

“Okay, bubba.”

“I love you, ma.” I said, genuinely.

“I love you more then anything , bubba.”

“More then Adrian and Julian?” I ask teasingly.

“Uh-uh.” She agrees.

“Roman.” Dad answers in his sleep stained voice. “She woke you didn’t she? She’s been crying since she heard.” He sighs.

I nodded. “Did you get the thorough report?”

“Sí.” He answered. “I also talked to Angelo’s father, earlier tonight.”

“Okay.”

“He wants to hand him over the forty eight percent of his business.”

“Money can really buy love for those people, then.” I say with a sigh. “Or so they think.”

“Roman.” He warns.

I sighed.

“I’ll call you in the morning.” He says.

“Your mom fell asleep, in about five seconds.” He sighs.

“Sure.” I said and ended the call placing the device down on the bedside table.

“Is she okay?” I heard Blaire’s sleepy voice speak up from beside me.

“Fine.” I said laying down on my back, hands under my head.

“Was she worried?” She asks, shuffling closer to me, laying her head full of dark hair in my chest tentatively.

“Worried, scared, paranoid almost on the next train back here.” I say.

“Is she coming back?” Blaire asks. “You seem tensed.”

I sighed.

“She isn’t coming back. Not yet.”

“Why are you tensed?” She asked on soft voice, not her usually obnoxiously loud, mouthy voice.

She almost sounded sweet and caring.

“I am not.” I lie.

Blaire sighs, I feel her warm breath tickle my check and her hand drawing invisible pattern on my skin.

A part of my brain was activated into fight or flight mode. It kept saying make her move her fucking hand.

Because nobody got to touch me that way.

Nobody is allowed to touch me in a way that reminds me what it is like to have a constant being beside you, through thick and thin.

The other part, the more silent and non existent part of my brain told me to calm down and that of was okay, Roman.

It was okay, to let Blaire draw patterns on my chest, lay her head down where my heart was beating and sleep on my bed.

It kept telling me, it was okay and Blaire wasn’t here to sell me.

Or to do anything.

The silent part of my brain seldom says anything.

I closed my eyes, felt Blaire’s lips on my cheek, her lips leave a wet trail along the length of my jaw and rests on my stubble covered chin.

“You want to tell me what’s got you so worked up, Don Roman?” She whispers.

Her voice obscenely sexual.

I stay silent to her question, but she keeps going on, slowly, kissing my chin, gliding downy throat pausing at my Adam’s apple, using her tongue to taste my flesh, before I feel her slender body climb on top of me, sit astride my waist.

“Blaire.” I warn.

She’s stepping into unmarked territory.

This was not what was supposed to happen when the deal was just asexual fulfilment.

She’s coming back wanting more.

More then I feel capable of giving her.

“Roman.” She mirrors my voice, her warm palms resting on my naked chest.

“What are you doing?” I ask opening my eyes.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” She whispers. “That photograph on your desk.”

I look at her blue eyes, almost glowing in the darkness.

“Who is she?” She asks. “She’s not your mom, because they look nothing alike and she’s not Alyssa, so who’s she?”

None of your fucking business.

“That’s none of your business.” I say, whatever composure left me, coming back at a speed.

“Is she the one who turned you into stone?” She mocked.

“Still not your business, Blaire.” I said grabbing her hips and pushing her away from my body.

She landed on the bed, a look of confusion stretched over her features as I rip off the silks from my body and walk out of the bedroom.

My lungs feel normal and able to breathe when I stand in front the floor to ceiling bay windows of the living room, rummaging though the cabinet drawer, I retrieve an unopened pack of treasurer black and lit one up using a zippo walking back to the window watching the now grey sky stretched above Napoli.

Blaire was getting too much in the inside.

Or she was trying to get inside too much.

Or maybe it was happening naturally or whatever.

Fact was I was not fond of the mind games she kept playing on me or my mind kept playing on itself.

Taking a drag of the lit cigarette, I closed my eyes feeling the smoke travel to my lungs before coming back up as I exhaled through my nose.

Maria. Maria. Maria.

I kept chanting over my head.

Love was a one time thing.

At least to me it was. Too scared. Too holy.

It didn’t go ping pong from one women to another.

To me it didn’t.

With my eyes closes I could still picture the gorgeous women through my mind’s eyes.

As much as I find myself associated with Blaire outside sex, even some words exchanged between us, Maria’s image in my head gets fuzzier. More deformed.

The more I see of Blaire’s soft side, it feel as if, my memory of Maria was being pushed out of my mind.

With Maria’s death I was sure that my heart died with her.

Upon her death, I realised love was a luxury I was too poor to afford because her lack of love was what drove us to the land of living and dead in the first place.

Because God knows I loved her.

I fucking loved her enough to put everything one side and Maria to the other.

I am too poor to afford love and that will stay that way.

Or that’s how I want it to stay.

The idea of marriage without love was foreign but I knew better.

Soon I would turn thirty and therefore would have to be married, if I wanted or not.

Love didn’t matter but at this moment my family did.

An heir to this empire did.

I finish my cigarette and flick the unsmokeable bit out of the window. The sky slowly changing colors from grey to soft silver.

“Roman.” I hear a whisper, soft yet strong enough to gain my attention.

“Blaire.” I mirrored her tone, still looking out, aware of her footsteps padding across the marble floor and walking toward me.

“I never used to have sleeping issues.” She says crossing her arms over her chest.

“And your point is?” I ask bringing the packet of cigarette from my pajama pocket and lighting the second one.

“My point is, you’re emotionally exhausting.” She sighs.

“I’ve never asked for you to integrate yourself to me, emotionally.”

She chuckles. “Do you really not understand or that stone cold wall you’ve build around yourself is really getting inside of you?”

I don’t answer her.

I am not answerable to her.

“Why are you like this, Roman?” She asks. “Why? I’ve never met a person who tires me out mentally like you do.”

“And yet asking for answers about a women’s photograph on your desk triggers you when human brain on your floor doesn’t.”

“Her name was Maria.” I volunteer taking a drag from the cigarette.

“Oh, well.” She chuckles, not expecting the information I gave her.

“Was she like somebody you liked-”

“I loved her.” I clarify.

And yet, why am I telling this to the unhinged, mouthy Blaire who is unable to gauge any seriousness of any situation?

I need to talk to Angelo.

“Oh-” She sounds rocky, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s- that’s nice.”

I dragged another puff of the cigarette draining it completely.

I need some whisky, scotch- any fucking thing.

I don’t like this unwanted pressure on my chest.

“What- what happened?” She asks as if she is nervous and dreading what’s about to be my answer.

“She’s dead.” I say without a layer of sugar on my confession.

“Well-” she sighs, her hands dropping on her sides as she fumbles with her fingers. “I am sorry to hear that.”

We stand in silence watch as the sun rises over Napoli, bathing it with the golden light of a new dawn washing away the sins of the night.

“Do you fancy an early breakfast?” She asks nervously.

I never knew Blaire could be nervous .

I nod my head ethereally, thinking back that I didn’t get to enjoy the lamb ribs, as much as I would like.

“I didn’t know you could cook.” I say.

Blaire laughs walking away and toward the kitchen. “I can make you a mean English breakfast.”

I stand before the window for some while longer smoking a third cigarette until the smell of sizzling bacon tickles my nose.

I walk toward the dining room joined to the kitchen and watch Blaire move around, from the stove to fridge, turning the bacon and pulling out the toast from the toaster as she places her home cooked breakfast into two plates.

I watch her for a while, dressed in an ankle length robe, black hair untamed as she tucks it behind her ears ever now and then as she works on the poached eggs, puts sausages and tomato on the frying pan and adds ladle full of cooked beans on the plate.

Quite admirable when she is quiet, to be honest.

Quite lovely too.

I push myself away from the column in was leaning against and walk into the kitchen with a view to get myself some coffee.

“Coffee or Tea?” She asked turning to face me, in the blight lighting of the kitchen, her pale face was flushed to the cheeks.

“Coffee.” I said. “I’ll get it.”

She nods placing the done eggs on the plates as I use the electric cappuccino maker and add milk to the said compartment and place my cup under the station pressing the buttons.

“Would you make me one?” Blaire asks as she hears the machine chime indicating it’s working.

“Don’t you want breakfast tea?” I ask watching the machine fill the cup and add thickened milk on top of the coffee.

“To be honest, I’ve put a liking for coffee, these days.” She says with a guilty shrug. “Y’all Italians make it different.”

“How so?” I ask placing the cup in a saucer before adding a second up to the station and carry it Blaire.

She accepts the coffee from me.

Sleeplessness, evident in her features.

“I don’t know.” She shrugs her slender shoulder. “It’s sweeter here, or bitter- just different. I don’t know, really.”

I crack a barely there smile and collect my cup placing it into the saucer.

“I’ve had a hang of everything really.” She says placing her coffee on the table and adds the breakfast plates for me and her. “Even pasta, y’all can eat so much pasta-”

I chuckle shaking my head and claiming my seat.

“The beans are good.” I say putting another spoonful in my mouth.

“Why, thank you.” Blaire says fascinated. “I am flattered that my culinary skills astound you, Don Roman.”

Damn, she’s much more enjoyable and lovely when she’s silent. I think to myself.

“Do you have work?” She asks abruptly putting beans on her toasted bread.

I nod, working on the poached eggs. “I’ve got to be out early.” I say thinking about the missed discussion with dad.

Dad, Lorenzo and I have to sit down with Angelo over a video conference this morning about the new hotel and casino.

The bastard needs to get back to Italy as soon as possible. I think.

Alive.

Blaire nods.

“When does Angelo get back?” She asks.

“Soon.” I say not giving her the exact date.

She nods, once again.

We finish the rest of breakfast in silence, Blaire watches outside while she eats through the kitchen window.

Finishing my food, I place the plate on the sink and use a napkin to wipe my lips, Blaire stands next to me to place her plate on the sink after done with her food.

I watch as she busies herself to clear the counter, a barely there smile hanging on my lips.

Grabbing her arm, I pull her close to me, placing a kiss on the corner of her mouth, thumb tracing her succulent lower lip.

“Breakfast was lovely.” I whisper against her mouth.

She pulls her lips between her teeth and smilies.

“Thank you, Roman.” She says.

And those three words stay with me all day.

As much as I wouldn’t like to admit, they do stay with me.

A form of reassurance. A form of…affection.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Idk what y’all feel about this chapter. Lol. Whatever.

Question

:

Favourite TV show?

-November.

24

The next two days, I like to think we made progress.

Me and Roman that is.

Sleeping beside him, even though it was a safety measure was- good?

I like to think it was good.

I liked the warmth and reassurance of someone beside me.

I made him breakfast for three consecutive morning at a stretch, even though cooking repulses me to a point where I feel like I am fucking done with the kitchen and my life.

But I made him breakfast.

He made the coffee and we ate in silence.

Often Roman slipped this and that about what was going on.

Apparently the guy who Roman killed was an important member of a rival family who fucked with him and it was the rival family after him.

That still didn’t make sense why would the Greek attack Angelo.

“The Greeks are plain assholes .” Roman had said, dismissing the discussion.

I didn’t press him further about the matter because small things were triggering him without any logical explanation.

Nuter. I thought mentally.

We ate dinner of creamy steak fettuccine and shared red wine delivered by a maid from the hotel’s kitchen, tonight and then one thing led to the other, I ended up beneath Roman, a panting, moaning mess.

Many orgasms on my part later, I laid awake, sprawled on Roman’s chest, fingers tracing the taut muscle lines on his body as he held me to him with an arm around my shoulder.

I’d say progress.

Because Roman never stays after he was done filling his lungs with the lost air.

But tonight we laid on the same bed, caught our breath and stared at the almost reflective ceiling, in silence.

Only our breathing disrupting the calmness of the atmosphere.

“I’d have to be at the airport in sometime.” He says abruptly, his thumb brushing against my naked shoulder.

I raise my head up, resting my chin on his bare chest. “Oh?”

“Sí.” He says, his eyes still trained on thee ceiling.

“Angelo lands back tonight and he’ll be here first thing and the go back to his place.”

I nod. “He needs to be guarded?”

Roman nodded. “Sí.”

I nodded.

We laid in silence for more five minutes. Maybe six.

I don’t know.

But Roman got up, ripping the silk coverlet from his body and walked to the shower.

I heard the jet streams of the shower running a second later.

Getting on my back, I sighed.

If Angelo comes back, isn’t he supposed to go to Ariel first? Or his place?

I am sure whatever it is, to discuss about business or family could be done later.

Roman walks out of the shower almost a good fifteen minutes later, a black towel wrapped around his waist giving a peak of the V line of his hip bone as he walks toward the couch which had his grey suit laid out.

Without a mirror he dresses up and walks toward the nightstand of his side of the bed.

I prop myself up on an elbow and watch him put on his watch, tuck the pocket square into his breast pocket, pocket his cell phone, tuck two guns at the waist band of his slacks and spray the Clive Christian cologne at the collar of his shirt and both wrists.

“What?” He asks when he catches me looking at him like a certified creep.

“Nothing.” I reply, pulling the coverlet up to my chest and getting comfortable in the middle of the bed. “You smell nice.”

“It costs nice.” He retorts with a roll of his eye.

I ignore his snarky remark. “Isn’t Angelo supposed to go to Ariel first?” I ask.

“I have to see him myself first.” Roman says. “God knows I’ve been paranoid for the last three weeks even to breathe freely.”

“If I wasn’t really fucking you, I’d think you were gay.” I say rolling my eyes.  “I’ve been paranoid to breathe freely.” I mock his thick accent.

“Don’t talk, when your voice isn’t wanted.” He warns.

“Yeah.” I wave a hand dismissing him. “Whatever.”

Honestly, I’ve been living with this man for quite sometime and till now he doesn’t realize that his threats don’t work here.

“Angelo is more than blood and flesh to me.” He says.

“I’m alive because of that man’s backbone. There isn’t anything Angelo Giovanni wouldn’t do for me and there isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for the man.”

“Your big words make me dry, Roman.” I lie with an eye roll.

“I’ll kick him in the balls when he comes here.” I add. “Just so you know.”

“Whatever, Blaire.” He says leaning down and placing a kiss on my cheek. I get a whiff of his cologne before leaves the room.

His auction plasters a smile in my face for quite sometime.

I think I sleep for a while or maybe I don’t, maybe I was on the way to sleep when I hear a commotion in the living room.

It snaps me awake making me sit up straight in panic.

I grab the dress robe hanging from the headrest of the bed and shrug it on, getting down from the bed and walking over to the living room.

The men sit in the half circular couch, facing their back to me.

The pervasive smell of cigarettes and whisky dominating the air.

Oh well. I think to myself. It looks as if Capo Bestone is back.

In a piece. Alive .

“Al Capo Bestone.” One of the mam rose his glass of iced whisky.

(To Capo Bestone)

The rest of the man laughed and rose their glasses as a toast to the Capo Bestone.

Walking closer to the back of the half circular couch I find Angelo sitting beside Roman and another man.

His hair a bit longer giving him a rough yet weirdly composed look from the behind.

He was talking in spaghetti language so I didn’t catch anything apart from, hip bone, ribs, guns, crack head, Leonidas, the ducking cunt and that kind of gruesome word that made no sense whatsoever.

“Hey asshole.” I almost yell patting the Capo Bestone’s shoulder aggressively.

“Jesus.” Angelo winces cupping his shoulder and turns to me with a pained expression.

“What is wrong with your head, woman?” He hisses.

“Why are you here?” I ask crossing my arms over my chest, Roman looks at me like he’s done with me.

Yeah well he can wank his cock himself.

Angelo squints at me as if asking me if I was for real.

I recall our conversation over the phone a week back.

I could bet half a Kinsey of mine that he was fucking them Greek girls on his vacay-cay while my Bubbles was completely depresses and sad.

My poor Bubbles. I think.

“How are your Greek whores?” I ask. “All good? did you have fun fucking women with a flappy ass vagina? Did they suck you off good, aye?”

“What is wrong with you?” He snaps. “You need to get your brain checked for real.”

“Oh?” I place a hand on my chest mocking his Italian accent.

“If you’re done talking about  Greek versus Italian women hoo-haa size go back home to Ariel.” I add pointing a finger at him.

How dare this bastard comes back from a three week plus two days long trip and and parties with his little mafia friends instead of going back home to my Bubbles?

“Don’t tell me what to do, crackpot motherfucking women.” He mumbles turning back.

I punch his shoulder again and he winces.

“He’s hurt there, Blaire.” Roman yells. “What is wrong with you?”

“Why doesn’t he go back home to Ariel?” I ask, my voice raising.

“The poor thing has been sitting on that god forbidden apartment for three weeks and the first thing he does when he gets back is, party?” I add.

“This is not a party.” I hear Angelo his, his hand still on his shoulder. “Why are you hitting me?”

“Cause you made Ariel cry.” I snap. “I wanted to kick you in the nuts but Ariel might be sad about your broken nuts so I’ll stick with this!” I hit him on the shoulder again.

The other shoulder.

He doesn’t even budge.

“What an asshole.” I mumble rubbing my fist, because it fired back.

Well, looks like the Greeks didn’t get both his shoulders. Heh.

“Go to bed, Blaire.” Roman sighs shaking his head.

I narrow my eyes at him but he gives me the glare .

So I walk back to the room and get into the bed, angrily huffing as I occupy the middle of the massive king sized bed, and wait for the commotion die down outside the bedroom.

I wanna party if they are partying!

I want yo drink fucking forty eight thousand dollar worth bottle of whisky, too.

Why does Angelo the cunt gets to have fun and I get to send into the room like a delinquent child?

I hate Roman.

No, I do not. I correct myself.

I am rather fond of him these days.

He is coming out from the stone cold wall that he build around himself. Even a tiny bit.

I am glad that I am getting to see  the side of Roman that is not so Roman like but so like him at the same time.

When I first saw him on TV and news bulletin and other online sites, I found myself drawn to that chiseled jawline, that carved physique, those eyes.

But the more I get to see him, the more I want to see that part that hides behind the icy glare of those dark orbs.

The more time I spend with Roman, the more I want to know what makes those succulent lips smile.

What makes that iced heart race.

What turns that glare into a look of longing and need.

But whatever little he let’s out, the more mysterious he appears to me.

Whatever little he let’s out, makes me think somebody was solely responsible for him building a wall around himself so he doesn’t risk getting hurt again.

I am almost asleep, going toward the land of dreams when I feel the bed dip beside me, Roman’s cologne evade my senses.

“Sleeping?” He asks.

His breath smells of whisky and nicotine from the cigarettes.

I think I nod or maybe I do not, but I wiggle myself closer to him.

Roman wraps and arm around my shoulders as I rest my head on top of his beating heart, arm and leg thrown over his body, shuffling closer to that safe scent.

“Did the men leave?” I whisper still strained with sleep.

“Sí.” He responded. “They did.”

“Good.” I mumble.

At least Ariel would have a good night. I think.

She better have a good night.

I am deprived of the good old sex, but Blaire feels like cuddling tonight.

“Mama wants a family brunch tomorrow.” He says, his thumb brushing against my shoulder.

“Hmm?” I whisper. “Is she back?”

“No.” Roman says. “But they’ll be back tomorrow morning. Sleep.”

“Hmm.” I say and feel Romans lips on my cheek faintly before I loose my senses to the darkness.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

N o author’s note today, cause November don’t feel like it. Also I am sleepy so I’ma nap!!!

Questions:

One thing you’d like to ask me?

-November.

25

Brunch was a disastrous idea.

Or so I’d like to think.

I established that as soon as me and Roman stepped into the estate premises and a blonde came out of the blue wrapping herself around Roman and fell into a fit of giggles.

What am I, invisible?

I thought it was some distant cousin since Coralyn has almost honey golden hair but it was lot shade darker then hers

And a lot retro like that I felt jealous of.

But she turned out to be a friend who shook my hand with a sneer like expression as if I was filth on her Gucci handbag.

What a weirdo. I thought mentally as Roman, miss I am so blonde the sun gets scared of my golden-ness and I walk inside the estate house and into the living room.

The first thing or being I see is Coralyn, sitting astride her husband running her palms through his chest sensually, whispering something inaudible while the man’s head rests against the backrest, his hands on her hips.

Cute.

“Seigneur!  Ils ont besoin d’une chambre!” The girl said in French topping her extremely out of place sentence with a giggle.

(Lord! They need a room.)

Who you to tell if she needs a room to grope her legally wedded husband or not, eh?

“Mama.” Roman cleared his throat to get his parents attention.

The petite women jumped from her husband’s lap making the older man chuckle and get up, straighten his Armani suit and tuck his hands into his pocket.

“Bubba!” She cried wrapping her arms around Roman’s waist resting her head on his chest. “I missed you. How’s you?” She sniffled

“I missed you ma.” Roman said rubbing her back reassuringly and kissing the top of her head with so much love swirling in his eyes as she pulled away and flashed him a cute smile. “I am alright. Are you?”

Coralyn nodded. “I’ll be okay, once I’ve seen Angelo and whooped his butt with a spatula!”

Jesus Christ, everyone wants to hit Angelo.

“You should’ve told me or biscuit.”

“Both of you would worry your heads out.” He says cupping her cheeks. “You two worry too much. Where is mama Alyssa?”

“Right here.” The other women said walking down the stairs with a determination on his face. Her dark hair pinned at the back of her  head, her body donned in summer dress.

“Mama.” Roman held out his hand.

“Mama, eh?” The women slapped his hands away but hugged him nevertheless. “I missed you but I am mad at you too. You never tell me or biscuit anything.” She cooed.

“I missed you, ma.” Roman smiles kissing her head. “You worry.”

She kisses his cheeks patting his shoulder. “I’m just glad both of you brats are safe and alive.”

Coralyn hugs me and pinches my cheek to make them hurt and then pats my head standing on her tip toes being as small in size as she is.

“Is you okay?” She asks.

I nod. “Did you have fun in vacation?”

“Hardly a vacation it was.” She huffs. “More like running away from one home to the other.”

I nod.

“And work was giving me a headache!” She complains.

I swear she doesn’t work at all.

At least not that I know of.

Alyssa gives me a light hug and pats my cheek asking how have I been before a maid comes in and tells us that the lunch table is set out for the family.

“Cora.” I hear Roman’s father asking for his wife. “A minute, love?”

“Ow!” She pouts. “What I did, now?”

“Nothing puppy.” He sighs. ’“Just a minute, come on. I want to talk to you”

The older women skips to her husband who turns her away from the rest of the gathering ushering her somewhere else.

It takes me a moment to realise Angelo and Ariel had entered the room.

Oh well, looks like someone saved Angelo from good old Italian parenting.

Same as before miss I am perfect that you feel like dirt launches herself at Angelo and mutters something in French, dragging her palms down his suit clad chest.

“Hey, Boo!” I spot a tensed and choppy Ariel and hug her, she returns my affection with a smile.

“How are you?” She asks, both of her hands holding mine. “I am sorry I didn’t call or came over.”

“It’s okay.” I say. “Are you okay? Did you have a good night?”

She nods. “Slept like a baby, but yeah good.”

We walk out in the garden and under the shade of the very large tangerine tree a table is set out for the family.

“Lorenzo, couldn’t make it.” Alyssa says. “He sends his apologies.”

Cora waves her off claiming her seat on her husband’s right and then I sit beside her and then Roman sits besides me which leaves miss blonde the other head of the table so she is seated between both her friends.

Weirdo.

“Anne, it’s lovely to have you again, how long would you be staying?” Alyssa asks purely out of courtesy.

“As long as Roman and Angelo needs me to.” She replied.

Alyssa nodded as if happy by the idea.

“How are your mamo and papa?” Coralyn asks, with a gentle smile.

“They’re fine, Mrs. DiMariano, all in good health.”

“I am glad.” She said with a smile. “Let’s start. Marcus?” She lovingly asks her husband.

“Sí.” He nods waving his hands to the maids who scurries inside to get the lunch served.

“We’re skipping appetizers.” Coralyn says putting her napkin in her lap.

Well that cuts this short. I think mentally.

“Oh and Ariel.” Alyssa called the pink haired girl while she was looking a the crochet table cloth.

“I bought Mexican strawberries for you, you love them, don’t you? They’re in the kitchen, get then after desert, sí?” Alyssa says with a smile.

A smile entirely different from the one she gave to Anne.

“Sí.” Ariel smiled as if genuinely happy for her strawberries.

Now, I didn’t know she loves strawberries.

The thought makes me pout mentally.

“Comment était la Grèce Angelo?” Anne asks placing a hand in Angelo’s thigh.

(How was Greece, Angelo?)

A bit too close where it shouldn’t be, to be honest.

She seems shoddy.

“Charmant.” Angelo says with a shake of his head.

(Lovely)

Oh, charmant, alright when you get three shots and manage to come back alive, Greece sounds wonderful, doesn’t it? Devil-o.

“La première fois que nous avons visité la Grèce était tellement parfaite, n’est-ce pas?  Tu te souviens de Roman?” She giggles as of remembering the threesomes or whatever.

(The first time we visited Greece was just so perfect wasn’t it? Do you remember Roman?)

I shake my head.

She needs to stop talking like nobody understands French but she and her two little mafia friends.

I grew up in a very posh English household, alright?

Learning French was as equal to learn Bible by the heart and then waltz.

Like woman please, stop acting like nobody knows what your saying and thanking that it makes everybody look stupid.

“Oui.” Roman nods as he picks up his fork to dive into the food the the maids placed in front of him.

(Yes.)

“La Grèce était vraiment belle.” He adds before his eyes met with Angelo’s and he smirks shaking his head and the fact both were in sync makes Roman smirk too.

(Greece was lovely, indeed.)

Mademoiselle Anne was too busy groping her friends that she barely ate half her food before the maids came collect the dishes.

Her excuse was it had too much cheese and she was on a diet.

Now for someone who has grown a liking for Italian food and their cheese, I find that statement highly offending.

Anne’s behavior toward both the men seemed shoddy.

She touched Roman’s arm, knee, thighs at every chance she got.

She laughed airily with a hand on her chest appearing right out of a soap opera episode.

I could tell Ariel was getting annoyed.

However, after the lunch, the elders went to study to enjoy their café espresso while me, Ariel, Roman, Angelo and miss I am so posh you feel like mud bath stayed in the lunch table while she described how much fun the three of them had.

I was barely paying attention to the shits coning out of her mouth as I busied myself in sipping the shot of espresso while they conversed.

Ariel stood up abruptly declaring that she’ll get the strawberries and walked inside of the house to grab the fruits.

Just a minute or two after Ariel left, Anne excuses herself for  bathroom break and walks inside the house.

“That was not so family, friendly, was it?” I ask crossing my arms over my chest. “It was the starting of a porn film or so it appeared.”

“Shut up, Blaire.” Roman said lightning up a cigarette and handing the rest of the golden and black color to Angelo who mirrored his actions.

“Not your business, Blaire.” Angelo said taking a drag of the cigarette.

“Whatever.” I flip both of them off as I sit back on the chair.

“Where’s Anne?” Angelo asked as soon as Ariel came back and took a seat after placing the tray on the middle of the table, grabbing a strawberry from the bowl dipping it into the dark chocolate.

Now where does my bubbles look like Anne’s PA?

“Why, you seem too keen about her whereabouts.” She replies in a low voice but it gets heard by all.

“Why don’t you go find your where your precious Anne is?” She adds while Angelo glares at her.

Don’t glare at my bubbles, Angelo.

“Tadpole.” He warns.

“What?” She snaps.

I sigh as the surrounding goes eerily silent.

“So you two gonna pretend that nothing on this table happened?” I break the silence finally not wanting any kind of issue between the two of them.

And me and Roman.

We’re barely waddling and don’t wanna fall down really.

“Blaire.” Roman warned placing his phone face down. “Quiet.”

No. Roman, you be quiet.

“Oh, you shut the fuck up.” I snapped at him.

How dare he?

How the fuck dare he let’s that women grope him and then acts like nothing bothers him.

“There is a limit and time and place for being insulted and this…” I gesture at the whole table arrangement “Was neither and I’ve had enough.”

“Blaire, enough!” Roman barks.

“Fuck you.” I snap again. “And fuck him!” I point at Angelo. “Fuck you both coward cunts for acting like how a mouthy bitch groping your dicks was the most normal thing ever.”

“Why are you so childish?” Roman asks turning to face me, a frown resting on his face.

You know what?

Fuck you, Roman.

“Oh, I am childish?” I place my hand on my chest mocking Anne. “Monsieur, you haven’t seen childish-”

“This is it.” Roman sighs in vanquish. “I am done.” He drops his napkin on the table before getting up leaving, buttoning his suit jacket in the process.

“Yes, Walk away Roman.” I shout from my chair, hands gripping both the arm rests. “Walk away every time we need to address an issue. Bastard.”

Turning I grab a handful of berries popping one whole in my mouth, chewing with a purpose.

I don’t even like strawberry or anything relayed to strawberry but these are exceptionally sweet.

Ariel enjoys picking one huge one and taking her time to Savoie the taste licking the juices off her fingers.

Both me and Ariel enjoy the fruit not bothered by Angelo’s presence.

He too after a moment sighs and leaves.

Better for him.

“Are you and Roman having troubles?” She asks abruptly.

“Oh we will be definitely having troubles after this.” I say rolling my eyes.

“I’m not gonna let this go so easy. We maybe just fucking but that doesn’t give him a right to treat  me like a juvenile nut case on parole.”

We’re more then fucking at this point and that especially drives me mad.

“This is so much, stupid.” She says grabbing another berry. “I’ve never liked Anne and trust me the feelings mutual.”

“You’ve met miss I am so posh that you feel like dirt  before?” I ask.

Ariel nods dropping one whole berry in the chocolate bowl and picks up messing her hand with chocolate.

I crinkle up my nose shaking me head as Ariel explains what happened with her and mademoiselle Anne Beaumont.

What a stupid little shit. I think mentally.

“So that’s the third time I saw her and she was still stuck on calling me master’s pet, a whore and blah blah blah.” She shrugs. “She’s immature.”

Master’s pet?

Now what is this bdsm dungeon play club?

What a creep. I think.

“She’s stupid is what she is.” I say. “And has zero respect for woman kind if she thinks fondling men in presence of their consort is an act of friendship.”

She shrugs. “It’s probably normal for her.”

“Well, it’s not normal for me or your or their mothers, she needs to see what’s normal for who and what action of her is making who uncomfortable in the process.”

She nods ,doing the same thing with the other berry.

She needs to stop messing with the chocolate like that.

“I doubt the friend term goes too long for the three of them.” I retort.

They might have had threesomes for all I care. Or it’s the other term for one women two men.

Heheh-

“You have no idea.” Ariel mumbles shaking her head.

Anne graces us with her presence once more, looking more calm and happy.

“Did the men leave?” She asks.

“Roman and Angelo is in Roman’s office if that’s what you’re asking.” I say with an eye roll.

“Did anybody tell you you’re too rude for your position?” Anne asked narrowing an eye at me.

Oh no you don’t mess with me, Anne.

At least not in a verbal battle.

Or a fist fight.

“Did anybody tell you that you’re talking too much for your place, Anne?” Ariel asks turning to her. “You’re a guest to this family, please behave like it.”

Her abrupt outburst takes me by surprise and I sit back with a mean smile on my face.

“Oh, we’ll see who’s a guest, Ariel.” She mocks with a snort.

Now how fucking dare she says that to Bubbles!

“Oh, that we definitely will.” I retort.

“Va trouver tes amis.” I add putting extra effort in the tes

amis.

(Go find your friends)

“Parfois, je me sens si mal pour mes amis.   Ils auraient pu faire tellement mieux .” Anne says with a shake of her head, sighing.

(Sometimes, I feel so bad for my friends. They could’ve done so much better.)

“I know right.” I say. “I feel bad for them too.”

After Anne leaves fuming and cussing us in French about how low life whores we were in the name of women, Ariel and I talk some more over the bowl of strawberry and melted chocolate before a maid announces that it was time to leave.

I say bye to Coralyn who pouts and accuses me of stealing her pudding.

I swear that was one time.

But the women is holding on to me.

We’ll hopefully come back to the estate now that Coralyn and Roman’s dad is back along with Alyssa.

“So what’s up with Anne?” I ask as I slip into the passenger seat of Roman’s sports car as he dons a pair or red leather driving gloves.

“Anne’s here for work.” Roman replies without any further explanation.

“Does groping your dick comes with the job?” I ask.

Roman tells me to shut up or he’ll make me.

“Well, make me.” I change.

“Oh, just you wait, puppy.” He rasps. “Just you wait.”

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Ouuuhhh! I ended on a steamy moment. Hehe.

Questions:

One thing on your bucket list you’d want to tick off desperately?

-November.

26

The theory of  Anne Baguette seemed to make sense when I originally came up with it.

It don’t anymore.

I sat with a pencil and a notebook and Roman’s laptop that I sneaked from his office, watching the surveillance footage from that night, while eating animal cracker with melted cheese.

It doesn’t make any sense.

I could see Angelo and Ariel, arguing in that room and than-

Not a sight I’d watch so I skipped five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Twenty minutes.

Jesus! Devil-o on viagra or some shit?

Twenty seven minutes skipping the tape, I saw Ariel walk toward the bathroom.

Angelo walking back to his chair, lighting up a cigarette.

Me and Roman entering.

I ask Devil-o something he replies and we have a ten second starring contest before we scamper to the bathroom.

The bathroom doesn’t have a surveillance camera.

The logic leaves me with a headache.

They wouldn’t want to see their boss shitting or showering but rather watch him have sex-

I’m absolutely disgusted.

I watch the tape while we were in the bathroom.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nobody moves.

Not even air passes.

That bitch must be in the bathroom.

Sighing I push the laptop off my chest where I placed it as I was laying on my back.

I’ve watched this tape for more then three times yet, I fail to find something.

Anything.

Roman said he’d come back around nine when he left Ariel’s home this morning.

The bastard wasn’t here yet.

It was already eleven thirty.

Should’ve stayed with Ariel instead of here.

The inn is scary when I am alone and guards are positioned at almost every door.

I dip the elephant shaped cracker into the cheese and put it in my mouth while I resume watching what happened after.

Me and Roman left, Angelo came out, sat in the chair.

Rolled a joint, smoked the joint went back to the room. The camera went on-

Wait wait wait.

Wait a fucking minute.

I go back.

Way back where Anne Baguette was present.

It’s a 360 degree camera. Meaning-

Meaning nothing.

Anne may not be our guy.

Or gal, rather.

I watched as the three of them conversed, the men either oblivious to Anne’s moves or just ignoring her, while she smokes a cigarette.

A burly man entered the room and said something.

Probably announcing our uninvited arrival.

The man sat for a good ten minutes after before Roman decides to leave.

And then Angelo gets up along with Anne, who uses the bathroom and surely gets out.

I sigh.

She did use the bathroom.

I wish there was a fucking camera inside the fucking bathroom.

Did she set her plans in motion while she was in the bathroom.

I zoomed at her shoes.

Heels alright.

But that’s isn’t going to help when I say this to Roman.

He says I’ve gone mad.

I mean- he never thought I was sane either.

And this bullshit doesn’t even prove anything.

However, Ariel said she felt the sweet smell when she turned on the tap.

So either it was in the tank, the chloroform or it was sprayed when her attention was turned.

My guess is the later.

Because darling dear chloroform doesn’t dissolve in water completely.

However slightly.

And if the bastard or bitch put the sedative in water it would mean everybody would get a reaction.

So far, only Bubbles did.

My head was a wreck.

Something needed to be done.

A plan was brewing in my head.

But I am not sure if it would be a good one.

It isn’t a good one.

I chew my lips looking at the crackers I have left.

It isn’t a good plan.

The door opened, as Roman walked in, still wearing the all black outfit he left this morning.

“What are you doing with my computer?” He asks watching the mess of cracker crumb I’ve made on the bed.

Did I mention he hates when I eat on his bed.

Yeah.

So I do it more.

“Oh.” I say wiping my hand in the bedsheets, just to spite him. “I was looking at the surveillance-”

“What surveillance?”

“Of the club, Roman.” I roll my eyes.

How thick does a person get?

I shake my head.

“Of the club, and there isn’t a camera in the bathroom-”

“And?” He raises an eyebrow.

“And, I don’t have anything to prove that Anne is our gal.”

“So you found out that about- when, puppy?” He asks.

“You’re a day or three late.” He adds undoing his suit jacket and unbuttoning his shirt.

“Don’t be so crass.” I frown.

“You’re the stating the obvious, Blaire.”  He says, his tone impassive.

“It’s fucking obvious for God’s sake, Anne didn’t do it.” He said.

“And if she did, she needs a motive, what does your nut sized brain establish of that, huh?”

“She has a motive!” I whine loudly.

“Yeah?”

“She wants to two dicks up her bum!”

“That’s a fiercely childish reason, Blaire.”

“It’s not.” I argue.

“Women are dangerous creatures when they are jealous.” I state.

“Anne doesn’t get along with Ariel or her guts. Anne doesn’t get along with me.” I point at myself.

“She’s simply trying to wipe out competition.”

“That’s a stupid reason, Blaire.” He says.

“This is not your petty fiction. Enemies are all over, you can’t focus on one female and forget the rest of the world exists.”

“Fuck off, Roman.” I rolled my eyes  at him making him sigh and walk toward the bathroom.

I hear the shower start as I scamper down from the bed and pull the sheets along with me.

When I’m done successfully making the bed, covering the white mattress with maroon sheets and put the dirty one in the hamper along with the shirt and jacket Roman discarded on the floor.

Now, I am not perfectly perfect like Ariel.

She separates the whites from the color.

She has a separate basket for dry cleaning, a separate for the bedsheets and pillow cover and all that.

I just put them on a basket and the cleaning lady sorts it out.

Sometimes I feel jealous of my best friends energy in doing these works that make me feel almost as lazy as Coco.

He was one lazy thing.

“Look I made your bed.” I announce as soon as Roman exits the bathroom, rubbing his hair with a towel.

“Thank you, puppy.” He says dismissively.

Oooh, he nice nice today.

“So what took you so long?”

“What do you mean?” He asks sitting on the edge of the bed.

“You said you’ll be here around nine.”

“Got late.” He says. “There was a party.”

“I thought you went suit fitting.”

“Do I have to answer everything to you?” He asks obviously annoyed and irritated at my string of questions.

“Don’t be so pissy.” I frown. “I’m just asking.”

“Stop asking.” He snaps. “You don’t have to know everything.”

“Fuck you too.” I snap back.

I won’t lie and act like Tarzan and all that.

His words and the way those came out of his mouth, left me a little hurt.

“It doesn’t cost you to be nice.” I whisper walking to the other side of the bed, ignoring his form in the edge of the bed.

“I waited up for you till twelve.” I say.

“All you can be is a little nice to me.”

“I told you to stop nosing around in the nicest way I can.” He replied.

“The nicest way of yours needs serious work.” I say getting into the bed.

Roman doesn’t bother me anymore.

Which is good because he was being mean anyway.

I fall asleep fairly quick, given the work my brain did all day.

Plus, I tidied up the whole suite, because I had nothing else to do and my head was giving out way too weird scenarios so I did something productive.

But do Roman care?

He don’t.

Ungrateful pussy.

Out of spite, I didn’t even face him, hogged all the sheets and left him alone on the other side of the bed.

Your iconic petty bitch.

But I woke up, snuggled against him anyway.

Feels like my petty self only works when I am wake.

Roman was awake and was on the phone while I laid on his upper arm hearing him talk about pasta bolognese.

Or maybe it was some shipment thing cause, I heard cocaine.

“Get off me!” I snapped while my head still rested on his arm, legs thrown over his.

“Are you even normal?” He asks.

“I am the fucking definition of normal.” I said. “Get off.”

Sighing he looks at he like I have lost my brain somewhere along the way before pushing himself up from the bed, resulting me to untangle myself from him.

I scowled.

Okay. Maybe I am being mean to him in the first place.

Roman orders breakfast from the hotel downstairs and walks into his office.

I make the bed.

See? I can be nice and all that.

After I am satisfied with my handiwork, I wake my way toward Roman’s office, his laptop clutched on my chest.

The couch was empty so I settled myself on that and fired up the surveillance and emerged myself into the activities of that night.

Again.

Something has to be caught on tape, right?

It’s not like it was some paranormal activity or something like that.

I mean, it has to be a human if she has a foot prints.

Ghosts don’t wear heels.

“Who maintains these?” I ask Roman who was sitting behind his desk, sorting some paper out.

“What?” He asks impassive as ever.

“The surveillance.” I say chewing in my nails.

“I just found a one and half minute gap around twelve thirty-”

“What?” He snaps.

“Yeah.” I say replaying the footage all over from twelve twenty eight.

Around 12:25-27 Angelo wonders about the office room, lights another joint, smoking it as he makes sure the door is locked with his card and turns off the light.

The footage disappears at 12:30 resuming at 12:31:34.

Weird.

That one point five minutes was definitely an escape footage of whoever caused this shit but failed.

Someone who knew that the unlock button works from under the desk.

“What do you mean a gap?” Roman makes his way to me, standing behind as I replay for him again.

“See?” I point at the time. “Exact one minute and thirty four second footage has been removed-”

“I’ve watched it myself.” He argues. “More than once.”

You’re only human too, Roman.

“I didn’t erase the image, Roman.” I say with an eye roll.

“You can see right there.”

“This doesn’t make a sense.” He frowns.

It doesn’t.

“So I’ve been telling.” I roll my eyes.

“What makes you think it’s still Anne?” He asks abruptly leaning close to me.

Our face close.

Dangerously close.

“I- I-” I sigh. “Well I don’t like her for one so-”

“That’s no reason, pup.”

I shrug and as if sweet holy Jesus decided oh how nice It’d be to relive Blaire from some of her tension.

A message pops up on the screen.

Anne.

I look at Roman with a raised eyebrow.

“Go on.” I urge. “Open it.”

Roman does.

The text says,

Meeting at the club @9?

“Seems as if y’all have another meeting.” I say.

Roman types a yes and presses enter to send the text.

The bubbles of typing appears but Roman crosses the application before I have any comments to make.

Or see what she replies.

If it’s a naked picture or not.

If Anne Baguette is behind all these and then she’s at the club to night-

“What are you thinking?” He asks watching me zone out in a world of scheming to catch mademoiselle Beaumont red handed.

If we’re at the club tonight and her intention is to silence me and Ariel-

“I’m thinking it wouldn’t be too bad to have a party at the club, Roman.” I say tuning my face to see him.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It would be horrendous to have a party at the club, tonight.”

“Roman-”

“And if your little idea and theory falls in place, the club isn’t safe for you or Ariel or any women hoarding this family.”

“You can put back up, Roman.” I argue.

“Look, if she’s at it, the the men can catch her while she’s at it-”

“Your idea is ludicrous-”

“Hear me out!” I shriek as he takes the computer away from me and walks back to his desk.

“Hear me out.”

“No.” He dismisses me. “It’s a red plan.”

“Roman-”

He waves me off but I go on anyway.

I tell him my red plan and even though he doesn’t give me an expression while he types something out on his desktop, I know he was listening.

“And plus, you will be there and so will be Angelo, your papa and Lorenzo can be there too- it’s not dangerous.” I reason.

“Have you given a thought, that you’re putting everyone in danger? Including you?”

“Yes.” I nod.

“But as I said, back up and y’all will be there, and it’s just Baguette alone- she can’t do no shit alone-”

“Just don’t yourself killed, Blaire.” He says with a sigh.

“Awe.” I coo. “You care about me, Roman?”

He gives me an eye roll.

“Tease.” I mutter. “Do you want me to make you breakfast?” I ask.

“I ordered for us-”

“Well, cancel it, let me make you some Italian. I stole you mum’s recipe book.”

Said as done, I make some good old Italian breakfast with coffee.

Which is easy cause Roman has an auto cappuccino machine.

When I set the plates for breakfast, he walks out of the bedroom, ready for the day.

“I have to go sort out a shipment issue.” Roman says taking his seat.

I nod.

Roman gives me a this and that information out of the blue sometimes.

Sometimes I even forget them but pretend like I remember.

“Is Angelo going with you too?” I ask handing him a fork.

He shakes his head. “He’s taking Ariel to a doctor.”

The information makes me frown.

“Why?” I ask claiming my seat back.

“Angelo thinks Ariel is sick, she’s been off the color for some days.”

I can’t say I have noticed the change in her color.

Probably I’ve been too emerged into myself that I didn’t take time to see how she was holding up.

But she seemed okay yesterday.

And at her house.

I shake my head.

But the girl would hide her problems and pretend like she’s perfectly fine while fighting ten thousand inner battles.

“You’re panicking.”

I look at Roman.

“I didn’t notice she was sick-”

“She’s not too sick, just Angelo thinks she might be slightly sick, you don’t have to panic, Blaire.”

“I suppose.”

I should’ve seen it, shan’t I?

I’m her friend.

“Breathe, Blaire.”

I do.

Roman keeps an eye on me through out the whole breakfast as he eats his.

He tells me he’ll be a little after lunch before he walks out of the suite.

I try calling Ariel’s number through the land phone.

It rings and dissolves.

Over and over.

Why isn’t she picking up?

It’s almost twelve thirty when I shower and try to divert my brain from everything else, while getting another packet of animal cracker and melt some cheese.

Fuck, can’t get enough of these as my all day every day snack.

No matter what I do, my brain doesn’t let go, the thought of Ariel being sick.

What if something bad has happened to my little mermaid.

All I can do as of this moment is hope and pray that its nothing serious.

Urgh! I pick up the phone and call her number again.

---

AUTHORS NOTE

First things first,

1. I know that after a long wait this chapter isn’t up to y’alls mark.

2. Yes I know. Y’all wanted some Blaire x Roman moment, I did  too but I am sorry I couldn’t and I an such a shitty writer.

3. Lately I haven’t been able to feel alright about whatever chapter I wrote about this book and so kept deleting it and there is a two of three day time jump.

4. I’ll make it up to y’all with a nice chapter next update.

I am sorry this chapter was stupid. Sorry guys.

Question :

Are y’all loving the weather changing to cold?

-November.

27

“ Your generation lacks romance.“ Lorenzo lectured examining a strand of diamond shaped into a bracelet, presumably as a wedding gift for mama Alyssa.

I felt like swinging a right hook under Angelo’s fucking jaw so the bastard shuts up for good.

Standing behind Lorenzo and papa as they picked out jeweleries for their beloved, I watched various assortment of jeweleries showcased as per taste.

Angelo looked at watches and showed the sales women the one on his wrist and asked the lady one for the same Rolex model he was sporting.

“Don’t you want to pick up something?” I heard my father asking me over his shoulder with an eye brow raised.

The judgement clear in his voice.

And we are exactly where we were yesterday when they were doing the same .

Just in a different city, in a different luxury store.

I caught Angelo’s eye.

The bastard was smirking, his lips sealed with his pointer finger bearing the gold band and the family emblem.

Cunt .

Ignoring the bastard’s presence like a parasite, I cleared my throat putting my hands in my slacks pocket and pretended to look at the various display of fashionable necklaces encased in glass boxes.

The fuck would I want to buy?

And where has romance ever got me? I questioned myself and felt the urge to ask it out loud to the older men standing before me waiting for the sales women to get their custom orders whole browsing for more.

All this mundane drama that makes no perception whatsoever, started in the car.

I blame Angelo.

The bastard blames me.

Anyway, it started when my father dear asked me to stop driving making the range river halt in front of a flower shop.

He got out, powerfully strode inside the store and came out with a bunch of fully bloomed daisy with a blush pink ribbon tied to their long stems to give them a bouquet like look.

Daisies for my Daisy.

I could almost hear him whispering to mama as he handed her those.

Those words I’ve heard him whispering to her since I learned how to walk and understand voices.

Angelo on the other hand, finishing his one and only cigarette for the evening, lounged on the passenger seat while Lorenzo talked to the somebody over the phone.

The ride to the jewelry store vacated for one hour just for the sake  of their purchase was almost silent until he asked papa why did he buy flowers when he was buying diamonds?

What kind of dumb fuck question was that? I thought.

And so the lecture of romance begun.

My ears were bleeding .

At least Angelo slid away looking for something.

“Roman?” Lorenzo’s voice snapped me to look at him.

“Sí?” I asked.

“Are you buying something or are we leaving?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

Fuck this.

“Pack this one for me.” I pointed at a random chain with a dangling diamond.

Fuck, I’ll shove it inside my desk drawer and forget about this. I thought.

I wasn’t about to be silently judged like I was the previous evening.

I wasn’t- together with the insane and unhinged women in a way the family came to think about.

Well at least the elders thought.

What else are they supposed to think when I’ve been keeping the girl at the inn, privately nonetheless and not providing any kind of explanation to my mother when she asks?

I suppose-

Blaire understands, what’s going on and that no feeling are however involved and so far that’s all what matters because I know my family.

They’ll forget.

Like they forgot Maria .

I heard Angelo telling the woman tending him to wrap up his purchase in a gift wrap.

“Would you like yours wrapped, sir?” The lady asked putting the diamond necklace in a Bvlgari box.

I answered the lady with a shake of my head and handed her my card, while she tied a ribbon and did the unnecessary fancy things before putting the god damn box into a tiny bag.

After the shopping trip, dad and Lorenzo took different cars while Angelo stuck with me.

“I’m not your fucking chauffeur .” I glared at him as he slid into the passenger seat of the Jaguar  the Range Rover taken by the security.

“Never said you were.” He replied making a noise of content as he got comfortable in my cherry leather seat.

“Where is your fucking car?” I asked starting the ignition and pulling away from the mall’s parking lot.

“Alberto has it.” He said rolling up a joint using the cannabis sample from his slacks pocket and sealing the paper close.

“Did you talk to Blaire all evening?” Angelo asked lighting his joint.

“No.” I replied impassively.

Before the crazy lady, all in her crazy glory left the inn, with mama, I handed her a burn phone.

She was yet to make an appearance.

Or an abnormal remark.

“I still don’t believe it can be Anne.” He retorts offering me the joint.

“She lacks any motive possible.” He adds.

“Blaire says she wants a threesome again so she’s wiping out competition-”

“It wasn’t a threesome.” Angelo laughed as I handed him the joint back after taking a long drag of it.

I scoffed at the remark.

“I haven’t heard from Ariel either, it’s worrying me.” He frowned.

“How is she?” I asked.

“She say she’s fine.” Angelo shrugs. “I find it hard to believe-”

The ping from my phone cuts the conversation short.

Anne.

There was an attachment to the text.

Opening the attachment while driving alternating between the road and the lit screen of my phone, I recoiled in distaste and disgust handing device to Angelo.

He made a noise of discomfort before possibly deleting the file and closing his eyes.

“Unsee this, I want to.” He cursed.

We chuckled sharing the joint back and forth until Minx came into view.

Anne was only in the picture because she was valuable.

As for her friendship to me and Angelo, it was purely sexual.

A threesome or whatever anybody wishes to call.

Anne’s father was an ally to my father and Anne was as equally cunning, manipulative little bitch of a woman.

But whatever she was no snitch and so she was trusted.

Besides a lady like Anne, who belonged from a respected and reputed family, cared a lot about her own image, reputation and prestige.

She wouldn’t want the images of her bedroom leaked out- and thus this baseless accusation on Miss Beaumont was totally invalid.

And absurd, I’d like to add as well.

But whatever kept Blaire busy from shoving her cute little nose into my business was worth it.

And besides, if her assumptive plan really worked then a reason, a valid one other than some threesome would be into view.

And unambiguously, I was exhausted from this rat and mouse chase.

Tonight, I parked the Jaguar at the front gate of the club, stepping out, Vuitton shoes hitting the pavement silently as I closed the door of the car.

Angelo followed, suit, shrugging on his black Brioni jacket following me inside the club as I shoved my keys to the bouncer to pass them to a valet or somebody.

Customarily, the place was backed.

Disregard of the people on the dance floor in the front part of the club, talking bodies playing though the internal speakers, I walked toward my destination.

My phone pinged again, indicating an incoming text.

Anne.

“ Let’s reschedule the meeting, emergency, work.“

Ignoring the need the put out a reply for her, I walked to the furthest area where stages were set up and from a normal nightclub the layout changed into a home of exotic dance.

Women entertaining on the stages, cash flying, alcohol flowing, the trench of bunt marijuana and alcohol lingers in the loud noisy air as I, followed by my right hand man walked toward the stairs taking us to the VIP deck.

The glass wall, put up, no wonder from the endless complaining from my mama dear given the environment being too loud.

The couches were rearranged differently, their usual black glory now plastered in white faux leather with fur slip covers over the pillows.

The women, namely my mother, my mama Alyssa, Ariel and Blaire sat around in oversized circular club chairs, similarly changed into whites, curled up, ice cream bowls in hands and gossiped about things that really didn’t matter.

Angelo tended his mother with a kiss while I kissed mama on her cheeks and forehead.

“How are you?” I asked her hands clasped in mine.

“Lovely.” She smiles,  there was a flush on her cheeks from laughing too loud for too long.

She seemed happy.

“How’s you?” She asked. “Where did your papa go to?”

“Hmm.” I sighed pretending to ponder. “To a flower shop, he bought you daisies .”

Her whole demeanour lit out as she grinned feeling pampered.

“He did?”

I nod.

“Why, that’s cute.” She hummed. “And what did you buy?”

“Nothing.” I lied.

“Nothing?” She pouted. “ Nothing for Blaire?“

Sighing I gave her a kiss before greeting mama Alyssa.

“Mama.” I kissed her cheeks she felt pampered as she smiled.

“How’re you?” She asks.

“Fine.” I said. “How’re you? You look rather pale.”

She waves the concerned tone in my voice away.

“Are you sure?” I asked.

“Sí, Angelo asked if I was unwell, do I look sick?”

“Just pale.” I agreed. “Do you feel sick?”

She shakes her head. “Don’t worry.”

“Go tend your girl.” She adds. “She rather looks off.”

I nodded toward Ariel in recognition who was now sitting in Angelo’s envelop.

I found my way beside Blaire who had a bowl of mint chocolate chip ice cream in her hand and was focused solely in it.

“Good evening.” I greeted unbuttoning my suit, taking the space beside her.

“Why, hello there.” She said with out looking up from her ice cream bowl.

Well someone’s moody this evening. I think leaning back against the chair.

“How did your shopping go?” She asked finding the bits of chocolate from he ice cream.

“Good.” I said thinking about the small box resting on the pocket of my blazer the fancy detail chucked out in a trash bin.

She nodded knowing as she looked over at anybody but myself.

“What’s wrong with you?” I asked a frown making itself in my head.

“It’s almost nine.” She mumbled still spinning through the ice cream bowl looking for chocolate bits.

“ Baguette isn’t here-“

“ Anne .“ I corrected. “The meeting is canceled.”

She heaved a breath, but I don’t know if it was relief or disappointment.

“Well, that sucks.” She sighed putting her bowl on the coffee table up front and leaned against the backrest of the couch.

Blaire was sporting a satin emerald green slip dress with a V neckline in the front, showing somewhat shape of the mounds in her chest, the back was a more deeper V the material just overing her waist and bottom stopping on her mid thigh.

Her expression of almost disappointment from not playing her own game, brought out somewhat of a gloomy shadow over her expression.

“Why?” She asked.

“What, why?” I repeated pouring myself a drink from the decanter and dropping an ice cube on my glass to chill it.

“Why did she cancel?” She asked.

“Emergencies she wrote.” I sighed closing my eyes, head tilted back.

“Bu-” She begun.

“Drop it.” I ordered.

My tone of voice made her sigh and quiet down before I felt her move further and picking her ice cream bowl back up.

Hearing mama giggle or shriek  maybe both, I opened my eyes to see papa was here and she had got her bundle of daisy flowers.

“Let’s go dance.” She said excitedly after successfully pinning one to his lapel and almost dragging the man downstairs.

“Cute.” Blaire mumbled after a while peering through the glass wall.

I had seen it enough times to be sure that what she saw was- yes.

Cute .

Mama Alyssa and Lorenzo joined the couple shortly followed by Angelo and Ariel.

Slow music was drifting from the bottom floor as couples dominated the place where seconds ago was the erotic movements of dancers.

Blaire focussed on her ice cream all over again tearing her eyes from the dance floor.

Did she want to dance ? I thought.

“I- uh-” I begun before frowning.

When was the last time I did this?

Never.

“I brought you something.” I said.

She gave up a sound mixed with a snort and a scoff.

“Buying gifts , are you?” She asked.

“It’s not a gift .” I argue pulling the grey velvety box from my blazer pocket and extending it toward her.

Blaire suspiciously frowned at me before taking the box from my hand, her nails painted black with shimmers.

Surprised and bewildered, the girl opened the box revealing an emerald pendant dangling from a white gold chain.

That’s-

That’s not the one I pointed . I cussed mentally.

Fucking shopkeeper.

“Thank you.” Blaire whispered, delicately pulling the jewelry from the box and examining the stone on her palm.

“This is beautiful, thank you, Roman.” She competed the thanks with a smile.

“You’re welcome.” I repeated as I watched her unclasping the fragile clasp and placing the emerald on her neck struggling with the clasp.

“Let me.” I pressed, moving her dark hair over her shoulders and clasped the fancy clasp around her neck.

“Thank you.” She sighed.

My fingers lingered over her pale skin grazing the soft soft feeling of her under my calloused fingers.

Blaire released a suppressed breath before leaning against my touch.

Confident that she was alright with it, I moved my fingers toward her shoulders, trailing my fingertips down her slender arms.

She sighed leaning against me, her back pressed to my front, as my mouth found it’s way to her neck.

Fuck.

“Roman.” She breathed out my name, her right hand going around my neck, keeping my head nestled against her neck, as I feasted on her sweet exquisite flesh.

Nibbling, biting, sucking, probably leaving a mark before moving to a softer spot, coaxing another moan out of her.

Blaire angled her face so she could stare into mine.

Her blue eyes to my brown ones before her mouth slowly moves to mine.

Fuck .

She places her lips on mine.

Soft at first.

Then slowly gaining her confidence, she moves her cherry lips against mine, as I stay motionless.

While I weigh over my options. Reasons.

Deception.

Maria .

Fuck.

I push myself away from her scrumptious lips, a wave of pure venom rushing through me.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

“Roman.” Blaire whispered, her voice soft, defeated .

“Don’t fucking do that ever again.” I said getting up from the oversized circular club chair.

“Don’t fucking do that again.” I repeat.

I didn’t stay to see what went through her ice blue eyes.

Or how her face reacted to my words.

Fuck

Fuck.

Fuck.

Tugging the jacket off my shoulders, I placed it over my arm as I made my way out of the club’s premise through the back door.

What the fuck ? I think, eyes shutting close.

Nothing.

Why did it felt so right?

Why- why did I pushed myself away?

Jesus .

Maria.

Maria.

Maria.

Blaire .

There is no Maria when I close my eyes.

There was no- Maria.

There was nothing.

Than why does it feel so fucking wrong but so right at the same time?

Blaire.

Blaire.

Fuck.

Turning I rush back to the club, the way back, through the stairs into the deck.

There was no Blaire.

Her bowl of ice cream sat alone, unattended on the coffee table.

Fuck .

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

So, yeah…

The chapter was shitty as usual. I’m forgetting how to write or I’m expecting too much of myself.

Anyway~ thoughts on this.

Question:

Where did Blaire go?

-November.

28

Ariel’s home was quite active from the club.

But that was okay.

I’m not sire my pride would let me leave with someone else and go back to that place.

Or that bed.

I felt more rejected than I felt the n my whole ass life and it nauseated me.

Ariel cuddled me in the backseat while Devil-o played chauffeur.

“Take any room you want, okay?” Bubbles said as I walked inside the pristine white and cream coloured house, tastefully decorated and wiped clean.

“I’ll bring you pajamas.” She said as we walked upstairs and entered the first room caught my eyes.

I don’t care what room I get.

I just need some sleep and some seconds to collect myself.

Nurse my wounded ego and pride.

A whole bunch of seconds for that.

I thought entering the cream colored room and taking a seat on the queen sized bed with a sigh.

Playing with the emerald lavalliere dangling from my neck.

What was the purpose of this if he wanted to push me away anyway.

That man needs a rain check.

I slip my feet off the red bottomed shoes and sitting up on the bed when Ariel walks in.

Her hair in a bun and petite curvy frame sporting a navy blue ankle length silk robe.

“Here you go.” She said offering me a smile and handing me a stack of cloths.

“Thanks.” I sighed examining the cloths. A chemise top and shorts with lace trims.

“They might me a little short on you-” She shrugs unsure.

“It’s fine.” I say grateful for her and whatever she’s offering.

“Okay-” She nods. “Go shower or change or wash- do you want something to eat?”

I shake my head climbing down from the bed.

I had enough whiplash to last a week without food, thank you very much.

I walked into the spacious ensuite bathroom and turned on the shower to hot.

It was thirty minute long therapy session with my self, convincing my stupid mind that nothing happened.

Nothing happened and I wasn’t going to cry over an asshole, who has the audacity to buy me expensive goodies but not to kiss me.

He’s a coward.

And plain right bastard in flesh.

After I was nearly scorched, I stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself and my hair walking to the sink.

The color left my face the moment I wishpered his name and he told me not to fucking do that again.

I slipped on the top and the shorts after drying myself.

They were a loose fit on the sides and a little short. I mean the shorts was.

Ariel was blessed on the chest department if y’all haven’t noticed.

It made me wander if Angelo was boob man or not.

Well, he probably is. I think walking out to the bedroom.

There was weighted blanket on the bed with lace ruffle trims and a robe sat on top of it.

Slippers on the floor a mug of hot chocolate on the bedside table.

Getting dinner started for Angelo, come down if you wanna.

The sticky note said that was slapped on the mug, the contents of it topped with bits of unmelted chocolate and marshmallow.

She sure knows how to care, don’t she? I think, taking off the marshmallows one by one with my fingers and enjoying the taste.

After another twenty minutes to my self, nursing my hot chocolate, I make way downstairs.

Five steps down the stairs, I saw the image of Roman standing beside before the kitchen counter, while he talks to Ariel.

Her palm resting on his upper arm as she gives him a smile and talks about what not.

I see Roman pat her cheek and nod while she keeps her perfect little smile in place.

She squeezes his arm for whatever reason and gives her a kiss on the cheek.

I don’t wait to see the rest of the scene.

Fuck this. I think walking back upstairs and closing my door.

I need time. I think as I place the mug of drained hot chocolate down on the beside table and curl up on the bed.

Fuck Roman.

Fuck Ariel talking to Roman acting all smiley and happy.

Fuck everybody.

I don’t fucking give two shits.

With the anger boiling inside me, scorching my heart like fire, i fall asleep.

Refusing to cry.

Refusing to go down and do whatever Ariel does to entertain her nightly guests.

I screw my eyes shut closed with the thought that just passed my head.

She’s my friend. I reason.

My only friend.

Roman is a brother to Angelo.

Ariel is with Angelo.

I scold myself mentally for letting my thinking go abnormally taboo.

I had the lights turned off, but faintly I heard the door being pushed open.

For a second,

A wretched second I think it’s Roman.

It’s not.

“Blaire?” Ariel’s sweet concerned voice rips the silence of the room.

“You want something bub?” She asked gently.

I hope she takes the hint that I’m asleep and leaves me the fuck alone.

I hear the woman sigh. “Do you want chocolate cake? We have some-”

Failing to extract whatever response she wants from me, she leaves closing the door softly behind her.

I don’t know why I feel this way.

The raging feeling of anger toward Ariel was boiling inside me.

A part of me was sure that I fucking detested her.

The other part reasoned that she was my friend and almost a sisterly figure to Roman.

And thus she comforted him or reassured him or whatever.

Fuck.

Sometime thinking and debating between what was wrong with me or the situation in general, I fall asleep, curled under the lace ruffled blanket.

In Ariel’s guest room.

Sometime later in the night, my room drenched in darkness and shadows I wake up from a dream.

Not quote sure what played inside my head while I slept, but my state told me it was nevertheless disturbing.

There was no water in the jug on the bedside table.

Or a water bottle.

Getting down from the bed, I grabbed the robe from the edge of the bed and shrugged the microfiber bottomed gown on.

Tying a knot around my waist, I walked toward the staircase.

The lights of the living room dimmed and the rest are turned off, giving the vibrant, well decorated home a spooky look.

I gently padded toward the kitchen, feet clad in fur slippers.

I tentatively walk toward the fridge, opening the door, flooding the dark room with fluorescent light emitting from the modern fridge as I look for something to drink.

Cranberry juice. Prune juice.

Fuck.

Water bottles were stacked at the bottom rack. So I pull one of the glass bottle out and take a swig.

I sear Ariel is crazy.

Who reuses glass bottle as water bottle?

Mad woman. I think as I take another swig from the bottle and keep drinking till I have half the non labeled but obvious whiskey bottle drained.

“Hey.” I hear Ariel’s soft voice.

It makes me turn and look at her.

She looked as of she hasn’t had much of a sleep, dressed in a short pajama bottom and a huge T-shirt.

“You want something to eat?” She asked moving toward the fridge, and getting the bottle of cranberry juice.

Another non labeled whiskey bottle reused.

I watch the women move silently getting a red wine glass for herself and pour juice in it and then add water from my bottle.

“Do you want cake?” She asked busying herself to put the juice bottle back into the fridge.

I don’t like her at this moment.

Ariel closes the fridge door holding a plate of chocolate cake, one forth eaten and the rest intact.

“I don’t want cake.” I said but kept my tone in check.

What is wrong with you, Blaire? I ask myself.

She’s your only friend.

Your best friend.

Roman kissed her though. I reason.

And pushed me away.

There was venom in my thinking.

A venom I shouldn’t posses and am definitely shouldn’t let it feast on my thinking.

But it does.

“Okay.” She says cutting a piece of cake and putting the desert in a desert plate grabbing a golden fork and putting the rest in the fridge.

“Did you enjoy your dinner?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Hmm?” She asked taking a bite of her cake.

“There was nothing to enjoy, Roman came over, stayed for dinner, Angelo and Roman ate and he left and then we-” She adds with a casual shrug.

“I’m sure you enjoyed yourself.” I whispered.

“What?” She laughs. “I barely ate.”

“I saw him kissing your cheek.” I feel the pained whisper leave my chest.

Better out than in, they said.

“Why’d he do that to you but push me away?” I asked in rugged whisper.

“Am I so hideous?” I ask.

“Blaire-” She breathes. “Bub I-”

“Don’t!” I yelled. “I see pity in your eyes!”

She grows quiet.

Her eyes swirling with hurt as she takes every hit of the verbal blow I throw at her.

“I don’t want your fucking pity!” I yell.

The water filled whiskey bottle crashes on the floor.

I see the petite, sad and almost wounded woman cower and close her eyes, jumping slightly from the ugly sound that pierce through the eerily silent house.

“It mortifies me how he’d run to you for consolation but I don’t deserve an elucidation for the rejection I felt.” I hiss.

“So fuck you, and fuck everything!”

With that, I retrieve back to my room, slam the door shut, ugly tears running down my pathetic eyes as I rip the covers from the bed and curl up.

When I wake up again, it morning.

A little late than morning.

I look at the digital clock on the bedside table it read a quarter to eleven.

Well fuck time too.

Silently pondering about my behaviour of last night toward Ariel made me want to cry.

What was wrong with me?

These emotions were still so very new and so very raw.

Ariel was the only-

Is the only person who always has my back and that she had since the first day she met me.

And now I had successfully been a total stuck up arsehole to her.

She’s been nothing but good and gentle to me and look what I did in the middle of the night, yelling at her because simply I just felt small.

Fucking Blaire.

Grunting, I got from the bed and entered the bathroom, did my business brushed my teeth and walked out, pulling my hair up in a bun.

Walking out of the room, feet donned in slippers, I gave my self a slight pep talk about how to face Ariel.

Apologize and tell that I was thankful she let me stay here and make up.

But she made it easier.

When I got downstairs, last nights spooky house had turned into a lovely home.

The floor to ceiling windows were open, the ruffly and gauzy curtains pushed back and tied with ribbons.

I found the pink haired women on the living room floor, an array of flowers in front of us and almost four glass hard filled with water as she measured and cut the stalks, a waste basket beside her.

“Hey.” She smiled when she say me, all half dead and walking other living room.

“Buongiorno.” She wished. “How’d you sleep?”

“Good.” I replied taking a set on her precious white couch.

“How did you sleep?” I asked tentatively.

“Good.” She says. “My medication makes it harder so I’ve been up since six.”

I could tell she was lying to my face.

I could tell she hadn’t slept at all.

Her face was tired no matter how much effort she put on her smile and tried to look tension free and relaxed.

“Give me a minute to put these away, I’ll warm your breakfast.” She gently said.

I watched her snip off the steam of the last flower and regard the four perfectly arranged piles before putting them in their designated crystal jar.

She placed one as the centre piece of the table before moving to clear off the mess and carrying the rest of the jars with her.

I kicked my feet off the floor and laid back against the couch, after grabbing the TV remote and turning the damn device on.

I settled on cartoon network playing Tom And Jerry, but in spaghetti language.

Muting it, I kept watching the cat and mouse chase, bringing somewhat of a smile to my face.

Ariel arrived shortly with breakfast.

“Thanks.” I said accepting the plate of warm food from her, in return she gave me a living smile and ruffled my hair.

Great. Now I feel like more of a shit.

I poke the mini sausage and dip it into melted cheese before eating.

Ariel busies herself in cleaning the flower stalks, putting them on the waste basket and carrying it to wherever.

I don’t see her for the next half an hour.

I was still to conscript the courage to go to my friend and apologize for being an entitled asshole to her.

But I was coward mother fucker.

So I just sat there, the empty plate on the coffee table while I watched Tom And Jerry on mute.

The huge analogue clock hung on the wall, above the TV showed it was half past twelve.

Sighing, I got up from the sofa, collected my empty plate and walked to the kitchen.

Ariel was working on lunch, the roasted chicken had her undecided attention as she shredded the thing.

“Hey.” I acknowledged placing the crystal plate on the sink and washing it using dish soap.

“Hey.” She chirped back. “I’m making sandwich for lunch, you want something else?”

“Sandwich is fine.” I say with a shrug.

“Okay.” She mused. “I’ll add some Gorgonzola cheese in yours. You’ll love it. It’s spicy.”

“Okay.” I said leaning back against the kitchen counter where the petite women focused on her task.

“Were is Angelo?” I asked trying to eliminate the tensed silence the loomed over us.

“He went to the office, early.” She volunteered.

“I thought they only sat in the club.” I asked.

She shook her head. “They have offices. For formal meetings and stuff. Business stuff.”

I nodded.

“I get lonely around the house when Angelo isn’t here.” She added.

Why is she so sweet?

Why hasn’t she snapped on my face yet?

The slap I threw at her verbally last night should damn well make her angry.

But she seems as if everything was normal.

If it was me in her place, I’m pretty sure I would have snapped already.

“I’m glad you dropped by.” She nudged my playfully.

“Me too.” I smiled and watched her put the shredded chicken into a bowl.

“Do you want something specific for dinner?” She asked putting away the chicken in the fridge.

“Or shall I make whatever?” She asked wiping her hand in duck printed kitchen rag and rested against the counter.

I shrugged. “Whatever.”

She grinned. “All I can think about is Stuffed Braciole. I’ve been craving it all day.”

I nod.

The oven timer pings off as she uses the mitts to pull out a tray containing almost a twelve inch bread.

Baguette.

I don’t make a joke about her bread choice as she puts it on the counter and cuts it’s into half.

Proceeding to make her and mine sandwiches stuffing them with chicken, cheese, lettuce some vinegar-y sauce and some other condiments before handing one to me in a nice plate.

“Thanks, bubbles.” I say.

Fuck, I don’t deserve her after last night.

“It’s alright.” She says. “You want wine or something?”

I shake my head so she pours me a glass of cold water.

I carry my lunch to the TV room but Ariel doesn’t join me.

She probably hates me.

But five minutes later, I panic internally.

She did say her medications were affecting her.

Discarding my lunch, I walk toward the kitchen.

Ariel wasn’t there.

Her plate wasn’t there.

So I walked toward the indoor pool they had and watched out through the glass panels that was a sliding door to find her sitting on the grass, Coco by her feet while she talked on the phone.

Tentatively I approached the woman sitting on the grass, caressing her doggie’s head absentmindedly.

“No it’s fine.” She said in a sympathetic tone.

“It’s fine.” She said again. “Is she okay though? Should I come over?”

Who’s okay?

What’s wrong with who? I think.

“Oh, alright.” She says brows furrowing in worry. “Sure. Tell I said get well soon.”

“Sí. Take care. Bye.”

“Who was that?” I asked taking a seat beside her on the grass.

“Lorenzo.” She sighed. “Alyssa got sick last night-”

“Oh?” I frown.

She nods. “I hope she gets okay though, she was looking pale last night.”

I nod. “She’ll be better.

“I hope.”

I see she hasn’t ate a bite  of her sandwich, instead she puts the plate aside and rests her cheeks in her pulled up knees.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She hummed.

“Alyssa will be better.” I reassure.

“I know.”

She gets another call from Angelo.

They talk for a while. She lies about eating.

She lies about taking a nap.

Fuck is wrong with you bubbles?

“I’m fine.” She reassures the man on the other side cheerfully. “You needn’t worry-”

“I ate, I promise.” She prompts and then they fight for ten seconds and the she snaps fine at whatever she say and ends the call.

“Bossy bastard.” She mutters turning her phone off.

“Eat your food, Bubbles.” I reach for the plate and put it on her knees. “You’re sick.”

“I’m fine.” She mumbles taking a bite of her sandwich.

I tell Ariel to go take a nap and I’ll clean after her.

She says thank you and her petite form walks back into the house.

I take this time to eat my food and tidy up the already tidy kitchen and retrieve back to my room after checking up on Ariel.

She was curled up with Coco on her huge circle bed, the gauzy ornate down.

Fancy.

After I had failed successfully to apologise to my friend, I enter the guest bedroom and take a much needed shower to cool myself down.

Or wash away the guilt from me rather.

I dress myself in one of the dress that Ariel lend me and get back into the bed, curling up, pulling the weighted blanket over me.

The guest rooms were cute.

I wondered if Bubbles would mind if I cuddled her instead of weltering in my own puddle of self hatred.

I decided against it.

She’s not exactly in her perfect health and it’d better if I let her sleep.

There is TV in this room.

Not as big as the one downstairs, neither curved but big enough so I turn it on and settle on Tom And Jerry on mute.

The sound of my door opening makes me look at my right to see the intruder.

It wasn’t Ariel.

Roman stood on the doorway, one hand holding the golden door knob the other in his slacks pocket.

You are ignored.

I fix my eyes back on the TV, ignoring his looming presence in the room.

I heard the door shut quietly behind him.

Get out Roman.

He doesn’t.

He takes a seat on the edge of the bed and proceeds to take off his suit jacket.

The tension between us too much to bare.

My eyes already watering.

Why can’t he just fucking leave?

“Blaire.” He addressed me sitting cross legged on the bed.

“Go away.” I said moving away from his reach the cartoon still playing on the digital screen.

“Let me explain-”

“Fuck off, Roman.” I snapped.

“Blaire-”

“No.” I hissed slapping his hand away that was reaching toward me. “Get out.”

“Hear me, puppy.”

“I didn’t push you away, you fucked up bastard!” I yelled.

“Puppy.” He warned.

“Don’t puppy me, you fucking coward!” I yelled, my lip wobbling, tears threatening to leave my eyes.

His eyes hold annoyance and anger but he doesn’t say anything.

I suppose it made my already distraught self more mad.

“You stuck up coward, fucking bastard!” I cursed, fat ugly tears leaving me.

“Balire, I’m-” He breathes.

“Just leave.” I say waving my hand. “I don’t want to hear you or see you or - anything- just leave.”

He doesn’t.

“When- when Maria died, I felt a lot of me left with her.” Roman says.

“I lost- I lost quite a bit when I lost my fiancé, Blaire.” He sighs.

Fiancé?

“She was a light to me but then she became darkness, I found myself lost in it and last night- I- left like u was betraying my love. I was giving someone else her place-”

“What about the times when we had sex?” I ask.

He shook his head. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way, I have needs, you filled them, there wasn’t supposed to be gifts and kisses- I loved Maria.”

“Do you still?” I ask.

Fuck, stop breaking me Roman.

“A part of me will always be Maria’s Blaire.” He said. “You can’t change that.”

Then fuck off.

“Do you think you can feel like that again?” I asked tentatively.

I need to stop attracting pain toward me.

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to feel that way until last night.”

He looked at me.

“Come.” He whispered holding out a hand for me, I placed it in his crawling up to his lap.

Our lips met.

I felt fireworks.

“Roman.” I whispered, my fingers tangling on his lush hairs, lips soft and moist between mine.

Dancing. I sigh as he deepens the kiss, both palms cupping my cheeks as he slowly kisses me.

Soft and erotic.

“Roman.” I breathe.

Have to tell him.

“Quiet.” He orders whispering against my lips.

“Roman.” I breathe pulling away from his mouth.

“What?” He asks his palms still caressing my cheek.

I want this moment to last as long as I can to drag out.

“I did something wrong.” I whisper.

“What do you mean?” He asks frowning.

And as I explained what I said to Ariel the night before, I could see the spell that held between us was broke.

---

I’ll edit this later lmao. Bye.

Question:

Thought about Blaire rn?

November

29

“And which part was her fucking fault?” Roman asks his hand slowly leaving my hips.

The warmth that was spread all over my body is now hugging me like a cold fucking blanket.

“I told you, I didn’t mean any of it.” I say. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“You said it was her fault.” Roman repeats. “Which part?”

“Roman, I-”

“Ariel suffers from inferiority complex after what happens with her.” He asserts and then scoffs running both his hands through his perfectly styled hair.

I know what I did was perfectly stupid and outrageous on my part.

But he had to understand that I didn’t mean to lash out.

“You keep saying you didn’t mean to, you didn’t mean, have you tried apologising? Did you realise that the woman who was going through enough has now another burden to carry?” He asks.

“How was she this morning?” He asks abruptly.

“Fine.” I reply. “She was how she usually is.”

Roman nodded and then sighed.

“I don’t even have a viable reason for lashing out at her.” I whisper watching the swirling pattern of vines on the bedsheets.

“Apologise to her please.” Roman adds. “But I doubt everything would be okay between the two of you.”

“Why?” I ask. “I mean she’d surely understand. She isn’t like the ones who don’t understand-”

“She’ll constantly be on eggshells around you and me.” He says. “She’s sensitive. She’ll try and keep interactions limited and keep her distance.”

I nod my lip between my teeth.

Surely Bubbles will understand.

Bubbles isn’t the person not to understand.

Bubbles is what anybody would want as a perfect friend.

And a sister.

And last night was stupid of me.

I wish I had apologized to her, in the morning.

I’m such a coward.

I wish we had just enjoyed cake and talked shit about everything.

But I had to fuck up.

It was almost five in the afternoon.

Ariel was asleep.

It’d be stupid to call her awake just to make dinner given that she is sick.

She did look like she got zero sleep the night before.

“I’ll get dinner started.” I said to Roman scampering down the bed and walking out of the room, in the process of pulling my hair in a knot bun in top of my head.

Ariel had OCD. I’m pretty sure about that.

Her perfectly pristine kitchen was spotless.

I’m pretty sure mine would be yellow from the mess I would have made.

Her cabinets and walk in pantry was alphabetically organised with tiny labels and zero plastic.

Her cookbook was stack of printed papers in black and white.

I found the recipe of what she wanted to make and got to work.

It was almost nine when I had successfully prepared her stuffed braciole and what in the name of pasta spaghetti god that was.

It’s not even noodle-

Pasta.

They get offended being called noodle.

Ariel was still to be up.

Roman didn’t show his face since I walked down to the kitchen and the kitchen is damn right in no condition the way Ariel left it.

Great now I have to clean it.

After I had plated the food in four crystal plates and garnished them to look somewhat decent, I placed the on the table, set out a bottle of wine and ran through the stairs to call that dinner was ready.

I mean, we can start without Devil-o, right?

Even though it’s his house and whatever that means.

After telling Roman that dinner was ready, he says he was going to take a quick shower before joining us.

I padded quietly into Ariel’s room.

She was in the same position she was hours ago.

Coco not clutched to her chest anymore, instead the mutt was barking loudly at the window.

And when he saw me entering, he was barking at me running back and forth to me and Ariel.

I quickly crossed the distance between the bed and the doorway, took three steps that lead the way to the circular bed.

“Ariel?” I whispered shaking her gently.

“Hey, Bubbles?” I called still my voice was in check. Soft and gentle.

“Ariel?” I singsonged.

Her body had gone several degrees cold, her breathing swallowed.

Face and body pale, instead of the usual flushed one.

“Ariel?” I called with more urgency.

“Bubbles?” Moving the hairs from her face, I studied her expressionless sleeping form.

Something was wrong.

“Roman!” I yelled from the bedroom, still sitting beside the woman that was my sister from another mother.

“Roman!” At this point, I don’t know how much loud my voice was, but tears were down my face.

I had called his name for  a couple of times and at the last scream he appeared on the doorway  dressed in a flannel pajama, a shirt in hand.

I was rubbing Ariel’s palm trying to generate some warmth for her.

Coco was barking loudly and cowering every now and then, curled up against Ariel’s feet.

Wake up, Bubbles! I thought as I kept rubbing her palms.

Nothing was changing.

Her body was already stone cold, her pulse was low.

She was tired.

“Fuck this.” Roman said as his eyes found something on the bedside table. “She’s taken medication.”

My eyes went wide, my head a mess of thousand different emotions and a whirlpool of guilt.

Roman carried her out of the house, her body limp.

“I’m going to drive, and I want you to call Angelo, alright?” He asked getting into the passenger seat of the car slamming the door as I sat on the back with Ariel’s head on my lap.

“I need you to call Angelo and tell him we’re taking Bubbles to the hospital. Alright ?” He gently orders.

“And don’t panic.” He said handing me his phone.

I found Angelo’s contact and pressed dial.

“Boss?” He answered on the first ring.

Trying hard not to cry, I responded. “It’s uh- Blaire.”

He was silent.

He didn’t make and sarcastic remark or anything.

“Uh- Ariel, she fell a little sick, so we’re taking her to the hospital.”

“What do you mean sick?” I could hear the urgency in his voice.

“Just a little bit.” I say with as much as a calm tone I can muster.

“Blaire.” He warns.

I close my eyes.

Breathe Blaire.

“We’re taking her to the hospital. She’s fine.”

I don’t know who needed the assurance.

Him or me.

Maybe both of us.

I ended the call before he could say anything else.

Because I know, for this somewhat I am to be blamed, if not everything.

The car stops at the hospital gate.

We are scurried to an emergency room before the doctor rudely tells us to leave the patient alone with the examiners.

Angelo was frantic when he arrived.

His usual composed mien right now a right mess and anxious.

“What happened?” The question was directed toward Roman.

Roman grabbed Angelo’s upper arms and lead him out of my ear shot as I sat on the metal chairs lining the wall of the emergency room.

It has been an hour without any response from the doctors.

They were just taking too much time.

I had a mind to tell those fuckers to move aside and let me do the work, because I knew her better then they did.

They were probably drugging her up more.

I don’t trust them.

Roman and Angelo enters the waiting area of the emergency room after what it feels like an eternity.

Angelo wouldn’t even bother to look at me.

He had lost he suit jacket and now was almost looking distraught as if somebody has asked for a pound of his flesh.

Honestly, I probably would look the same given their history.

Roman sits beside me, still in his flannel pajama and t-shirt. Angelo keeps standing.

I’m tempted to stand up and give him my seat but there are a lot of chairs.

Guilt is a self destructive emotion.

I feel that now.

I feel as of Ariel’s health deterioration, no matter how minor or major has something to do with me and how I behaved last night.

It fills me with guilt.

And whatever feels me with more pain is I feel that Angelo knows all of it and he blames me and so he won’t even spare a glance at me.

He blames me for the possible loss of Ariel’s health improvement.

Mental as well physical.

A man, relatively tall and good looking exits the emergency room, his stethoscope in his hand as he advances towards the trio of ours.

“Ariel LaRuuso?” He asks in his thick Italian accent.

“Sí signore. Famiglia del paziente.” Angelo straightens up on his feet.

(Yes Sir. The patient’s family.)

“Lei sta bene?” He adds with his whatever he said.

(Is she okay?)

“At this point we hope she is okay. The Ambien you say was prescribed to you.”

“Sí.” Angelo nods.

“I’d be needing to ask a few questions, is she suffering for trauma or depression or anxiety that would lead to take her such a step?” He asks.

Angelo hesitates before answering. “Depression. Yes.”

“Is she in therapy?”

Angelo shakes his head.

“I’m sorry but all this, being the medication prescribed we have to file a suicide attempt on her medical folder.” The doctor says.

What were you thinking Bubbles?

“However, the patient is advice’s to be in therapy and we’ll be keeping her on a forty eight hour watch to see how she recovers, we’ll need a statement from Miss LaRusso and then debate if police should be involved or not.”

What a fucking joke. I think to myself.

This man wants to be buried twenty feet underground by tipping off the police?

The fuck is wrong with this man?

But Angelo’s response takes me by surprise.

He answers the doctor with a sí.

“When will she be conscious?” He asks.

“She is conscious.” The doctor says. “One of our therapists is recording her statement.”

“That’s absurd.” Roman roars. “Family should be informed first and then we decide if she gives statement or not.”

“Often the family’s involvement messes with the patients feelings and they find themselves wanting the affection and thinking that by false statement everything will be back normal, we vow to help our patients who are emotionally deranged.”

Emotionally deranged?

Like a mental person?

The audacity!

“You vow to brainwash your patients.” Roman accuses.

“Roman.” Angelo sighs. “Don’t make a scene.”

Roman scoffs. “They’re labelling her as a suicidal nut case.”

Exactly,

Devil-o

.

The doctor walks back into the emergency room leaving the brother argue among the brothers.

“She’s tried to end her life-” Angelo breathes as if it’s the hardest of all task.

“What would I ever do without her?” He adds.

I didn’t know what people said about their heart being broken  but I am pretty sure, I was seeing  a heartbreak right before my eyes.

The man that held power in his eyes had tears, swirling in his onyx orbs.

The man that stood taller was now slouching on the hospital hallway  as if he was standing on the last sand grain of the Earth.

Minutes later another lady doctor dressed in a white coat comes out of the emergency room.

“Hello.” She smiles. “We took a statement from Miss LaRusso. She says she didn’t know the medications were that much powerful and it would exhaust her body. She’s fine. We carried out some tests, she wasn’t over dosed, she was passed out from exhaustion, the medication and possible anxiety.”

Why was the doctor such an asshole.

“However we’re glad you brought her to the emergency, her situation was troubling but not a suicide attempt.” She smiled gently.

Angelo heaves a sigh of relief.

“Ariel says she feels fine to go home, but I suggest her to stay for almost a day to see if her health improves or deteriorates and then she’s free to go.”

“Grazie, doctor.” Angelo says visibly relaxed.

After the sweet lady leaves to wherever, I stand up rolling my eyes.

“What a fucking cunt.” I mumble to the male doctor that just classified Ariel as suicidal.

“Blaire.” Roman warns.

“He just pointed my little mermaid as suicidal!” I shriek. “Mermaids ain’t suicidal!”

“Blaire please.” Roman frowns. “That’s enough.”

Well my point was to get a reaction out of Angelo but he just pushes himself away from the wall and enters the hospital room.

Damn he really blames me don’t he?

“Do you think she’s okay?” I ask Roman tentatively.

“The doctor says she is alright.”

“I don’t like the man doctor.” I complain. “He said he’d go to the police.”

Roman stays silent sitting beside me.

I rest my head against his shoulder and say a prayer so that Bubbles is fine.

“I’m gonna go check on her.” I whisper before getting up.

“Please keep your tone gentle.” Roman says, his tone almost begging.

Well somebody has a soft spot for Ariel.

The thought somehow muddles me.

Ignoring Roman’s tone, I push open the door of the hospital room to find Angelo sitting on a chair beside a half laying Bubbles.

Her hand clasping both of his, as he rests his head against their intertwined hands.

They had a cannula on the back of her hand, and fluid bag, supplying her nutrients.

“Hey.” I smile at the pale, sick looking women.

“Hi.” She whispers.

I offer her a gentle smile.

Well as gentle as my face can muster and walk to the other side and clutch her other hand in mine.

“How you feeling, Bubbles?” I ask.

“Tired.” She replied licking her bottom lip. “They made me throw up a lot.”

I nod.

“But I’m so ready to go home.” She adds. “This places sickens me.”

And then she diverts her eyes toward Angelo and smiles.

He stays stationary in his place.

“He seems to be more distraught than I am.” She adds.

I see a glittering diamond band on her middle finger.

“This is cute.”  I say. “Did Devil-o give it to you?”

Ariel nods and then looks up me.

“You okay?” She asks.

“You gave me a bastard scare in the arsehole.” I say.

She giggles. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know the tablets are that powerful, a doctor suggested I go therapy for suicidal recovery.”

“Yeah.” I say. “He told us that too.”

“I may be- a little bit- wobbly? But I ain’t suicidal like what?” She shakes her head.

“I know-” I begun.

“We’re getting therapy, tadpole.” Angelo speaks up.

“Angelo-”

“No.” He shushes her. “I want you to go through therapy.”

“Why do I need to go through therapy?” She asks. “I’m fine- I just-”

“You know you’re not fine.” He says.

“And we’re changing up your doctor, I don’t like the bastard.” He adds letting go of her hand and standing up.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“I’ll talk to someone to change your doctor and then drive home to get an overnight bag for us.”

Ariel smiles and gives him a nod.

Ariel sits up more properly after Angelo leaves and sighs.

“They’re so adamant into get me in therapy.” She says. “What am I supposed to do in therapy?”

“Talk.” I say walking to the other side and taking the seat emptied by Devil-o.

“What am I supposed to talk about?” She asks. “I’m not suicidal or anything. I’m not even depressed.”

I frown.

“They think I am going through severe case of depression, I’m not.” She whispers. “I’m mourning.”

“Bubbles.” I hold her hand.

Mourning for that long is affecting your present and future. I want to tell but, I stay quiet.

“All I ever wanted was a family and love and look at me.” She whispers, her voice almost breaking.

It breaks my heart.

“Ariel.” I admonish. “You have a family. We are family. And you have love. I love you, Devil-o loves you and everybody else loves you.” I say still holding her hand.

“Listen to me.” I say roughly wiping away my tears.

“We’re one big crazy ass family.” I say.

“And when everything is alright, when everything is even better when we’re more grown up than we are now, you’ll have little monster of your own, okay?”

She looks at me, lips wobbling.

“If he left you, left us, it means he just wasn’t ready, whatever happened, you had nothing to do in that, Devil-o was a fucking cunt now Devil-o is sweet, so you’ll have whatever you lost, maybe better okay?”

She nods.

But I don’t know if she understands me or not.

“And now this big crazy as fuck family wants you to get better soon enough so we can have that pajama party tomorrow night, alright?”

Laughing through her tears she nods.

I wipe the tears away from her face.

“You’re okay, Ariel.” I say repeating the words she said to me last night.

“You’re okay and we’re okay and we’ll be better.”

She nods clutching my hand.

“And I’m sorry for how I reacted last night.” I say.

“That was disrespectful and stupid and juvenile of me.”

“It’s okay, bub.” She says. “You had to tell somebody at some point.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“I’m still okay.”

I kiss her head and climb on the bed, snuggling her.

Sometime after Roman enters the hospital room with two thermos in his hands.

“The doctor told you eat, before the nights medication.” He announced handing Ariel a cup of soup and other for me.

“It’s cafeteria soup, have this while the inn delivers. Angelo will be back soon.”

“Thank you, Roman.” Ariel says grateful.

“It’s alright, sorella.” He says taking a seat in the other tool. “You gave us a scare.”

(Sister.)

“Honestly?” She makes a face sipping the broth-y soup from the thermos.

“For a man who kills for a living-” She gives a judgemental tilt of her head.

It makes me smile.

Get better Bubbles.

By the time we’re finished with the broth-y soup for sick people, Angelo enters the room, carrying a black leather overnight bag.

“You can retrieve.” He says to Roman. “I’ll take it from here.”

Roman nods getting up and hugs Devil-o for almost a minute.

That’s the longest hug I’ve seen to be shared between the two of them.

“I wish you could stay the night.” Ariel says pouting when I get down from the bed.

“Angelo will only boss me around, I’m sure. He’s no fun” She shakes her head.

“I’ll come back in the morning.” I say with a kiss on her head.

After we leave the hospital Roman helps me into the passenger seat of his car and slips into the driver’s seat.

“You look shook.” He asserts starting the ignition.

I feel shook.

I feel guilty and sad and scared.

Mostly scared.

“I feel whatever happened- I played a role in whatever happened tonight. With Ariel.”

“It’s not your fault, Blaire.” He said. “She didn’t know those pills were harmful.”

“If I didn’t yell and blame her, she probably needn’t to take the medicine in the first place.” I say.

Roman stayed silent.

“I feel guilty for whatever happened to her.” I add. “I wish she was better emotionally.”

“She was almost broken after she lost her child.” Roman says. “It broke her, it somewhat broke Angelo too, I suppose- he wouldn’t show it, it wouldn’t address it, he’s like that.”

“He’s stupid.” I retort.

“He fears he’ll end up as his father.”

“Lorenzo?” I ask.

“No. Not Lorenzo.” Roman says.

Lorenzo isn’t his father?

“His biological father. Mama’s older brother. My uncle.”

“Y’all blood related?” I ask.

He nods.

“So-”

“It’s a story for another day, puppy.” He says abruptly taking my hand in his hold, bringing them to his lips, he kisses my knuckles gently.

That small action leaves me flushed.

“Let’s go for a drive. It’ll clear your head.”

“Sure.”

With that Roman downs the roof of the car, and slowly speeds through the main road, leading wherever.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

OKAY, so first things first  I am sorry for lashing out like a two year old on the other book It was immature and juvenile to put my words out like that.

I am so sorry. So very sorry.

So here is an update for Blaire so y’all can forgive me for being mean and all.

I hope to make up to y’all and probably this is all I can do right?

And also I’d like to say that I don’t write for getting views and votes.

The votes and comments help me to wrote and feel giddy to update that “ omg

! They like is so much,

i’ma

do a double update cause they so good to me .“ That’s the closest I feel when I see votes and comments.

And views like reads, Y’all mostly five people can read my book and leave some good/bad/positive/negative feedback, I’ll still feel giddy to update.

Okay, that’s all I had to say in my defense.

Y’all gimme my verdict.

Question :

How do you think Balire and Roman will flourish?

Will Ariel and Blaire’s friendship be like before?

-November.

30

When Blaire sleeps, it feels like the whole Napoli had gone silent.

A perfectly heart shaped mouth, protrudes to a pout in her sleep as she moves around to find a comfortable spot under the silk coverlets.

Her face radiated a serene glow of satisfaction even though her brows were furrowed, an indication to some sort of discomfort.

I pushed her dark hair off her face making her sigh, her blessed chest was mashed to the mattress as she slept on her back.

Naked , under the blanket.

After our errands of night, Blaire seemed to more tired than usual and so she called it quits early.

Tensed by the declination of health of her closest friend, she was way too tensed and rigid.

I asked if she was holding up okay, still emersed deep into her warmth.

Breathless, the dark haired woman nodded.

But the tension was crystal clear in her features.

So believing it’s best for her to rest I decided to stop.

She fell asleep shortly after. While I was left with the screaming silence of the workload that was upon me with Angelo’s absence.

Even though he was assisting staying at hospital for day and night himself, I felt like a traitor burdening him with more baggage than he should carry.

Pushing my form off the bed, bare feet I strode toward my study.

I was debating if Blaire should be moved back to the estate from the Inn’s suite or should we just live here.

Staying at the estate is no doubt, luxurious and safe and more personal.

But at this moment, staying at the estate meant staying on constant hot spot of the family’s eye.

Namely, my mother first and foremost.

The woman’s excitement, to say scares me, would be an understatement.

Point blank, her excitement terrified me and this new arrangement with Blaire is to excite her more.

Even though my words and emotions unspoken and invisible, she is my mother.

She sees right through me and every other man she has raised along with me.

Sitting on the leather bound chair, I pulled the stack of papers that is supposedly tomorrow’s schedule.

Board meeting. I scratch out a cancel using a pencil.

A board meeting without Angelo will go to the dogs .

Meeting with the Richardson enterprises- cancel.

The family doesn’t need more drama as of this moment.

The Richardson’s only brings drama. Canceled till the end of the year. I add on a side note.

Shipment from Greece. Check. Five in the morning. I dial a Capo’s cell and let him know about the shipment.

The men will be there. He says.

“Four thirty.” I order. “Sharp. Secure the marina, loose some unoriginal product, distract the police, I want it in my storage by ten.”

“Yes boss.” The man from the other side of the phone just before I end the call and toss the phone on the cherry oak desk top, moving to the next appointment.

Adrian and Julien- at eleven o’clock, virtual from America.

As much as I want to cancel the meeting and tempted to do so, I keep it in check.

I couldn’t afford them to mess up again by leaving them on their own.

I’ve paid the price by leaving them to their job, and the next thing I know is my firewall had been shattered by an amature hacker.

I check it moving toward the next on the list when my phone vibrates .

Ariel.

I look at the time.

Precisely ten minutes to two O’clock.

Why is she calling in the middle of the night?

My first thoughts aren’t positive as I answer the device.

“Hello?” I ask, my voice cautious.

“Boss?” Angelo’s voice erupts from the other end of the network.

“Is there an issue?” I ask frowning and looking at the lit screen of my laptop.

“It would appear so.” Angelo says, his voice tinted with the unfulfilled sleep.

“What’s wrong?” I ask my brows furrowed.

“There is a private number calling Ariel.” He states.

“I’ve had Eli to trace the number and also get Ariel’s records, the number have been calling her for a while.” He adds, tension evident in his voice.

“What does her recording say?”

Is he doubting Ariel? I suspect mentally.

“There are no recordings.” He says.

“None. She’s never picked up but by some unbelievable chance, I happened to picked up the call. Utter silence.”

“Suspicious.” I reason. “Nothing?”

“I got nothing.” He sighs. “Eli hasn’t been finished with the searches yet.”

“It will be a lot clearer when he finds a result.” I reassure.

“I suspect, it’s another anonymous attack.” Angelo says.

“It could be family.” I reason. “She comes from money.”

Ariel comes from a thick load of money.

Her papa is no joke when it comes to business.

Angelo stays silent for a second.

“They haven’t contacted her in years.” He adds. “Or so I know.”

“How is she holding up?” I ask changing the topic from a possible virtual attack.

Or so he thought.

But it could be anyone.

Family, old friend. Old boyfriend.

Old partner.

Some body that still held her back in her past.

“She seems fine.” Angelo mumbles. “The doctors put her to sleep.”

I nod.

“I’m glad.” I reply.

“Me too.” He exhales.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Angelo.” I say leaning back against the back rest of my chair.

He stays silent but I do hear him exhale out of exhaustion.

“You’re beat yourself too much.” I add.

“Try not to, it will push her into a deeper state of self chastisement.”

“I suppose.” He breathes.

“I’ll let you go, I’ve gone through the Richardson thing already so don’t bother with that, I’m working on the oil company files and I’ve placed order to the Russian mafia through Mikhail Ivanov, so don’t exert with that either-” He adds.

“Are you alright?” I ask concerned.

“Just alright.” Angelo sighed.

“I realised the luxury of sleep don’t hit me tonight.” He added.

“Maybe you should have an ambien-” I joke.

“Funny, Roman.” He said, and I heard the shuffling of papers. “I can’t stop laughing.”

His voice dry.

“Buona notte, Angelo.” I roll my eyes and sigh. “Get some sleep.”

“Buona notte.” He replies and the line goes dead before I place the device back on my desk and go back to cut short my schedule.

“You’re still here.” I hear after some long moments of silence.

My eyes trained to the computer screen catching up on the reports I missed today.

I averted my eyes to find Blaire leading against the doorway, her head resting against the door frame, her lean body covered with the shirt I discarded earlier.

“Still here.” I agree diverting my eyes from her sleepy tired figure and into the computer screen.

“Have you heard from the hospital?” She asks tiredly, pushing herself off the frame and walking over to the table.

I turn my chair so she can sit on my thigh.

And so we’ve been sitting like that quite a lot.

“Yes.” I answer to her question.

Lazily her head drops on my shoulder, dark tendrils of hair covering her face.

“How is she?” Blaire asks.

“Angelo said she was fine.” I reply.

I feel her nod, head still on my shoulder as she gives out a small yawn.

“You should go to bed.” I say opening another folder to check up the last of tonight’s work.

“Sleep is barely coming to me.” She whispers. “I can’t think of anything else.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Blaire.” I say for the nth time this night.

“I feel like it is.” She mumbles. “Why did I even treat the woman like she was my sworn enemy?”

For that, I have no answer, Blaire. I want to say.

But than realise it’s better to keep it to myself.

“I suppose, I’m envious.” She mumbles.

Envious?

“Envious of what?” I ask, slightly vexed.

“Of Ariel.” She whispered. “In some places.”

Her words make me frown.

“Such as?” I ask.

“Such as-” She sighs. “I don’t know, she’s perfect.”

“Perfection is in the eyes of the beholder.” I retort.

“Yeah.” She scoffs. “And I suppose you do have a soft spot for the woman?”

“You’re envious of Ariel because I have a soft spot for her?”

She raises her face, tired but striking blue eyes staring back at me.

“Don’t you?” She asks.

“Have I ever denied it?” I ask.

“Ariel is family. Ariel is with Angelo.” I add.

“Still doesn’t answer my question.” She scoffs.

“I have affections for Ariel in the same way a brother would have affections for his sister, Blaire.”

“Whatever, Roman.” She says getting down from where she was seated.

“Are you going to be this difficult right now?” I ask watching her form.

“I’m not being difficult.” She snaps.

“An entitled hellcat then.” I say with a raised eyebrow.

Blaire’s movement stops on her tracks as she turns to face me with rage boiling in those blue eyes.

“Did you call me a bitch?” She asks, jaw muscle jumping slightly from her clenched teeth.

“I do not have to repeat for you.” I say going back to my computer.

“You asshole.” She accuses. “Fucking bastard, how dare you?”

“You always do this.” She snaps. “Just when I think we’re past that just fucking thing-”

“I do what exactly?” I ask.

“I didn’t wake up in the middle of the night to complain about a woman who gave me food and a roof over my head when needed and than be insecure like a fucking teenager.” I add.

“Grow up, Blaire.” I say.

“Oh right.” She sniffs, tears swirling in her blue eyes. “Of course I need to grow up, don’t I?”

Is this woman for real right now?

I haven’t said one word apart from that to make her react like she is doing.

What does she need actually?

What does she expect?

I had told her what this arrangement was and then she goes- like this.

“What the fuck do you want?” I ask, pushing back my chair, standing up.

Her lip wobbles, eyes burning in mine.

“What the fuck do you want, Blaire?” I repeat.

“What the fuck do you want?” She hisses back.

“One moment you’re sweet and listening and the next moment you call me a bitch-”

“I didn’t call you a bitch.” I defend.

If I had to call her a bitch , I would have called her a bitch .

“They mean the same!” She yells. “You’re just an asshole!”

And so she keeps repeating like a broken fucking record.

“I thought we were taking steps.” She yelled again.

Well one step forward ten step back for you, Blaire.

“Roman!” She yells when I don’t answer to her and take my seat back focussing my attention back to my computer.

“What’s wrong with you?” She asks.

“What’s wrong with you?” I retort.

“You’re being pointless and illogical. Go to bed.”

“I’m not a kid!”

“Stop acting like one and fucking go to bed, we’ll talk in the morning.”

“Whatever.” She spats, turning on her heels and stomping out of the office leaving me alone.

Sighing, I rest my elbows in the desk top, fingers massaging my temple.

It’s been an overly stressful day.

And even more stressful night.

I thought Blaire was fine.

I thought, me doing something for her was fine.

Like taking her on a drive for almost

two hours

was fine.

But I fail to determine what she really wants.

What is it she really wants?

And if she wants something why can’t she ask for it like a normal person?

I can not break down her requirements and expectations.

Does she want to have what Ariel and Angelo does?

Is that what she wants?

She wants me to treat her like how Angelo treats Ariel?

They’ve gone a long away back and forth, in order to have what they have right now.

It’s not something that one person establishes after one kiss and one drive through the night and after enormous amount of mindless sex.

Things such as these take time.

These take moments and connection.

At this point I fail to find a connection between me and Blaire at all.

Acting like she is, she’s putting everything in uncertainty.

Her jealously and insecurity regarding Ariel is not helping to push those uncertainty away.

And it’s putting doubts in my head.

Regrading everything.

Sighing I turn back to the computer, focusing my attention back.

But all that makes my head spin is Blaire’s childishness.

If she could just what was wrong and what was making her feel this way.

How can she be envious of a woman who belongs to another man?

A woman who is her only friend.

A woman who has been a support for her since day one?

A woman who I consider a sister?

I leave the study around half past three in the morning and retrieve to one of the three guest bedrooms that the royal suite offers.

Standing before the bay window, I lit a cigarette.

The fresh scent of the citrus air freshener is dominated by the inebriated smell of nicotine as I blow steams of smoke into the room.

It was almost four when I felt sleep would be welcomed if I laid down.

Squishing the bottom of my second cigarette on an ashtray, I debate if sleep is what I need.

Undoubtedly yes.

I’m not Angelo.

I cannot function forty eight hours without sleep.

First meeting is at nine fifty so I could welcome four hours of undisturbed sleep, if I tried.

Or if Blaire hasn’t set the whole damn property on fire.

I open the windows to let the fresh dawn air inside the room, eliminating the smell of nicotine from the closed off air.

Not bothering to check up on Blaire or what she is doing, I strip off my shirt and lay on my back, in the middle of the queen sixed bed, covered with silk sheets.

Hands tucked under my head, eyes closed, I try to welcome the luxury of sleep.

“Roman?” I hear my name whisper.

It’s a sweet voice.

Maria ?

I try to open my eyes from my deep slumber.

“Are you awake?” I hear.

It’s not Maria . I think.

Maria doesn’t

smell like

this.

My senses finally awakening.

“Blaire?” I ask, squinting to adjust to the bright lightning of the room.

I remember the room being dark and never turning on the lights.

The bed dips and the smell of her herbal essence shampoo evade my space.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles, her cheek pressed on the naked skin of  my chest.

“I reacted like a stupid person.” She adds. “I didn’t know what came over and I doubted-”

“Your doubts are meaningless.” I say.

“I know.” She whispers.

“I just want to say, I understand, it was my fault, I’m sorry for being such an immature person.”

“It’s alright.” I say.

“Are you sure?” She asks, her eyes looking up to meet my half closed ones.

“Yes.” I reply.

She brings our lips together, abruptly and suddenly. It takes me by surprise, mine barely alive to move against her soft ones.

She takes her moment to devour my mouth.

I let her.

Her small slender hands trail upwards, from my waist to my neck before, Blaire pushes herself more closer to me.

Her hand around my shoulder, covered heat pressed against my evident arousal.

I’m not getting any sleep am I? I think. My mind half working with her mouth pressed against mine.

“I’ll let you sleep.” Blaire breathes heavily pulling away from my mouth.

I open my eyes, to lazily gaze down at her.

Her pale cheeks were flushed, eyes hazy and mouth giving a tiny smile.

“When do you have to be up?” She asks.

“Eight.” I clear my throat looking up at the ceiling, averting her intense yet somehow sweet gaze.

“I’ll wake you up at eight.”

I feel her getting comfortable beside me.

Her slim fingers rhythmically massaging my scalp, lulling me back to sleep once again.

Blaire doesn’t get to wake me, the following morning.

I wake up at seven thirty finding the space beside me empty.

But the crumpled sheets an evidence that last night Blaire apologising wasn’t in fact a haze or a disturbed dream.

Walking into the master bedroom and into the ensuite bathroom I ponder the situation of last night.

I take a much required shower washing away the tiredness with warm water before dressing up for the say.

I choose a three piece navy blue suit, leaving the top buttons on the shirt open before walking out toward the kitchen.

That’s where I find Blaire these days.

Experimenting about the stove and the oven, with my mother cookbook wide open.

She says she is to photocopy it and give it back.

She’s yet to do that.

Nevertheless the ritual of ordering food from the restaurant was almost ceased instead there would be a grocery list for every other day.

Sometimes the results of Blaire’s experiment would be salivating, sometimes bearable.

And sometimes she’d watch me take a bite before cringing and throwing the whole dish away and order from the restaurant.

Often it turned out good.

Which I was glad for, it kept her new obsession going.

As long as she’s not tinkering with computers and being a trainspotter, messing with my security system or any other security system, I would say we were fine.

I’d rather have her cussing at the dishes than watch her cause havoc on firewalls and bringing millions worth down.

The woman is unhinged .

And dangerous . Point blank.

As much as I didn’t want to admit.

“Good morning.” Blaire greeted as I entered the kitchen.

“I made your coffee, it’s on the station.” She said, hurriedly turning back to her work station.

She was yet to shower and change from her night clothes.

There was a jute bag in the dining table.

“What are you doing?” I ask picking up my café latte from the station and taking a warm sip.

“I’m getting breakfast ready.” She said walking back to the counter, a plate of sandwiches on her hand as she places those in a container.

“Drop me at the hospital on your way.” She says putting the cooked goods into containers.

Sandwiches, chickpea salad, rolls of cheese stuffed bread, a bottle of prune juice.

“You want to go to the hospital?” I ask.

Is she the same person from last night?

Wasn’t she envious of Ariel as per her confessions last night?

I fail to understand.

Surely her issue isn’t Ariel.

“Why not?” She asks, tendrils of losses hair had escaped her bun at the top of her head.

“Ariel can’t digest hospital food, you’ve seen what they serve.”

I nod cautiously and take a seat on the barstool sipping my coffee before she places a plate of food in front of me.

“I’ll go shower just quick.” She says running to the bedroom to shower and whatever she does.

It takes fifteen minutes for Blaire to get ready and shower, another ten minutes to put the containers into the jute bag before we leave the suite together.

I drop her to the hospital and enter myself to see if Angelo and Ariel was alright before leaving.

Blaire stays.

“I’ll uh- have someone pick you up  at whenever.” I say tucking my hands on my slack pockets.

She nods.

“See you.” I fidget.

Do I kiss her?

Will that be alright to do that?

Is that what she wants?

“See you, Roman.” She says placing a peck against my lips.

That seals it.

“I’ll see you later, Blaire.” I say with a nod making my way out of the hospital.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

So, y’all wanted a Roman POV. Idk how to feel about this but yeah, I tried my best. So-

Also to those who don’t know this is a three book series, with this being the first

The Under Boss’s Ballerina is the second

The Mob Boss’s Other woman is the third

So please, pretty please check those Two books out.

My Instagram is ___

nov

ember__

PS; I updated 28 mins early. Good job me!

QUESTIONS:

Thoughts about the first chapter of Leonidas’s book ie, The Mob Boss’s Other Woman?

-November.

31

Roman was so stupid. I thought closing the hospital door behind me.

His stupidity regarding this was almost to the point I’d call cute .

He was confident when it came this sexual activities that defined lust but a small act such as a kiss made him tentative and ambivalent- it was cute .

Ariel raised an eyebrow as I entered back into the room.

Somehow Roman had managed to convince Devil-o to go home and get some sleep and some food.

For that I was thankful.

God knows, the man looked like he needed some sleep.

He looked like a fucking zombie and I-

I detested zombies with a passion. Thank you, very much.

“So?” Ariel prompted.

“So?” I asked raising an eyebrow taking a seat on the metal chair placed beside the bed.

“You’re flushed.” She stated.

I ignored her statement with a roll of my eye, digging into the bag, bringing up a container of chick pea salad.

Ariel groaned.

“Is this a mission fatten Ariel up?” She asked as I handed her the small container and a spoon.

“It’s mission bring Ariel back to health.” I said. “Eat up.”

“I just had breakfast-” She reasons.

“Two hours ago, hon.” I reply.

“I don’t want to stay here, no more.” She cried stabbing a slice of cucumber on the container and putting it in her mouth.

As long as she eats.

“So what have you been up to?” She asks with a mouthful of salad.

Her body was clad in a hospital gown, falling on the sides of her shoulder.

It made her look more sick than she was.

I had half a mind to change her outfit into a sparkly stripper dress with her iconic heels while she got checked up by the doctors.

“Nothing much.” I reply.

“You and Roman, I meant.” She corrects herself.

“Fine.” I chuckle. “I suppose.”

“Fine is good.” She nods putting spoonful of chickpea.

I nod.

For once I feel at loss of topic to talk to Ariel.

There hasn’t been this sort of hesitation between us before.

And now, even though I don’t hold back, we are at a loss for topic to converse.

Is that what happens when you lash out on your best friend?

I think back to last night.

How I so stupidly accused Roman and Ariel.

Even though he said he felt for Ariel like a sister.

I suppose, I am being irresponsible and illogical.

Mixed with childish.

“Bubbles?” I ask holding her left hand in mine.

“Hm?” She hums moving the contents of the salad around.

“Thank you for taking care of me that night.” I say, pulling our intertwined hands to my cheek.

“Bub- I barely did anything.” She shakes her head.

“You made me hot chocolate and gave me a warm bed.” I say feeling  my throat tighten and words almost stuck.

Why is it so hard to admit your own fault and apologise? I think.

“It’s alright, Blaire.” She smiles patting my cheek with her other hand. “It’s okay. That’s what you’d do for me too.”

Would I ? I question.

I’ve been an awful friend and a horrible person to her.

I nod. “Let me know if Devil-o is mean, we can have hot chocolate and cake and bitch about him.”

She giggles.

I am pretty sure I see tears in her eyes but she shakes her head.

“Who else would I blabbe to any way?” She smiles.

“You don’t have to thank me or anything.” She adds.

I nod, swallowing my own saliva.

“Well-” I shrug. “I have something to tell.”

“Oh?” She frowns.

“So-” I breathe.

Last night after Roman and I’s fight I couldn’t bring myself to fall asleep again.

All that I kept listening in my head was the cusses and insults that we threw each other.

Insults that I threw at him and caused a scene.

So I did what I usually do. Fired up the monitoring program.

“So, I’ve been tinkering around the club CCTV-”

“Again?” She asks. “Blaire-”

“Hear me out.” I prompt ignoring her concerned tone.

“I saw Pink and Baguette together.”  I say. “I mean it was past two and certain parts of the club is open throughout the night, and I saw Anne talk to Pink-”

“Did you hear what they were talking about?” Ariel frowned, obviously curious.

“CCTV doesn’t have a sound recording, anyway, so I suspect Anne is gathering allies.”

Ariel shrugs. “They’re both quite the weird cases if I am honest, social climber, if you may-”

I nod.

Even if they weren’t little social climbers they surely acted like them.

I was thinking of sharing the fact with Roman first but he was already mad at me.

If he hears one of my crazy theories again, he will probably be more angry than he was last night.

Given that our outing to the club to catch whatever culprit went to waste and caused a disaster , I doubt Roman will agree with me once again.

“Have you talked to Roman?” She asks with a frown.

I shake my head.

“I don’t know, bub.” She sighs.

“What you say makes sense because I found stains and scent on Angel’s shirt and Pink was wearing the same perfume, and that’s why I had her cornered-”

“Maybe Anne is paying Pink?” She muses.

It may be.

It may not be.

When that scene with Angelo happened, I was still watching the live CCTV.

Partly I was watching what the bitch was doing and if she had lost her marbles or what?

Because no woman throws herself on a taken man but whatever right?

Pink wasn’t intoxicated .

Angelo was and so far from the CCTV footage it looked like pink was taking advantage of a very very high Angelo.

Also, I wanted to see if Angelo would- get on with Pink.

He didn’t and I feel better about him, that he didn’t.

“Beside that what is Pink’s motive anyway?” Ariel rolls her eyes.

“Bub- Pink is obsessed with Devil-o.” I retort. “So is Anne.”

And with Roman.

“A lot of woman is obsessed with Devil-o

, Blaire.“ Ariel reasons.

“That’s no reason-” She starts.

The door of the hospital room was pushed open as a nurse wheeled a trolley inside followed by a doctor.

“Hello Ariel.” The lady doctor smiles while the nurse busies herself in setting up the IV stand.

“Hello, Miss Rossi.” Ariel says rolling up the sleeve of her gown.

“How do you feel, Darling?” She asks grabbing a sugar measuring kit.

“Better than I was yesterday, thank you.”

The doctor makes small random talk with Bubbles as the nurse adjusts a cannula to her upper arm and connects the fluid bag with the help of a pipe.

The doctor scribbles her ratings down before turning to me with a smile.

“Ariel will feel a bit high as her body adjusts to the medicine.” She announces, making me nod slightly.

“It will take almost two hours for her to fall asleep and we’ll remove that bag after it’s fully drained.”

“Sure.” I said standing up, offering her a smile.

“And uh- no food or drink till then, if you will, please.”

I nod. “How are her other reports?”

“Perfectly fine and normal. After the patient is up, we will go through a full thorough check up and she should be allowed to go home by lunch, tomorrow.”

“Of course, ma’am.” I smiles as the doctor offers me a nod before leaving.

“It’s so stupid.” Ariel moans with a pout. “Why do I need saline bags?”

“Shush bubbles.” I say stoking her hair back from her face.

“Try to sleep.” I add.

She nods.

But the calmness is short lived when Coralyn and Alyssa enters the room.

“Poor thing.” Alyssa says dropping her bag on the floor and walking to the other side of Ariel.

“Hi sweetheart.” She cooed running her knuckle through the girls cheek.

“Hi.” Ariel replies. “How are you?”

“I am good.” Alyssa smiles leaning to place a kiss in her head. “Are you too tired, darling?”

Ariel shakes her head as I help her sit back up.

“She just got hooked.” I answer Alyssa. “It’ll take time to fall her sleep, she might be a little woozy.”

“That’s painful.” Cora mumbles. “I am so sorry we didn’t get here sooner, love.”

“It’s okay.” Ariel says. “Blaire’s been with me since morning.”

’That’s good, love.“ Alyssa smiles.

Damn!

It makes me feel more bad about having Janice as a mother.

I can’t imagine her showing this much concern over me, let alone somebody who wasn’t her way to the family wealth and treasure.

Shaking my head I ignore the thoughts and focus on this chit chat our ours till Ariel goes to sleep.

When Roman left he said that, he’ll have someone pick me up whenever, but it surprised me when he comes himself.

“I thought you were going send the driver.” I say slipping into the passenger seat of the car, as he fires up the engine.

“Well-” Roman dons a pair of leather gloves. “I thought you’d rather be a little more content .”

I roll my eyes.

“That’s not what my intention was.” I add.

“I thought we could go for a late lunch.” He said.

His words take me by surprise.

“You are going to take me for lunch?” I ask, my eyebrows hitting my hairline.

“Why is that so surprising?” He asks, his eyes firmly in on the road, voice impassive.

“I thought you didn’t do gifts and flowers, Don Roman.” I tease.

“It’s not gifts and flowers.” He reasons. “It’s just lunch, eat or leave.”

“Fine.” I roll my eyes.

“For a man asking to have a late lunch with me you sure are impassionate.” I add haughtily.

“Do you want me to get on my knees?”

While that would be a sweet sweet sight to watch but no. I think mentally.

“It would’ve been nicer.” I shrug.

Roman doesn’t reply instead the rest of our drive goes normal and silent before he halts the car in front of a restaurant.

It wasn’t extravagant or anything.

Just a local restaurant, serving food and wine.

I get out following Roman and walk inside, with his palm pressed on my lower back protectively.

A waiter leads us to a table at the back of the restaurant beside window, so we could easily witness the bustling activities of the street.

“Would you like to order or shall I order for you?” He asks picking up the laminated menu card and reading through.

“Please.” I say politely.

With his hand raised he calls for a waiter and orders in Italian before muttering a thank you and turning to me.

“How was your day?” He asks, his intertwined fingers resting on the tabletop.

“Good.” I reply. “How was yours?”

“Good.” He answers with a nod of his head.

Weird .

“Roman-” I sigh.

He turns he gaze to me from where he was watching the busy street outside though the glass panel of the window.

“I’m genuinely sorry for how I reacted last night.” I say in a whispery voice.

I fucking hate how hard it feels to apologise when I am the one wrecking devastation.

Ariel is in the hospital because of my behaviour .

Devil-o is beat.

And I have hurt this man sitting in front of me.

I don’t think he had a temper last night. I suppose he was hurt .

“I am sorry for hurting you.” I add. “And accusing you.”

“I realised what you wanted, Blaire.” He retorts waving my apology off.

“You say you’re envious of Ariel.” He says. “You aren’t envious of Ariel, you’re envious of the situation she is in.”

His statement leaves me in shock. My cheeks burn from the heat raising up.

“But I would like you to understand that Ariel has gone way back and down and up to be where she is. She has felt sentiments and emotions you haven’t.” He clarifies.

“She has had her heart broken, her child ripped out of her womb, her world crumbled to find that slight peace of mind that she resides in right now, Blaire.” He adds.

I open my mouth, prepared for a comeback only to close it back again.

Ten seconds.

Twenty.

Silence.

“I never said I was envious of Ariel.” I break the silence that looms over us like a raining cloud.

“That’s what you precisely said last night.” He repeats. “You said you were envious of her in some places.”

I said that. Didn’t I?

Stupid Blaire.

“I suppose.” I sigh. “But that is why I am apologising for, aren’t I?”

“I’ve given it a thought, Blaire.” He says.

“And- I realised that instead of being jealous like a thirteen year old teen, you can thank God, that what she went through, you never did and possibly never have to.” He adds.

“You’re right.” I say, desperate to bury the hatchet and leave it at that.

“I am glad you understand.” Roman says. “Let’s enjoy the lunch and just forget about it.”

With a smile I nod.

Minutes after a waiter sets our table with a pizza tray, a plate of roasted artichoke and slices I’d garlic bread.

“Grazie, signore.” Roman thanks the elderly man who leaves the table with a gentle smile after delivering our order.

Roman helped me a thick slice of pizza on my plate while I took a slice of garlic bread and some crispy artichokes and began to devour the food.

Should wait for him to start as well.

God, I wish I took Janice’s etiquette class well.

“Quite a cheese fan, aren’t we?” Roman teased when I used the fork to scrape up some cheese from the pizza slice and put it in my mouth.

“Love it.” I replied, relishing the taste of the melted hot, salty condiment.

Chuckling roman shook his head pouring a glass of wine for us both before taking a sip.

“I was wondering.” I replied after a moment of silence, having eaten half of my first sliced pizza.

“What about the Anne case?” I asked.

“Anne case?” He frowned. “What about Anne?”

“Don’t you still believe Anne is behind all the stupidity that took place before?”

“Innocent till proven guilty, Blaire.” He says. “And that’s how it will be.”

“I don’t trust her.” I said. “Neither do I trust Pink.”

“Avena has zero power, pup.” Roman says partly annoyed.

“And even if you doubt her for having an eerie obsession with Angelo she lacks power to bring anything that is under his protection.”

She’s just a dancer after all.

I doubt dancers have too much connection to the inside family to pull a stunt.

But Anne does.

I can’t, no matter what remove the doubt that has latched on to my head regarding that woman and her intentions.

Roman’s phone buzzes in his pocket making him sigh and drop the pizza from his hand on the plate.

“Give me a minute.” He says pulling out the slim device and answering it.

His expression reflects that of slightly annoyance and displeasure.

“Uncle Aron?” He answers using a tissue to clean his fingers.

“Yes, why?” He asks, the frown resting on his face permanently.

“Everything is fine, yes.” He replies. “Of course, mama Alyssa is alright.”

Silence die a while, his jaw clenches and relaxes while he listens to his uncle.

“Sí. I’ll- I’ll let Angelo know and take care of it.”

Roman stays silent several moments after he ends the call with his uncle.

I predict this Uncle Aron either from his mother’s or father’s side is Angelo’s dad.

And from his reaction- well lack of reaction , I can say they don’t get along very well.

“Is everything okay?” I asked.

Roman assessed my question for good thirty seconds before sighing and shaking his head.

“Would you want to tell me?” I ask serving him another pizza slice.

He sighs and a smile graces the corner of his lips.

“Would you like to listen?” He asks.

“I have time.” I shrugged making him chuckle in return.

“That was Angelo’s dad.” He says pocketing the phone.

Figured .

“They don’t get along well?” I ask.

Roman scoffs.

“Can’t stand them, I take.” I reply.

Typical

Devil-o

.

“So what’s the issue? They hate each other, happy ending.” I add.

“We’d be thankful if it were that easy.” Roman says.

“Personally I wish it were that easy, but it isn’t, Aron wants to include Angelo in the family, Angelo doesn’t really care and um- Aron has been a little bit- emotionally weak for mama Alyssa these days.”

It makes me roll my eyes. “Alyssa is getting married.”

Period. She loves Lorenzo.

She’s been with Lorenzo for twenty nine years , I have no idea how they are together for twenty nine years, even though they are not married but whatever.

Aren’t couples supposed to hate each other after their honeymoon?

Whatever. I think.

She’s happy.

And to be honest, no woman needs baby daddy drama after he basically left them.

Abandoned them.

“I suppose that’s why he wants to involve himself back into the family.” Roman nods, his lips turning down in a don’t know manner.

“But a man can’t have the best of both the worlds, Blaire.” He adds.

“He has a family, he has kids and mama Alyssa doesn’t need drama in her life.”

I agree with him.

After lunch we drive back to the inn, Roman lowers the car roof, the late evening, against my face.

Stepping inside our suite, I yawn as I follow Roman into the bedroom, finding him in the process of undressing.

“Can I join you?” I ask coyly from leaning against the doorway.

“ Join me ?“ He asks raising an eyebrow.

“Join me where precisely, Miss Anderson?”

“To shower, of course.” I say crossing my arms over my chest as I watch the man, hand carved by God himself, undo the snap on his pants.

“Who says I was going to shower?” He asks pushing his pants down kicking them off, revealing his form clad in a pair of white boxer shorts.

“Aren’t you?” I ask uncrossing my arms, fingers playing with the tie on my wrap dress.

“Am I?” He asks a smirk resting on his lips.

“Come on, Roman.” I laugh untying my dress, letting it fall on the floor as I walk into the bathroom, loosing my panties on the way.

I stand facing away from Roman under the heavy spray of shower in the bathroom.

The warm water falling against my strained skin, draining away the tiredness from my body as Roman’s hand move in circles washing me.

“You’re tired.” He states holding the punk loofa under water rinsing away the suds.

I hum in response as the water washes away the soap from my body.

“I’ve been up since five.” I add. “The shower seems to make me sleepy.”

Roman’s calloused but string fingers massage my shoulders rhythmically, making me wince from the pressure but it feels oh so good.

“I suppose sleep is in order.” He announced as soon as we exit the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and another under my arms covering my body.

I nod in response to his statement as I use another towel to somewhat dry my hair and walk to the bed, slumping on the pillows.

Sometime later, clad in flannel pajama bottoms Roman slips under the covers, spooning me from behind.

---

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Hi! This been a late update I know but yeah-

Anyways. Have a lovely day/night based in what timezone y’all are in.

Also I find this was a messy chapter but really I tried to write a sweet Blaire and Roman moment at the end.

Idk if it was okay or really bad lmao.

Anyways

Questions :

Favourite movie at this moment?

-November.

32

Manifest. Grind. Repeat.

My friendship with Ariel was on peril. I thought. It was this close to snap and break. I didn’t want it to break.

But as much as I tried to look at the positive little things, the negatives and absence of the positives in my life bothered me.

What was I doing?

What was I really doing?

Ariel was discharged from the hospital today. Trying and wanting to make up from me being an entitled bit h earlier, I had made the four of us lunch hoping that we could have a quiet lunch. Maybe gossip a little bit.

But then again, me being the person I was, I snooped around the CCTV footages again. Pink was still being suspicious. And Anne- I still didn’t like her.

As much as undoubtful as she was- I still failed to develop a liking toward her. However, I did some calculations of my own. Them being- Pink had an unhealthy obsession with Angelo. She has been sticking out like a sore thumb to get into Angelo’s pants.

Anne hated Ariel with all the might in her super model like body. If Anne and pink pairs up there is a mutual motive and mutual target. Ariel. And the need to wipe her out from the equation that would make Devil-o available to them again.

So they can have their merry three way.

As if.

So as much as sure as I was to have seen the night prior footage on my laptop, I had delivered the news to Roman. Who casually being very troubled by me, brushed it off.

“Anne doesn’t fit into any equation, Blaire.” The man said very much impassively without even looking away from his computer screen.

“You haven’t even heard what I said.” I replied frowning.

“I heard you loud and clear.”

“And how do you know Anne doesn’t fit into the equation?” I asked crossing my arms over my chest. “Have you asked her?”

“Precisely.” Roman snips taking a sip of his whiskey.

“What!” I scoffed. “You-”

“Sí, Blaire.” The man added diverting his eyes from the computer screen and toward me. Chocolatey brown eyes smoldering with exasperation. “I asked Anne. If it brothers you that much.”

It makes me confused and mad at him at the same time.

He- this man! This man went to Anne and confided in her!

“You- you confided in Anne?” I hiss.

“Anne is my friend, Blaire.” Roman rasps. “Yes. I confided in her.”

“But-” I gasp. “You possibly couldn’t have done that because she is-”

“She is what?” Roman asks. “A possible suspect?”

“Yes!” I hiss.

“Well pardon that the weight from your shoulder has been lifted.”

“Why would Anne trying to kill Ariel agree or disclose her plans to you?” I accuse. “Are you - are you that dense?”

“Blaire.” Roman warns. “Do not poke around where you oughtn’t.”

“Poke around where I oughtn’t?” I frown. “How the fuck dare you say that? Ariel is my friend!”

“I’ve seen what a tremendous friend you have been to her, Blaire.” Roman muttered turning his attention back to the computer. “I’ve seen and heard it all.”

“What the fuck, Roman!” I yell. “How could you?”

“Point out one lie I have uttered.” He said, totally uninterested at whatever that was bothering me. “Go on, pup.”

“What a bloody bastard.” I scoffed. “That’s who you only see, don’t you? Ariel this, Ariel that!”

“That will be enough of your shenanigans, Blaire.”

“I have had enough of you too!” I yell. Ugly tears already forming in my eyes. “I have had enough of you too! Why can’t you see my side for once!?’

“Blaire haven’t we talked about this yesterday?” He asks. A sigh follows the silence. “Have you even tried to understand what I told you, puppy?”

“Please, Roman!” I scoff throwing my hands in exasperation. “Please! I’m not jealous of my friend!”

“No. No, you’re jealous of not being treated her like that.” He snaps back. “Why do you fail to understand that Angelo and Ariel are close to getting married not close to be civil with each other! Their situation is different than ours, goddamnit, Blaire!”

Pain and anger was over my head by this point. Leaving me with rejection and hurt, to thump around my heart.

I suppose, truth is bitter after all. And this mother fucker surely laves a foul taste as the aftermath.

I had snatched the paperweight from his desk and hurled the heavy glass material straight at him. Roman sat unfazed as it hit the wall behind him. The family portrait that hung framed in expensive glass and golden frame shattered.

Tears made their way down to my cheeks.

“Fuck you, Roman.” I whispered. “Fuck you! You’re exhausting!”

Roman didn’t answer.

As much as I would’ve liked for him to fight back, accuse me, do something, he sat on his chair for a hot second before pushing himself up and leaving the room.

“Fucking piglet!” I hissed at no one in perticular as I heard the front door to the penthouse suite shut close.

I pep talked myself for a second before agressively wiping the tears away from my eyes as I made my way in to the kitchen to put four portions of lunch into four Tupperware containers.

Having as much as time I had in my hands, I garnished the food and oven roasted some asparagus to go along with our food before deciding to get ready.

I don’t care if Roman gets back or whatever. I don’t care at all. But then again, I’m not ready to answer anybody the reason of me going alone and Roman’s whereabouts.

This man exhausted me.

This man made feel small and immature.

This man made me feel like a child. A bratty mannerless child.

Perhaps it was because all my life, I had been in control of myself. Without a parent figure, I figured to do shit from a very young age. There was no right and wrong way for me, there was only get it done way. Always.

And now- this tendency of supression is making me nauseous. This tendency of loosing control makes me suffocate.

And Roman acting as impassive and unsympathetic as always was hurting me even more.

It was like taking one step forward and ten steps backward with this man.

It made me want to hit him with that fucking paperweight.

Instead, I had ruined a magnificent framed photograph.

God! It’s tiring to be me.

Roman did end up coming back into the penthouse. However, he didn’t bother with me anymore as he took a shower and silently dressed in pair of jeans and a t-shirt, forgoing tailored suits for once.

When I finish packing the picnic basket with the food containers, I find Roman waiting on the kitchen doorway, engrossed on his phone.

Okay. Breathe, Blaire. I pepped myself. Breathe.

“Ready.” I chirp as I carry the basket out. Roman silently leads the way.

Well.

Sometimes if not often, Roman confuses the fuck out of me. God, man, if you are fucking mad atleast show that you are mad!

Instead of being silent like a mute fucking person, yell scream and get it done and over with. But all that he has learned is to keep silent and all that fucking malarkey.

I hate him.

I fucking hate him to moon and mars and wherever that bullshit leads to.

God!

“Roman.” I touch his arm when we pull out of the underground car park of the inn and into the road.

Silence.

“Why are you this way?” I ask frowning. Exasperation boiling through my veins and pounding against my skull.

“What way?” He asks, dark shades covering his eyes as she stairs straight ahead on the road.

“God, why can’t you be normal?” I scoff. “For real, Roman.”

“Blaire.” The man sighs. His handsome features tight as he contracts and relaxes his jaw muscles. “I would rather you don’t talk to me right now.”

“Huh?!” I gasp. “So we’re going be giving each other a silent treatment like we’re give year old?”

“Think of it what you may.” I dismissively replied.

“Roman!” I urged again. A little urgently this time. No answer. Just him looking at the road ahead of us.

What a fucking bastard. I think.

Roman’s fancy little sports car halted infront of the iron gates that lead to Bubbles’s homey home.

This place was everything a girl would want. A little house with lush property surrounding the house. Enough space and enough sunlight. And indoor pool and just everything alright. Not too away from the city and not too close either.

This was Bubbles’s sanctuary. Her safe place.

I mean~ she does wants kids. And this place won’t be this big when she has her little monsters causing havocs. Kids.

The mare though of children scares me to my core. Shakes me up like a can of cola, ready to bust into bubbly nitrogen. Fuck.

I get out before Roman. Being in this close place with him for ten minutes was suffocating me. Roman was suffocating.

Sometimes. When he was mad and gave me the temper tantrum of a five year old which in return made me feel like a five year old.

The double doors to the house was open. So was the window. Bubbles half laid on the couch watching something on TV, playing in tortillini language.

Pfft.

“Howdy, Residence of Devil-o!” I yelled as I walked inside like it was my own home.

I suppose, what’s Ariel’s is mine. Except Devil-o. He stinks.

What’s mine is mine too. Hehe.

Ariel, instead of the warm welcome shrieked in response sitting up. The poor dog fell from her lap as she scooted to the other side.

What the fucking hell in fucking hell?

“Jesus Christ, woman!” I hissed at my friend who still looked horrified and as if she had seen a ghost. I glanced at the TV to see some wired horror stuff playing.

The fuck? I gagged. Who the fuck watches horror movie? And so I bickered about her movie choice like bitch that I was.

And then Ariel threw a pillow at me and then we talked a little before she joined me into the kitchen.

“Hey.” Ariel chimed walking into the kitchen as I plate the dishes so I can pop them in the oven for a minute before eating. The woman smiles sweetly at me, resting her hip against the kitchen counter.

“Hey, bub.” I reply. “How the fuck does this work?” I ask punching multiple button on the oven.

Why the fuck does anyone need this much of a tricky heating oven?

“Press the left clock one.” Ariel humms.

“Yeah, it’s working.” I scowl. “Stupid mother fucker.”

“How’s you?” Ariel asks picking a bunch of grapes from the fruit bowl along with some other berries and into a sieve.

“Fucking grand.” I mumble intently watching the oven.

Weird yellow light from the top turning the dish round and round.

God I need a break. I think.

“Did you fight with Roman, again?” She asks walking over to the sink with the berries to wash them.

Just how much basic and predictable am I?

Roman is soo fucking tiring! But I’ve said that before, haven’t I?

“Yes.” I answer.

“Why?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I sigh. “It’s silly.”

It might have sounded silly. But to me it wasn’t. To me it was Roman treating me all weird.

What does it cost him to be just nice to me?

“His fault or yours?” She asks turning the tap off.

“His, of course.” I scoff.

Ariel nods, getting the fruits transfered into a bowl.

I knew that my friend could see right through me.

What was fucking wrong with me?

“Whatever, it was my fault.” I roll my eyes.

Fuck, how long does it take for this stupid money costing oven to heat up food?

“I’m the one with a loud mouth and talks too much without thinking, don’t I?” I add, feeling all the stupid feeling surface.

“Sometimes.” Ariel whispers.

Well, of course she thinks that too!

Why wouldn’t she? Of course she does.

“I hate the fact that always I have to apologize making myself the immature one in this arrangement.” I say putting on the yellow oven mitt as I see the countdown for to ten seconds.

“Why can’t he be nice to me as well and explain all that stuff to me, when I am making something up in my head.” I snap. “You and Devil-o ain’t like that.” I rip the oven door open once it pings done.

But from periphery I hear Ariel wince.

I wonder if it’s for her precious over or how I sound right now?

God I should stop ranting.

“Y’all are cutesy and romantic and homey as fuck.” I hiss, remembering what a childish treatment I received in the car before.

Like a kid sent to time out.

“And he don’t treat you like am unhinged ten year old!” I add.

Jeez, calm down woman! I pep myself.

“Alright.” Ariel sighs.

I sigh more loudly.

“Calm down.” Ariel urges gently, coming to a halt directly in front of me, placing her hands gently on my shoulders.

“Breathe.” She cooes softly. “In and out.” I tells again.

“I’m fine.” I wave the in and out technique off.

Seriously, sometimes Ariel reminds me of a mum I’ve never had.

And as much as it’s nice sometimes, often it’s like a baggage that I don’t want to carry.

“Every relationship-” Ariel begins with a sigh. “Arrangement.” She corrects herself. “Every arrangement, has it’s positives and negatives.”

“Ups and downs.” She shrugs. “And every arrangement is different in it’s own way.” She says as a matter of fact.

“Sometimes you find similarities with another and sometime you don’t.” Ariel adds. “Point is everyone is different, just like every people is different-”

“Yeah.” I scoff. “Cause you and Angelo has history right? A kid and a miscarriage and all that malarkey.”

Oh? Fuck, Blaire.

Shut the fuck up!

“Yes.” Ariel says with a chuckle. “That malarkey.”

“Whatever.” I wave the discussion off. “You had his kid so he cares and cause I’m not perfect and all that bull shit, Roman doesn’t care.”

“I’m sure it’s probably nothing like that-” Ariel whispers.

“You don’t even know the half all this and how this shit began so just-” I sigh.

“Blaire.” She urges gently.

I wave her off. “It’s alright.”

Miserable, is what I was.

Anything but fine. I was fucking miserable.

Five second of uncomfortable silence surrounds us.

Ten seconds.

I pick up the heated contents that was on four different plates instead of carry boxes and leave to the outdoor dining area.

Of course, they have an outdoor dining area. A little circle table with a little flower vase in the middle, curtsey like everything else they have and do.

The lunch is pretty silent for my liking. Roman doesn’t talk. Angelo doesn’t talk apart from helping Ariel occasionally, refilling her water glass and helping her veggies from his plate every now and then while she would shoot him pouting looks that reminded me of Coralyn in more ways than one.

“Hey Bubbles?” I sigh when I catch up with my friend after lunch as she clears off the table, placing the plates in the sink.

“Yeah?” She turns to me with a smile.

“I’m- I’m sorry Bubbles.” I sigh grabbing both her hands in mine.

God, she seems too fragile just even to touch

Ariel purses her lips at me, shaking her head. “Shush.”

“I don’t know what gets into me these days.” I sigh for the nth time. “It’s- it’s stupid how I am reacting to everything, I can barely contain my temper and all-”

“Blaire.” She tries to hush me. “It’s alright.”

“It’s not.” I argue. Because it isn’t. The only thing I am doing is hurting her and hurting her, even Roman called me out that I was hurting her .

“I keep lashing out on you and all you say is alright.” I add.

God, why does she have to be wise? And so mature? And so forgiving?

Why won’t she stand up for herself? It’s sometimes- sometimes very pathetic and pisses me off.

“Because it is.” She squabbles. “I haven’t been too good of a friend, have I?”

“You’ve been the best friend.” I retort.

She shakes my head. “I’m sorry, I was just too caught up in everything that I didn’t give you time to tell your side of the story, bub.”

It’s not entirely false, yet- yet, admitting it- voicing it sounds so weird.

As much as truth that holds to me, I don’t want to hurt her again by telling she’s been an absent friend.

She has been jumbled up in her life too much.

“I don’t deserve you.” I mumble abruptly pulling her into a hug, desperate for this conversation to end with her.

Let’s just pretend this shit never happened.

“It’s alright.” She says rubbing my back. “It’s alright, sweets.”

I nod still embracing her. Her sweet smelling shampoo ticking my senses. Sheesh.

“Let’s have a girl’s day.” Ariel prompts abruptly. “We can go do whatever you want.”

“Girls day?” I pull away from our hug. Okay, yeah.

That sounds relevant huh?

Bubbles nod.

“We can go and get our hair done and get meni-pedi and all.” She smiles. “Whatever.”

“I haven’t done my hair in ages-” I trail off.

I just recently did my hair. Got a wash and a massage.

“Great.” She says. “We’ll get our hair done.”

I grins and hug her again.

“You’re precious, Ariel.” I whisper.

It makes her smile. Good.

“That’s why Devil-o don’t wanna get you go.” I add, tapping her cheek. “He’s too much in love with you-”

“Alright.” Ariel sighs putting an end to my sentence.

She’s dense not to see how much she has Devil-o by the leash.

And Roman too. Sometimes.

“Let’s clean up, I’ll make you coffee.” She offers. “Hmm? I’ll even make you a little kitten on your latte.”

“Sure, babe.” I smile. But not really.

Nothing about this makes me smile.

Which it should, but it doesn’t.

At all.

It’s a little short chapter. Sowey. But also we need to get into Blaire’s head! God we’re so behind (╥﹏╥)

Y’all better brace up cause we going on a roller coaster. A big mad one. God! Yes!!!

Also I have come up with an update schedule. Yes!!!

Blaire will be updated on Thursday and Saturday (if I can make time I’ll put bonus updates)

Sienna will be updated Wednesday and Sunday (if I can make time I’ll put bonus updates)

I’ll be back to click off the errs. Okay? Byes (╥﹏╥)

-N.

33

Dinner was ordered instead of home cooked that night when we arrived from Ariel’s place.

My unhappy state of mind nagged me. A lot.

I had felt the shift of our friendship. Not necessarily in a positive way. It wasn’t good. I could tell that it wasn’t good, neither was it wanted or appreciated.

Roman didn’t know about our little snappy encounter before lunch and make up after lunch. Even if he knew he acted pretty oblivious to knowledge.

The side eyes from Angelo wasn’t something I had missed throughout the lunch.

God, I hated myself for lashing out at Ariel. But then again, I felt bad a lot and then did the same thing I felt bad about..

Distance was necessary between me and Bubbles. Her state was affecting me too much. I was letting it affect me too much. And being close to bubbles would be if anything but a thorough encounter of pains. All due to my self centered thinking.

Sometimes I did wish I were like my friend. Or maybe Coralyn and Alyssa. Selfless and kind. Polite and prim. Gentle. I wasn’t. There wasn’t any thing in my that was sugarcoating worthy.

I was Blaire. Blunt and insensitive.  And now, possibly the reason of my best friend’s mental health deterioration. She was such a sweet soul.

Overbearing. Motherly. Nagging. But sweet nevertheless. Ariel was always there to lend- hell, she would even cut of her shoulder if I wanted that. But me? I was mad at minor inconvenience she caused to my day dreaming fairy tale.

I wish I were a better, sensible person.

I wonder if the therapist Bubbles see is any good.

It would be better if I went. Just to let the mess in my head, calm down a little.

But there was no avail.

Dressed in a set of silk pajama shorts and chemise, I stared up at the reflective ceiling of my bedroom. Roman and I still rarely slept on the same bed.

It was usually me feeling uncomfortable with another person and getting away to save my sorry ass. Roman, once knocked out rarely woke up before the clock struck five fifteen every morning.

No matter how late we stayed up, fucking each other’s brains out.

The bastard could sleep through a fucking shootout, he could.

Turning on my side, I was tempted to call Ariel. I glanced at the time in the right corner of my cell phone. No. It was late with the time reading three thirty.

She would be a sleep getting discharged from hospital. She would need her share of rest.

But the again, Devil-o, as the lil bitch he was, might not let her sleep through the night. I realized. What a little cunt.

My inner battle with my reasonable side wins as I impulsively pick up my cell phone to ring Ariel at there thirty in the morning.

“Hello?” Angelo’s sleep stained and deep voice vibrates through the speakers of my phone making me wince.

Wistful thinking that little mermaid was going to pick up her phone, but meh. Just luck.

“Hello?” Angelo snapped. “Who is it? Speak goddamn it.”

“Jeez.” I mock clearing my throat. “What crawled up your sorry ass?”

“Blaire.” Angelo exasperatingly spat. “What do you want?”

“Jesus Christ, mate.” I scoff. “What does it takes to be nice for you?”

“It’s three in the fucking morning.” He reasons. “Ariel is sleeping.”

“Awe fuck.” I cuss. “Here I was hoping to have a sexy chat with my girlfriend.”

I hear the call drop from the other end and a recorded message of apology drawls for sudden call end.

What a little cunt. I thought throwing my phone beside me on the bed. God, I am so lonely.

I wish I had made better attempts to make friends. Ariel being preoccupied and occupied with Devil-o has cut of girl to girl time short.

Now all she wants to do is play petty pretty house wife for Angelo Giovanni.

I think of the possibilities she has with her life. She was a good dancer. Not one single dancer could do acrobatics like Ariel. She was a pretty damn good ballerina. Her strip dancing with that foots long pole was- chef’s kiss.

She could go to college. Her herself a fine arts degree, pursue her career, live a dream life but instead she chooses to be controlled by a man who hurt her. Tremendously. And who degraded her. In the most painful way possible by ripping their child away from her womb.

And now he just sweet talks to her and buys her expensive presents so she’s all cotton candy soft around him.

The absurd thought makes me want to laugh.

Never heard of a more  ludicrous tale in my life.

But then again, judging Ariel makes me feel like a shit bag too. Who am I to talk, anyway? I think.

I jumped into bed with my abductor at the first chance given. And even when he had set our limits pretty nice and clear like crystal, I couldn’t help but want more of him.

If his darkness. Of what makes him tick. What’s pushes him to his limits. What makes the cogs of his brain turn like a mother fucking machine. I wanted to know. I wanted to know all of them.

Dada always used to say the my curiosity will one day land me somewhere strange. I mean, I was only seven- maybe ten when he said that. That too laughing because I really wanted two of the new lego sets.

Up until recently, I didn’t realize that how much truth the old man’s words held. I miss my dad. I thought.

I miss how he used to put me to bed every night. It didn’t matter if he was loaded with work or meetings. He always had time for me. His Blaire bear.

I miss his voice when he used to read to me about the machines he made. I remembered that nothing about mechanics interested me. It was his voice that held me captive till I drowsed off into a land of colorful unicorn and rainbows.

I miss how l could run to him everytime I was confused, scared, hurt or sad.

And tonight, in this cold bed I missed daddy even more.

“Blaire.” I heard. My hands quickly flowing to wipe away the tears I had no idea was falling.

“Yeah?” I replied sitting up. Knowing it was Roman and he was walking inside, I made an attempt to fix myself.

“Are you crying?” The man asked as I felt the bed dip beside me. Shuffling around the sheets, I rearranged them.

“No.” I scoff. “I don’t cry, Roman. I’m not a baby.”

Roman ignores my statement completely. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“No shit.” I snort. But we both know that sass is a pretense. Deep inside, I want to tell him that I couldn’t sleep either.

I want to tell him hold me while I try to close the little treasure box in my head that had abruptly opened shooting out a halo of happy memories, I didn’t want to think about.

But it was Roman. And I was afraid of rejection.

Afraid of being hurt by the man who I had started to like.

I mean, I liked his dick plenty. Not just that. I liked that. What I mean is I had started to like him too.

And it was very new to me. Very surreal. Very not me but whatever right?

I had never known what showing love is aside my daddy. He was the only one who loved me and showed me that he really did.

And now I have Alyssa and Coralyn. They remind me of the mummy I never had. I mean I had Janice but she was meh.

She only cared about her weekly manicures and facials. Her monthly haircuts and all that malarkey. Never about the daughter she birthed. Nope. I wasn’t a money making machine so I was of no use to her.

And then there was my best little friend whom I am drifting away from. God, I hate me.

I felt Roman lay down beside me. No more words exchanged between us.

I wanted to riot. Demand why was he here. And why was he laying beside me. I wanted to ask him to leave and say I can’t share a bed cause it makes me fussy.

But I didn’t. I just wanted to feel a little. Feel something that wasn’t a part of my reality.

Fucked up. I know.

Instead, I turned to his side and peered at him. His muscular hands was tucked under his head as he stared up at the ceiling. Jaw set in relaxation. Hard plank of muscles in display.

The tribal tattoo he had in his hip bone travelled all the way inside his pajama pants that he wore.

“What are you looking at?” Roman sighs, still not meeting my eyes.

Coward.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” I whispered. “I rather like you when you’re quiet.”

“It happens so, we are on the same page, puppy.” He replies as if bored.

But then again, his voice is always bored and impassive. Like he hasn’t had a good laugh in ages. As if he hadn’t done something fun in ages. And it had made him bored and quiet beyond his years.

“What do you do for fun?” I ask. Shuffling closer to him. “Any hobby?”

“Work.”

“What a bore.” I hummed. “Don’t you get bored.”

“It’s not a boring profession.”

“It isn’t.” I agreed thinking back to the time when I was still new and slaving away at Minx and he had shot a guy in the head. Three bullets and blood and human- eh- thingy on the expensive carpet floor.

My stomach twisted and turned at the mare thought of the gruesome scene.

“Like- don’t you find anything else enjoyable?” I asked. Morbid curiosity.

Oh, please! I’m not imagining having kids with this brute of man.

Well, it wasn’t that we weren’t practicing but-

No. Ew. Shush.

“Reading.” Roman replies after a beat. “I like to read.”

I snorted. What a nerd.

I mean- who am I to judge right?

But yet, there was some kind of childish satisfaction to bully Roman. He irked and it became fun.

Until I pushed beyond I should have and then it would be like a switch flip and Roman would resume being the grumpy mob boss he was.

Little cunt.

“What do you read?” I ask.

“-books?”

I make a sound of annoyance deep in my throat before scowling at him. His face turns to me,bin an expression of sheer boyish satisfaction.

Wow. Roman DiMariano actually looks good when he smiles.

Roman DiMariano especially looks good when he smiles in the dark while moonlight caresses shid skin.

Ovulation what?

“I mean what kind of books?” I roll my eyes. “You are a bore anyway. Not that you’d enjoy fun things.”

“Thriller.” I replied a second after. “I like thriller.”

“Like Annabelle?” I tease.

Roman makes a face, staring up at the ceiling as if I had insulted him.

God, I love this right now.

Why can’t things be so smooth in the daylight? I think.

Why can’t we function like normal people like we were right now?

Why must we end up in fights and cusses and angry retreats?

“Not like Annabelle, Blaire.” Roman whispers. “Annabelle is a horror-”

“Same thing.” I pout. “Ghosts scare me.”

“Ghosts would be scared of you.”

“Now!” I shriek. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Roman chuckles.

“What’s your favourite book?”

“Silence of the lamb.” He hums.

“That’s horrible.” I make a face. “Read it to me.”

Shuffling more closer, I tentatively place my face on his chest. Roman looks down, stiffining a little from my closeness. His eyes unsure and possibly- panicked.

Well, he can deal with it.

“Roman?” I ask, throwing one arm around his waist. He stiffens more under me. “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean?” He clears his throat reaching for his cellphone of the bedside table.

“Does intimacy reminds you of her?” I ask out of the blue. “Maria?”

“Don’t ruin it, Blaire.” The warning in his voice dominated the plea of his heart.

“Why don’t you ever talk about her?” I whisper. “She’s gone yet you have her photograph on your study like she is very much alive-”

Roman shots up into a sitting position, pushing my body away from his.

The loss of connection makes me want to cry and throw a fit like a little girl. But I don’t.

Because Blaire- sometimes knows how to handle herself.

“Why don’t you ever talk about her?” I ask again.

But Roman doesn’t reply. Instead he gets up and leaves.

I eye his phone that he left behind on the bed. The novel he said was his favorite open on the e-reader app.

I sigh.

Way to go, Blaire. Way to go.

Hi! Sorry for not updating when I said I would (╥﹏╥) my medications were changed and they made me sicky. Sorry (╥﹏╥)

-N.

34

“Made you eggs.” I heard Blaire softly mutter from the doorway. “And beans.”

“Grazie.” I replied donning a silk tie around my neck. Making a quick Windsor knot.

“You have time for breakfast, right?” She asked again.

From the mirror I saw her standing in the doorway of my bedroom. Her slender body donned in a silk pajama set with a matching robe.

“Sí.” I lied.

“Great.” Blaire sighed. I watched her for a second more. Even though her job was done she still stood on the doorway. Her arms crossed over her chest.

Melancholic and depressed.

She has been for a while. I sigh.

My meeting with Angelo was in fifteen minutes. Somehow, for the first time in my life, I was late. Not that I had slept through the night. Nay.

It was the lack of sleep that took over my already exhausted self. I didn’t have time for breakfast. I barely had time to shower.

After I left Blaire’s boudoir last night, I had found myself in my study. Buried under a pile of paperwork that could wait for the morning to come. Instead, I worked and kept myself ahead of schedule. And then found myself in a novel that came out the month before.

I hadn’t read in a long while. It was hard to find something. Yet, last night when sleep was wadded off by Blaire’s words and Maria’s memory, I found that pages of a book was my only escape. Business could run with my absence for one night.

Angelo had been keeping up, steeping up when needed and necessary.

“Do you want coffee?” Blaire asked.

“Sí.” I replied, spraying my favourite cologne in my wrists and under my collars.

“Roman-” I heard the woman sigh.

But I pretended as of I didn’t. I didn’t want to talk right now. Hell, I just wanted to get out of here and go to the base. Have that meeting with the captains and then go about my day.

“Do you have to go?” She whispers.

“Sí.”

“Can you talk more than a word?” She asked. Her voice soft like silk. “Are you still mad about last night?”

“I’m not mad, Blaire.” I replied turning to face her once, I had my routines finished. “I’m just really busy.”

“Fine.” Blaire huffs. “Be that way. Be the immature one.”

Really?

“Be the one to throw a silent fit like a five year old everytime things get deep between us-”

“Discussing about my dead fiance is hardly a deep topic, Blaire.” I snapped.

Blaire rolls her eyes. “Whatever Roman. Everytime I feel like we take one step, you push us twenty steps backward.”

“That so?” I ask plucking the charcoal grey suit jacket that I had placed on the bed.

“Tell me, isn’t that so?” She challenges. “Everytime-”

“Do you ever think that maybe if you want an individual to cooperate, you should cooperate as well? Shit doesn’t work one way-”

“I don’t cooperate?” She scoffs like she doesn’t believe it.

“Do you?” I ask. “Ask yourself, do you? You do you. You want everything to go your way, everyone go your route.”

“You’re fucking mean.” She snaps.

“I am.” I shrug on my jacket. “I’ll be late.”

“What about breakfast?” She frowns.

“I don’t have time.”

“You said you had time.” She points out. Swirls of fury appearing in her orbs.

“Now I don’t.” I replied. “Don’t wait up.”

“You can count on it.” She snapped venemously before turning on her heels. I heard the door of her bedroom shut close making me sigh once again.

Blaire was confusing. That I could conclude to myself.

She was childish and her mood swings wasn’t interesting anymore. On the contrary her behavioural pattern had started to piss me off big time.

Just the day prior she had damaged the family photograph that hangs in the wall behind my desk. One of my mother’s prized and supercilious possessions.

Yet, it had been damaged by her childish wrath that made no sense whatsoever. It was wearing me out. It had become a mental exhaustion for me.

Confiding in Angelo was something- was the only way to express whatever I was feeling regarding her. The man that Angelo was, he had suggested breaks.

“You are going to exhaust yourself.” He had said the night prior when I had called him impulsively. “You need a break.”

I did. I realized. With everything with Blaire and working for the family, I really needed a break. Preferably a long one. A solo one.

Yet, you will find me on my way to the business site, reading to tackle yet another day.

“Boss.” Angelo greeted me as I approached him. Arrived before and having occupying the table for us, he had a variety of boxes infront of him. Each of the boxes showcased sweets of colors and flavours.

“I’m sending home breakfast.” Angelo sheepishly replied to my confusion. “I don’t really want her to cook and clean right now.”

“But she will do it either way.” I tell him waving a hand for the waiter to bring our usual platter of breakfast.

Ariel- she was the biggest germophobe I had ever encountered. After my mother of course.

There was these two woman in my life, who hadn’t gone one day without scrubbing their damn floors. Just in case.

Even in the club, it would be Ariel’s priority to atleast sanitize her own things if not everybody’s. The pole she danced on, the locker she used. The stage she performed on.

No matter how much the surface was cleaned by the cleaning company.

Just in case. And then splashes of bubblegum scented disinfectant would follow.

“Yeah.” Angelo sighed with a frown. “Though I did call the cleaner. I suppose she would do it nevertheless.”

I chuckled as the winter placed our morning coffee before breakfast.

“What’s on the agenda today?” I asked pulling out my phone. My assistant had already updates my calendar for the day and so I gave it a glance over for the first time.

“I’m going to head over and receive the last batch of shipments from the Ivanovs.” Angelo replied taking a sip of his morning coffee.

I offer Angelo a nod in affermative.

“Are we inviting Ivanovs for the Christmas gala this year?” My brother asks.

“Don’t we every year?” I raise an eyebrow. “Don’t be a kid.”

A grimace takes over his feature as he cusses Mikhail Ivanov under his breath. I smirk slightly.

“I thought I gave you a generous day off?” I asked Angelo as I picked up my fork to finally start on my breakfast.

“Ah.” The man sighs. “The only person needing a a day of is you, brother. Or ten.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” I chuckled with a shake of my head.

“I was thinking of picking another dog for Ariel.” Angelo adds. “Another one might keep her busy.”

I nod. “What about her therapy? Have you talked about that with your girl?”

Angelo grimaces. “Therepy is not negotiable anymore, Roman.”

“Her motive wasn’t to kill herself.” I remind the man again. “She’s grieving. She’s sad- she feels helpless. She needs time and help. She isn’t suicidal-”

“Yet.” He adds, pointedly. “She isn’t suicidal yet. Could you possibly imagine me being sane without her, boss?”

“You are right.” I reply. “This might be serious.”

“Have you had a talk with Blaire?” Angelo asks.

“About what?” I ask picking up my ringing phone. “Spit it, Ricardo.”

Angelo regards me with a frown plastered to his expression while the head of my security informs me about the shipment leaving the dock at two o’clock this morning.

“Have you checked on everything?” I asked. “My products are the best in this fucking continent Ricardo. One little drop of my reputation, I will have your head on a bident, you hear me?”

“Sí, boss.” The man replies. “I have been in the warehouse since five, everything is packed and ready to be loaded.”

“Angelo will be there to see the products off.” I snap. “Get me the capo in charge for tonight’s export.”

“Sí.”

“Germany.” Angelo drawls out glancing at his phone. “This batch leaves for Germany.”

“Sí.” I replied. “And I want you to look at every little detail before signing off the ship.”

“I thought I was on a generous day off?” My brother challenges. But my blank expression takes our brotherly banter take a back seat.

“What is Germany bringing us?” He asks curious. “Cash or resource?”

“Diamonds.” I smirk.

Angelo chuckled.

By nine fifty our breakfast and second serving of coffee was done. As Angelo signed off the bill, I threw a little red velvet pouch at him.

“Better see a jeweller and get this mess sorted with.” I roll my eyes at him. This little possession of his had been in my pocket since he made the purchase.

Angelo glared at me, picketing the pouch.

It was barely after six when I made my way into the village Inn hotel. The Royal suite allowed the top floor to be closed for the sheer excuse of privacy. And at this moment, it was my humble abode.

Using my keys to open the door, I am instantly hot with the harsh smell of bleach.

“Blaire.” I call out as I step inside the pent house suite. “Balire-”

“I thought you would be late?” She snaps from somewhere in the house. “It’s only six?”

“I aware of what time it is.” I reply.

“Jolly good than, boss.” She snorts. Silently, I cross my arms over my chest as she appears from the kitchen doorway. Still dressed in pajamas. Her hair a mess and she carries a plastic bucket and the mop.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Working.” She snaps. “Cleaning.”

“Why?”

“Cause I have nothing else to do?” It comes out as a question. “I guess getting kidnapped and all ain’t that fun as fantasy books make them to be. It’s horrible actually. It’s utter nonsense and the most bizarre experience. Don’t recommend.”

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean l, what’s wrong?” She snaps. I can see tears swell up in her eyes. “What’s right?”

“What’s wrong, puppy?” I ask closing the distance between us. My palm cradles her cheek. Fleshy lip trembling. “What do you need?”

“I need to go home.” She whimpered, cuddling her cheek to my palm. “I don’t feel so good, Roman. I can’t make myself to feel good. What is wrong with me? I never used to feel this way! What’s wrong with me?”

“Puppy.” I softly whisper. “Look at you- did you atleast eat?”

She shakes her head. With eyes swirling with tears, vulnerable and soft, Blaire almost looked too adorable to be true.

“I did sent breakfast.” I admit. “And lunch-”

“I wasn’t hungry, Roman.” She huffs. “What do you want me to do?”

I sigh, dropping my hand from her cheek. Blaire gives out a tiny whimper of protest.

Puppy.

“Let me take a quick shower.” I admit. “I will feed you after.”

Short chapter. I know. Bare with me. Lol. I’m- I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up on the next chap. Promise. I need time to reabsorb these characters. I swear, Blaire will send me right back to therepy. Smh.

I hope she’s worth it though (╥﹏╥)

Anyways. Brb to fix the errs.

Also lemme knu how much y’all like Roman’s pov. Or nah.

Also y’all wan a bonus chap for Ariel?

And and- we’ll be having a little time jump in this in the near future so- so, y’all better brace yourself. Hehe. <(￣︶￣)>

-November.

35

Sitting on Roman’s thigh while he fed me forks of spaghetti, drenched with spicy tomato sauce was good.

Yes. It was good.

It was even more good when my head lolled on his shoulder, the exhaustion from the day crawling up my body, making me numb and eyes attempt close. I was tired.

Roman had send packed lunch and breakfast from wherever he was. But somebody delivered the food. I hadn’t bothered to open up the fancy one time use plastic containers of food, instead shove them into the fridge.

And that was what we were having for dinner. I had popped the box of spaghetti that came for lunch into the oven while Roman showered and I cleaned up the last bit.

And when I say, I am fucking knackered. I fucking mean it.

But whatever right? At least I would pass out as soon as my back met the mattress. I would pass out like a fucking log. And that’s what it mattered.

Having gotten no sleep the night prior that what I wanted to do.

“Jesus Christ, man.” I moved my fave away from the spoon of offered food. “I’m not a fucking goat.”

“Fine.” Roman sighed beginning his own share of dinner. But he didn’t ask me to move. So I didn’t. Instead I wrapped my arms around his neck (he was wearing a black t-shirt and grey sweats. Yum) and rested my cheek in his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” Roman asked after his morsel of food was swallowed.

“I’m just tired.” I yawned. “I have no idea how some women manage to do all this, all day, every day.”

“Who do you refer to?” He asked. “Mama?”

“Hmm.” I agree. “And bubbles too. They’re maniacs.”

Roman chuckles. “Are you sure you have had enough food?”

“Mmm.” I agree heaving down a sigh of relief. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

I whisper the last bit out. I knew Roman wasn’t a fan of sharing his bed with someone. But- really, I just-

“Sure.” He agreed.

“I’ll stay on my side, promise.”

“Sure, pup.” He agrees.

Today was one of the baddest and loneliest day I had spend in this God awful pent house. I was aware of my childishness the night prior and so I wanted to make it up to Roman. God knows, I appreciated his gesture of wanting to read a wretched novel to me. I wasn’t a thriller girl. Not really. Romance maybe? Yeah.

But Roman had autobiography of serial murders in his library. No thank you.

Anyways, today was one of the loneliest day I had spend. Roman had yelled at me before he left. I don’t like it when he yells at me before he leaves. Of leaves after he yells at me. It triggers up a number of bad feelings inside my heart.

Makes it go all dump-ba-dump-ba-dump.

I was seventeen when my papa deceased.

They say it was a car malfunction.

I remember that day as clearly as if it had happened just the morning prior. I was back from the call girl’s catholic boarding school I went to, for summer break in our mansion.

I was as usual on my computer, it was ten days into summer. Sun barely shined in the sky of Westminster that day, it was only like eight in the morning, papa was getting ready for his office meeting.

Janice yelled at the background about something like she always did. Papa ignored her shrieks like he most often did. She spat profanities at my sweet daddio at the top of her lungs, I lounged in the breakfast table with my laptop. Papa Bear kissed my head before grabbing a toast saying he was late.

I had giggled at his words and eye roll and gave him a kiss, went back to my computer.

But little did I know, that my world would come crashing down just like that withing the next thirty minutes. Little did I know, that seventeen year old Blaire, the Blaire that laughed and giggled and liked to watch movies into late night with her dad, would be buried along with her daddy that day.

The Blaire I had become that day after the phone call was a shell of the Blaire who I was before that phone call.

“Blaire.” I become aware of Roman saying my name. Reality floods back to me. The scenes of the Westminster mansion disolving into the modern layout of Roman’s penthouse.

“Hmm?” I asked. “What is it?”

“Are you alright?” He asked. His hand was resting on the small of my back. Had he been calling me for long?

“Yeah.” I waved my hand in a dismissive wave. “Peachy. Really tired though. Cleaned like a fucking beast!”

“Get your ass into bed, then.” He playfully pats my bottom. “I will join you.”

“I’ll wait.” I beamed at him, but then the air shifted. The cool air became heavy with anticipation. It howled with desire as his honey brown orbs stared back into my blue ones.

“You better fucking kiss me.” I lowly breathe, my hands fisting on the material of his shirt. The plan that was pressed on the small of my back now snaked around my waist, to abruptly pull me astride him.

And yeah, so we kissed. We kissed like we had never kissed before. Gentle and tender. Soft and sweet, with my arms around his neck and his on my waist. Tasting the tomato sauce on his tongue. With each caress, I let myself down a little. The wall that I had built around my broken, shattered little heart.

A heart I hadn’t let anyone see for almost five years now. Yes, I bared one corner of the stone  wall as Roman kissed me. First my upper lip, then my lower, and then with all of his, he had me. Savoured me like I was his last supper.

“Sweet puppy.” Roman whispered pulling away from the embrace. My eyes were still closed from the heat we had just experienced. Albeit for short ten seconds. But then he rose, pushing the chair back. My legs wrapped around his waist, arms tightened around his neck.

“You better not drop me, you monster.” I cussed knowing full well that even if he drops me, we would have sex on this titled floor. Cold tile on my bare ass and all that.

“When have I ever?” Roman challenged.

“Whatever.” I sing singed as he ushered us to his bed room, making me groan. “Creep.”

I couldn’t stand this room for fuck’s sake. All sides glass window wall creeped me out of my fucking knickers for fuck’s sake.

But asking for a room change would ruin the whole mood and plus Roman adores this room. Go figure.

Roman lowers me down to the mattress, one of his knees between my legs, parting them slightly. Just enough to accommodate him partially, as his mouth returns on my fervently.

God, I liked kissing him. I liked how it made me feel as if I were floating in clouds, as if I weighed nothing, as if I my body had melted to his and he had moulded me into himself. It was that good, as he moved his lips against mine. As I moved mine against his, arms around his neck and tongue caressing his.

“Jesus fuck.” I cussed as Roman’s phone rang on the bedside table. Usual instinct would be ignore that fucking device. And we did, until it rang again.

Slightly reluctant, Roman snatched the phone up from the side table, running a hand through his brown his, sitting back on his calves.

“I swear if it’s Devil-o, I’m going cut his little peepee off and-”

“It’s not Angelo.” Roman shook his head leaning down to place a kiss on my temple. I cherished the rush of warmth that spread through me. “It’s my dad. Give me a second.”

“Fine.” I huffed and slid down on the bed so my head rested on the pillow. Roman straightened up, hurrying down from the bed and out of the room.

I only caught the, ‘Sí, papa’ as he answered his phone and then the study door click shut. No doubt that the lock was in place.

It was serious. I concluded. I was always welcome into the study unless the matter was really serious. Or unless there was blood and gut and other wired psycho shit involved.

That is when, Roman locked the door. Sometimes, I would just go and press my ears to the door hoping to listen, but today, I didn’t feel like getting up and eve’s dropping on the door. I was too tired to play games today.

Blaire feels sleepy right now.

But Blaire also feels as if the muscles of her stomach was twisted to a knot and the ache won’t go away.

I sighed stretching my hands above my head, feeling my bones crack from the exhaustion impaled upon them. And then, I grabbed another pillow from Roman’s side, placing it between my legs. The woodsy scent did some relief the burning desire inside my chest. Some sort of comfort.

However, a pillow over the material of my cotton shite shorts barely did a good job as much as for the real thing.

Exaustion took over me in the dimly lit creepy as fuck room as I twisted and turned in the bed. Robbing the pillow wherever it would provide some sort of comfort. It didn’t. I had half a mind of going to the study and knocking and asking for it, but then again I didn’t.

Vaguely I remembered Roman sliding beside me in the bed, his head in my pillow and arms around me.

This man knew how to cuddle, I thought. He knew how to give that affection and take it as well. He was not only expert with that capital D but also expert in ways a lover should be. But then again-

Why?

What had made him so so closed of? So impassive? So unexpressive? So rough. I sighed.

“Go to sleep.” That was an order dripping from his voice. “You’re exhausted.”

I am. I wanted to say, but my voice got lost somewhere in the middle of wanting sleep and needing Roman to give me skin to skin.

I’ll be back to fix the typos and all.

November.

36

“Isn’t this mine?” I heard the woman. A scowl on her face as she flipped through the book. Seven hundred and fifty nine pages of hand written notes and alternate ways of recipes. I scowled back at her, rubbing my eyes.

“It’s not.” I lied.

“I have been writing in this since I was twenty years old, Blaire!” She pursed her red lips at me.

I shrugged at her. “Your point?”

“Your such a liar.” She accused taking pink leather bound book. “Little theif!”

“I just borrowed it-”

“Without my permission!” She pitched. And then sighed. “I was so worried that I had lost it, oh my Goodness, Blaire!”

“I’ll give it back to you!” I argued. “You need to chill.”

“Chill?” She scoffs. “I wouldn’t have said no if you wanted to borrow it or photocopy it or whatever!”

“Fine, geez.” I sighed. “You’re weird.”

I think I hurt the petite woman’s feelings. But nevertheless she asked if I wanted to keep it for a while. I was done copying it. So I replied in the negative.

Coralyn placed the book in her prada tote bag that she carried here.

It was just thirty minutes ago, I was minding my own business and all, sleeping, mind you. And then the little cyclone came. Dressed and primed at ten thirty in the morning.

Might I ask how does she find the energy to be so bubbly and cheerful so early. But then she caught me in the act.

I had just the fool proof plan to return the book to her. Leave it on her kitchen cabinet where I found it in the first place. But then again-

Sigh.

“I’m sorry, Blaire.” Coralyn sighs. “It is too special to me, I was worried and sad.”

“That’s fine.” I shrug. “I should have asked you. I’m sorry.”

“Mmm.” She agrees. “I started this one when I young. It has all of nona’s recipe in it.” She says sadly. A glum cloud of pain covered her features. “It’s the only very personal thing of her I have.”

“I’m sorry.” I repeat. I knew Coralyn was close to Roman’s great grandma. However, I had no idea she was so connected to her still.

“Anyhoo.” She waves her hand before swiping her cheeks, making me realize that she was shedding tears at whatever memories. “I have knitting books too if you want-”

I grimaced. “Thank you.” I didn’t have the patience to do that. My concentration power bounced back faster than my WiFi signal.

Knitting and crocheting was something I wasn’t fascinates about. Ariel on the other hand-

I mean, can anybody blame her though? She’s twenty two going on eighty two.

Coralyn shrugs. “I’m glad it was you. I couldn’t imagine if it were somebody else and I couldn’t the see the book ever.”

Gah, I said I was sorry, wasn’t I? But then again, why am I so cranky this morning?

Might have to have some connection with her waking me up telling me sleeping late was gonna make me old.

God, I wanted to cuss. But not at her, ofcourse. Never at her. She’s a sweet person but God, I was so sleepy and God forbid I don’t get my fill of sleep.

My peculiar behavior definitely had to do something with that. I hated being disturbed mid sleep but then again. It’s been this way since I was young, so I doubt it was going away soon. Being cranky if I didn’t sleep enough, that it.

I sigh.

“I came by to drop some sweets I had made.” Coralyn beamed taking out a Tupperware container from her Marry Poppins bag and placing it on the kitchen counter. “I’ll leave.”

“You don’t want to stay for lunch?” I asked. “I learned some good stuff from that book.”

“Nah.” She waved her well manicured hand as if waving me off. I suppose she was. “Boys are back from The States. I missed them. I want to make lunch for my boys and feed them.”

I nodded. “Okay.”

“You are welcome to come by of you want to.” She grins. “I know you don’t like it there, but still if you want to, I’ll make extra.”

I hummed in response.

“I’ll be about.”

“At least let me make you coffee?” I offered hoping she didn’t mind my aloof nature.

“Grazié.” The petite woman hummed. “But I rather go, I have to go to the farmer’s market and get stuff for lunch-”

“I thought you had stuff for that.”

She scowls at me. “I do. But I want to. Come by! I’m making pasta.”

It was after Coralyn had left, I turned on the espresso machine to get myself a morning coffee. If you could even call that. But whatever.

Roman had slipped out of the bed around four thirty or so. Half awakened by his body warmth leaving me, I vaguely watched him rummage through the room before vanishing into the bathroom. A shower later, he suited up answered calls from his right hand man and walked out of the room and them the house. The looming silence became loud again.

Warming up some left over from the day prior, I say on the table with a fork in hand. Debating of going to Coralyn’s was a good idea. Coralyn lived in a luxurious little villa just out of the city. Surouneded by absolutely nothing. Yes. Just trees and all that. Her property ensured absolute privacy. I didn’t like going there.

Even though the house was homey and cozy and warm, it constantly reminded me of something I didn’t have. A normal functional family. A mum whose utter most priority was her children and her home. Coralyn’s house was exactly that. A home. A very happy one nonetheless. The immature, little girl who lived inside me, was jealousy of it. The love. The warmth of a mother’s love and care.

I had never received that. Especially so after my daddy’s death. Money was Janice’s priority. And she made sure to let me know that everytime I was around. I sighed.

It was really immature of me to feel jealous of Roman and his brothers who had a family. A loving caring father who was alive. A mother whose love poured out from every pore of her skin and selflessness knew no bound. It even sounded silly to think about in my head.

Time after time they had made me feel like home. But let’s face it, the more they do for me, the more I fall for them. The more I want to be close to them, the more I want their company. But I wasn’t family. I was- I was just a girl who one fine day appeared out of thin air and made her air castle in their home.

I just wanted to go home. I thought. My apartment back in London wasn’t much. But it was all me. There was no temporary person there. No temporary love. No affection on borrowed time. And I loved it that way. What’s the point of borrowed goods? They only hurt when they aren’t there anymore.

With my appetite lost, I left the food on the table barely touched and sipped my coffee. It was rainy today. The skies were overcome with thick lump of clouds blocking out the golden sun. Ready to pour. How very perfect. I wondered. Going with my mood. Grey. Gloom. Sad. Lonely.

Making a sound of annoyance with me mouth, I pushed myself off the railing of the balcony walking back into the penthouse suite. I will go crazy if I don’t do nothing. But then again, what do I have to do? I was done cleaning the whole damn house last day and not gonna lie, it kept me sane. It did. Wondering back to Roman’s library, I took a seat on the red armchair, before the large book shelf. He had left a book on the little circular table. Page dogeared to where he stopped.

Roman was creepy. I thought. Shelves after shelves was stocked with horror and thriller books. Some autobiography of- uh- not so sane people and some other stuff.

Nerd. I rolled my eyes. Pushing myself back up from the chair, I walked toward his desk. The office chair looked like a throne. Rounding the desk, I took a seat on the leather chair. A weird shiver rand down my spine.

Why did I feel like I was doing something wrong sitting here? I asked myself. Maybe because I shouldn’t be sitting here in the first place?

Yeah. I reasoned. I shouldn’t be sitting here in tbe first place. This is not right.

But the photograph placed face down quipped my curiosity.

It’s going to kill you one of these days. My conscience muttered. But as usual I ignored the nagging voice, picking up the photo frame. It was the same photograph that I had seen before. Of his girlfriend. At the beach.

Why had he placed it face down? I wondered. But the answer I get makes my selfish, self centered side a little happy. I study the colour photograph.

Unboudtedly Maria was beautiful. Some one straight out of a lingerie photoshoot. High cheekbones, sharp and shapely jaws. Voluptuous tits, and a body to kill for. Curvy and blessed. I placed it the way it was on the desk. Fave down and grabbed the arm rest of the large throne like chair.

Is this how Roman feels everytime he sits here? I wondered. Powerful? Invincible? Or is it just like meh, for him? Ought to ask him that. Pursing my mouth I open the laptop that sat motionless on the desk. Powered up and flashing a dark wallpaper I snorted.

Weirdo. I accused.

Maria. I typed on the search bar as results popped up. Mariah Carey, Mariana Trench, oceanic trench, Maria Sharapova (the tennis player) Maria- that song by Hwasa. Groaning I scrolled, scrolled.

Roman DiMariano. I typed on the search bar once again. Now listen, I had an unhealthy obsession with him tbe first time I saw his pretty mug in television. Which led to certain stupid things I did. Yes, I wasn’t the brightest bulb in the room, at least than I wasn’t thinking. What was I even thinking.

But whatever, I had done my research on Roman. Which was- close to nothing. Nothing personal that is. I knew his company net worth and budget before I knew his full name and year of birth.

Every search result had provided These same unnecessary information. So I crossed out the window and surfed the internet. Watched some crappy YouTube and listened to songs instead. As much as I loved, loved to snoop around Roman didn’t have anything personal on his computer. Which made me wonder if not in his computer than where?

His phone was as bland as seventy eight year old Grandpas and his computer was as almost boring as him. Where does he keep the fun stuff? I questioned. There has to be some fun stuff in his black and white life, right? Obviously right.

I huffed.

By the time lunch rolled around, I got dressed to got to Coralyn’s after all. It hadn’t begun to rain yet, so I took that as my queue and got dressed in a nice dress, added heels and threw a pair of Roman’s sunglasses on my bag. Just in case it gets sunny.

Unlikely. My subconscious muttered at me as I made my way out of the penthouse and into the hotel area. I had called the driver already, the one who escorts me around and had informed him that I was going to Coralyn’s and that she was expecting me.

And boy, did she. The whole gang was at hers. Angelo too. Except Ariel. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Is Bubbles not here?” I asked Angelo sat on the lunch table beside me. Roman talking to his brothers.

“No.” He said unfolding his napkin.

“Is she not coming?” I pique.

“No.” Angelo sighs.

“Why not?”

“None of your concern.” He rolled his eyes at my repitative question. I glared at him.

“You’re too fucking rude, Devil-o.” I accused. “Doesn’t cost you to be nice.”

Angelo ignored me for rest of the meal.

“I’m so happy, you came.” Coralyn sighed as I carried a number of plates to the kitchen. She was eating from a plate of leftover chocolate cake.

“I had nothing better to do.” I shrugged.

“You want another cake?” She asked.

“Sure.” I grinned. “Did you make?”

“Alyssa.” She shook her head. “She makes amazing cakes.”

I nodded accepting the plate from her. “Thank you.”

“Mmm.” She hums. “Everything okay with you and Roman?”

“Yep.” I smiled. “Why do you ask?”

“Just like that.” She giggled. “It’s good to have a girl around.”

I nodded. “We’re fine.”

I returned home with Roman in the evening. After I had had enough cakes and coffee, we bid our goodbyes to the fam and drive to the Inn.

“Why are you so silent?” Roman asked as we entered the penthouse. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, why?” I asked.

“Your were behaving today.” He says. But I don’t understand if he is amused or annoyed. Or both. “You didn’t fight with Angelo. Didn’t annoy my mama. Or didn’t bug mama Alyssa- just checking of you are still here.”

“Ha- ha- ha.” I barked out. “So very funny aren’t you?”

“I’m plenty fun.”

“You’re boring.” I huff throwing my arms around his neck. The heels doing their part. “Very boring.”

“You looked good today.” He compliments. His hands tucked inside the pockets of his slacks. “I like your hair up.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A compliment?”

Roman rolls his eyes. “I’m going to take a shower.”

“You took a shower this morning.” I argue.

“Yes. But I want another.” He argues back, making me put my hands down from his neck. “You’re free to join me if you want.”

37

Roman doesn’t let me be on top. But today I fought. And lost. As usual. And usually my loss meant myself on my back and Roman between my legs. Ruthlessly fucking me. Slow. Oh so low. Taking his time. Torturing me. Ruining me. Making me cry out over and over.

Making me beg to go faster. And him tsking and admonishing me everytime I demanded those. But the end result turned oh so good. He fucked me so good. He ruined me of so good. He hurt me way too good to be true.

I raked my nails down his back, angry. He pushed inside slow and deep in punishment. “Roman please.” I cried out, squirming under him. His body strong and powerful against mine. I was loosing it. My sanity.

“Roman, damn it!” I cussed. “You monster, faster.”

“All in good time, puppy.” He grunted.

“Please!” I begged. “I need to come, oh, God!”

“Shh. Shh.” He cooed. His lips pressing a kiss on my sweaty cheek.

“Please!” I whimper. “Need to come so bad, Roman. Please.”

“Let me feel you, puppy.” He insisted. “You tight little pussy, stretched around my cock- let me feel you.”

I cried out once again as he pushed in slow, hitting the right spot. I cried out once again. His arms strong and heavy around my body, caging me to him, keeping me fixed where I should be. “Mmm- Roman.”

“Yes, puppy.” He rasps. “Cry out for me. Show me how much you want to come on my cock. Show me, puppy. My sweet little puppy!”

“Fuck Roman, you monster!” I cried trying to wiggle out from his hold. The pleasure undeniable but yet too much. Too much. I can’t take anymore.

My body can’t take anymore.

“Give me one more Blaire.” Roman hisses. “One more.”

“Fuck me, faster.” I demand.

“No, you are going to come for me slow, pup.” He groans. I can feel him swell inside me. “You are going to come for me. Again. Sí, puppy?”

“Yes, God. Yes!” I threw my head back. Eyes staring up at the ceiling. Stars. I could see stars at the back of my head. The familiar ache bloomed at the pit of my stomach spreading throughout my legs and core. Numbing tingling sensation. Roman kept pace. His grunts becoming heavy. His pushes becoming hard. Cock swelling inside me.

“Fuck!” I cuss out at my climax soars through my body, convulsing me, shaking me from the depths of darkness as if a bright blinding light awaits me. I close my eyes, mouth open in a silent scream. Roman jerks inside me and then he too stills.

Our breaths drop heavy on the silence of the room. The pitter patter rain outside the only other evidence of the world going on.

“Fuck you fucking monster.” I whispered as Roman pulled out and took off his condom. “You- you do this on purpose.” I accuse.

Roman flashes me half a smirk while I watch him tie a knot on the condom before walking toward the bathroom. Good.

I drag a palm down my body, studying the red blue purple marks on my chest and stomach. Roman was never the one to leave marks and I wasn’t sure if I disliked it. Not pondering over the thought, I rolled over on my back, eyes almost heavy as fuck.

Alyssa’s wedding was finally over. Now, when I got up from my beauty sleep this morning in Alyssa’s castle bedroom (Lorenzo is some duke, did anybody know? Me neither. Go figure.) Anyways, when I woke up from my beauty sleep in a castle guestroom surrounded by gauge and lace curtains hanging from the canopy of the bed, I did not DID NOT expect the rest of the day to go this way.

Fist thing was the dress. The Versace burgundy dress needed a little alteration around the hip area. Right? Who knew I was getting all curvy and all. But they messed up and it was a little tighter than I would normally go for. Than was the mess that was my hair. And then- the shootout.

I was glad that nobody accept Roman’s dad was alerted. I mean, to inform Lorenzo would be a disaster. He was going for a brief vacation with his wife. It would have jeopardized the whole planning, so Roman toon liberty and told his father instead. Marcus DiMariano was worried. A frown took over his features as Roman sat before him and filled in whatever had happened.

Turns out everybody donned a vest, just in case. Well, it saved Devil-o life so can’t really complain.

Angelo and Ariel had slipped out of the function just After Lorenzo and Alyssa took off in a very fancy car. I had bullied Coralyn into getting a heart shaped just married sign with silly balloons for the car. And she did. And we laughed about it later. Anyways-

Fifteen minutes later I was fresh out of a shower and had pulled in a pair of leggings and a loose T-shirt. Roman was in his office. Angelo had just arrived.

“Howdy.” I greeted the man. He was for a change dressed in just a button down shirt and jeans. I didn’t know Devil-o owned jeans but meh.

He gave me a nod of encouragement as he kept his eyes focused on his laptop screen. But that didn’t make me frown. The shiny figure beside him made me frown.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” I snapped.

“What is your problem?” Anne Beaumont replied in her posh french accent.

“What’s your problem?” I asked crossing my arms over my chest. “Why are you here? Have you no idea that it is rude-”

“Blaire, that will be enough.” Roman ordered as he made his way in, whiskey bottle in hand. He took the empty seat on the other side of the desk. “Anne was invited.”

“Invited?” I scoff. “You possibly cannot think of engaging her, into matters that happened today!” I accuse.

“Pardon?” Anne hisses.

“Go pardon yourself.” I rolled my eyes.

“How about you stop throwing stones in the air, Blaire.” Angelo added. “And take a seat. And calm your tits.”

Anne mumbled something under her breath before turning her attention back to her own computer.

“Where is Bubbles?” I asked out of spite.

“Sleeping. At home, where she should be.”

“Does she know you are here codling with bagu- Miss Beaumont?”

That earns me a glare from Devil-o. But whatever right? Whatever. He should be home. By his woman’s side not here. But then again, the reasonable part of me argues that the danger on Ariel’s life is what brought him here at the first place.

“I’m going to grab a bite to eat.” I announce before turning on my heels to stride out of the room.

The kitchen area is clean today. A result of my paused experimental period that came with Alyssa’s wedding. We had dinner at Coralyn’s today. She packed large boxes of leftover for both of us.

So I pulled out some of the chicken roast from the container and popped it into the oven. Midnight snack is always welcome.

“Are you here to shoot me or something?” I ask impassively watching the timer of my oven loose a second Everytime I blink. The clicking of heels evident in the air.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Blaire.” Anne replies.

“So you know how English works then.” I mock.

“Listen dude.” Anne scoffs. “I’m not here to bug you or something. I’m here because my friends need me, capisci? I’m not here to see your ugly mug, so don’t fatter yourself.”

“Don’t capisci me, Anne.” I scoff. “You pretend as if your intentions are pure-”

“Listen, I know what weird and absurd theory you came up with, but trust me none of them are true. It’s not even your head talking, it’s the pettiness and jealousy speaking.” She waves her hand as if trying to make a point. “Grow some brains girl. You cracked a DiMariano firewall. I expected more intelligence. Or has feeling clouded it?”

“You need to shut the fuck up-”

“I get you don’t have people around you to throw the truth in your face but here it is.” Anne rolls her eyes. “You’re petty and jealous. Roman and Angelo are my childhood friends. Okay? Get that through your head, they’re my friends. And I’d almost do anything for them. Sí?”

“Yeah. Yeah.” I sigh waving my hand about. “Retourne à ton trio.” (Go back to your threesome.)

“Ne vous manquez pas de respect. Grandir.” (Don’t disrespect yourself. Grow up.)

I give her a shrug turning to pop out the plate of chicken roast from the oven.

“You want chicken roast?” I ask just for curtsey sake.

“Nope.” She replies. “I don’t eat meat.”

“Of course.” I sighed. “Cake? Or do you not eat that either?”

“I love me some cake.” Anne agrees.

“So you eat egg.”

“Yes, Blaire.” She snaps annoyed. “I eat egg. I just don’t eat meat.”

“Gee- no need to be a bitch about it.”  I roll my eyes moving toward the fridge where there was left over cake in a fat box as well. Well, I might have nicked it or stole it- yeah whatever. There was a lot of cake.

I put a good slice on a plate and hand it to Anne with a fork.

“Merci.” Anne mumbles accepting the cake and taking the barstool across from me as her seat.

“De rien.” I shrug, picking on my food with a fork.

“Where’d you learn speaking French?”

“My mother’s a snob. And half French.” I shrug.

“Ah.” Anne nods.

“Why are you here anyway?” I ask unable to hel my snoopy self. “What’s the catch?”

“I am looking over security boundaries around Angelo’s place. “ She volunteers. “Some psycho shit going on he says. But you know that don’t you?”

“I didn’t know you worked security.”

“I don’t blame you.” She grimaces. “Your head is too far up your ass to see certain things.”

“I hate you.”

“Feelings mutual.” She agrees. “And not because I want to suck your man’s dick. Been there, done that. Your attitude needs to change.”

“Don’t tell me what needs to change.” I scoff. “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“Explains why Angelo can’t stand you.” She muses, making a face of disgust at me. “Talk to his girl this way, do you?”

Fuck that shit hurt. I thought as she polished off the rest of her cake and left. Wow. What a bitch I thought.

Yeah, I’m not a fan off Anne baguette either. Anne left the place long before I decided to join the men in the study again. With Roman’s laptop as my company, I sat on an armchair, having a three sixty view of minx on one window and the Giovnni house on other widow. Angelo was adamant for cameras in every room. Including the bedroom, something I didn’t entertain the idea about. I mean- yeah. Disgusting.

Anyways. I sighed, my head resting against the backrest of the chair while Angelo and Roman talked about whatever in heated tones. I fired up a chat with Eli checking if he was awake.

He was. Eli is the tech expert for the family. The ears of every organization. Himself a business man on the technology department and providing the family with whatever need in time.

The sound of chair scraping against the marvel floor makes me look up at Angelo an Roman. They were sharing a bottle of whiskey and a smoke. One cigar, passed back and forth between the pair of them.

I almost winced. Men. I thought.

“Ought you not go to bed, pup?” Roman asked making his way toward me. “It’s late.”

“Not sleepy.” I sighed looking up at his brown orbs. “Are you going to bed?”

“No.” He replies. “I’ll be stepping out in ten mins, max.”

“It’s there thirty.” I frown.

“Business doesn’t see time, puppy.” He impassively says. “I’ll be in the shower. Angelo will leave when he’s done.”

“You’re leaving me alone with him?” I grimace.

Roman raises an eyebrow as if I have insulated him and his trusted brother and right hand man.

“He hates me.” I add.

“You hate him back as well. It’s no news. You’ll survive.”

“Fine.” I huff as the man disappears out of the study. Leaving me alone with my thought, the surveillance of Ariel sleeping, cuddled with her yellow canary bird doll and both of her dogs.

Yes, Devil-o bought her a dog. Go figure. Where is the love in this world, for me? I wonder.

“Why do you hate me?” I ask, cutting the silence off. Angelo doesn’t turn to me, instead puffs the remains of the cigar. His attention fixed to his laptop.

“Oi?” I bug. “Why do you hate me, Devil-o?”

“That’s not my name.” He grunts.

“Fine whatever.” I huff. “Gimme an answer. It’s bugging me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me, you could’ve.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m your fan either.” He adds like an arrogant mother fucker. “I tolerate you.”

“For Bubbles?”

“For Roman. And Ariel. Sí.”

“Whatever.” I grunt. “Feelings mutual.”

“I know.”

“I don’t hate you, capisci?” I muse. “I hate what you did to Bubbles. Just saying.”

Angelo doesn’t respond to me after that. So I turn my attention back to the laptop screen. The bedroom of the Giovanni house sporting movement. My senses alert until I see that it’s just Ariel walking to the bathroom.

“I think it’s time for you to go home.” I pipe up. “She’s awake, just saying.”

“Shit.” Angelo cusses but then in a flash, I see him turn off his computer and pick the device up walking out of the office room door. The screen shows, Ariel standing before the bed, body clad in a floor length robe and then she makes her way to her side, plopping down on the bed face down. I laugh quietly shaking my head.

“I am going to cut off your connection from that surveillance.” Roman says hovering over me. Fixing his cufflinks.

“Ew, why would you do that?”

“This is not something you should be monitoring.” Roman shakes his head. “Besides, the bedroom is personal and not something you should be watching-”

“You mean Pornhub unsubscribed-”

“Inappropriate.” He admonishes. “Cut it out.”

“But-” I argue.

“Cut it out.” He orders.

“Fine, whatever.” I huff logging out. “There, fine? Jesus.”

“Sí.” He sighs leaning down and kissing my cheek. “Get to bed. I’ll be late.”

“You mean back for dinner?” I joke.

“Back for dinner.” He agrees.

Well, okaaay then.

Smoll chapter. But meh. Unedited. I’ll edit later. Not too much chatty today. I’ll leave that as it is. Byes.

Also, is the new cover bussin?

November .

38

“Why do you have a verified Instagram?” I asked Coralyn.

Yes, I had found myself coming over to her house once again. Because of the obvious reasons that I was bored out of my little mind. And that I felt bad about how I talked to her yesterday at lunch.

“That would be because I’m famous.” She replied using a wooden spatula to stir something in a saucepan.

“No, you’re not.” I replied clicking at one of her pictures and scrolling down to the comments.

“Yes, I am.” She huffs. “I’m famous. Goggle me. There’s a really pretty picture of me in wikki.”

I laughed but nevertheless kept scrolling through her very colorful Instagram.

“But what’re you doing on my Instagram anyway?” She asks. “Don’t you do some funny stuff. I mean it.”

“Gee, I’m not doing some funny stuff.” I retort. “Just looking at pictures.”

“Oh-okay, then.” She hums. “But do set up all those thingies you needa okay?”

“Yes, yes I will.” I reply going back to scrolling. Coralyn got a really new pretty purple phone she said and handed me a brand new iPhone so that I could set it up because- oh well, she can’t. And they’re is nobody home to do it for her.

Sweet woman even wrote down her passwords in pretty pink ink for me. I sigh.

“What are you making anyway?” I ask getting up from the chair I was occupying and wondering over to her where she was working on the kitchen. On the pan there was some rouge-y mixture on which she dumped generous amounts of marshmallow.

“Rice crispies.” Coralyn giggled. “I haven’t had them in a while and now that boys are back- they love them!”

I nodded. The idea of grown men loving rice crispies makes me want to burst into giggles.

“Your pretty purple phone is set up.” I announce. “I added your card too.”

“Tank you, sweet corn.” She hums.

“You’re welcome.” I smile.

A silence follows us. But it’s nothing the sort of uncomfortable silence that looms over like a grey  cloud. It’s good silence. I like it.

So, I thinker through the kitchen. Lusting over the new appliances she got recently.

“Blaire?” I hear her motherly tone.

“Mm?” I ask. “Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” She asks pouring the hot mixture of marshmallow and butter and what I saw her putting into the rouge thing over a large dish loaded with rice crisps.

“Sure.” I reply absentmindedly walking back to the chair I was occupying and taking a seat. It was almost lunch and Coralyn had sneaked me a piece of cake from the desert she was going to serve for lunch. I nibbled on the delicacy.

Usually, I am shoving food into my mouth but the again, something felt really off about today. I’m not sure what did, but it did. Everything seemed to be okay. Too okay. It bothered me. Never was everything too okay.

“Blaire?” I hear again. The sweet voice brings me out of my daze.

“Yes?” I look over at where she was standing. But by the look of her it feels as if she’s confused. Or conflicted. “You wanted to ask something?”

“I did.” She sighs wiping her hands on a clean flannel. “What is going on between you and Roman?”

The question comes at me like an Archer’s arrow. But appearing as unfazed as I always appear to be, I shrug my shoulders.

“What’s that gotta mean?” The petite woman narrows her eyes at me.

Silence follows between the pair of us as I nibble on my cake. My centre of focus turned one eighty.

“Now, if I wanted the silent treatment I would’ve just asked my boy, Blaire.” Coralyn added. Her voice gone from cheerful miss happy to serious mama in about seconds.

“I would tell you if I knew what it was.” I answered without looking up at her. “Truely.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She asks. “Don’t y’all talk? Have conversations?”

“We do.” I reason.

“Than how come you do not what y’all are doing?” She asks. “Is it a happy time thing or we’re looking in to the future thing or let’s see where it goes thing?”

“I think it’s just a happy time thing for him.” I reply with the shrug of my shoulders once again. “Ofcourse, I mean- we aren’t in a relationship if that’s what you’re thinking of.”

“That’s what I was thinking of.” She agrees. “But what do you think?”

“Whatever do you mean?” I ask.

“You said it was a happy time for him. But whatever is it for you, Blaire?”

“Does it matter?” I grimace even thinking about it. Because damn her for picking up that part out of everything that I’ve said right. Nosey lil thing.

“Ofcourse it matters, miss girly.” She rolls her golden eyes at me making a beeline to where I was seated, only to take a seat beside me. “Why won’t it matter? You’re into this whole fiasco too.”

“I don’t know what I want, Coralyn.” I admit. “I don’t know. My parents never had a steady relationship growing up. My mother wasn’t faithful and while dreams have been dreamt of white castles and all that, I don’t know what I want.”

“Okay.” She hums. “Do you suppose there is a fear of admitting what you want because you’ve never seen your parents have a good relationship with the other?”

“I suppose so.” I shrug. “But the also, there is this that I fell I’ll be trapped in a relationship. You know? Like, like, I’d feel I can’t breathe and once I admit that I want a steady relationship, I will feel as if I were caged and - it’s a feeling I really can’t explain.”

“I understand.” She nods. “There is a word for it.”

“Is there?” I cringe.

“Mm. Philophobic.”

“I didn’t know it was called something.”

“philophobia is the fear of falling in love. Or as you say getting stuck in a relationship.”

“Yeah, that.” I reply. “I’m scare of that.”

“Love?” She inquires.

“Yes.”

“Do you think you’re scared because of your parents or is there something else?” She asks.

“There’s nothing else. I’ve never been in a relationship before.”

“Mmm- let me tell you a story okay?” She smiled.

“Sure.” I replied.

“There was this little boy somewhere.” She begun. A look of nostalgia clouded her gentle features. “Growing up he was the apple of his mama and papa’s eyes. So very sweet and so very gentle. So very sensitive yet so very very strong.

“The little boy’s mama and papa made sure he saw love and care as he was growing up. So he wouldn’t be scared to admit when he did feel. His mama and papa brought him up with the utmost tender love and care. And in return he grew up to be such a lovely young man.

“However, as he transformed from a boy into a remarkable young man, the sweet boyish side of him started to hide behind an exterior that made him cold and calculated. But his boyish charm didn’t loose it’s shine.

The only people who he was a boy around was his mama and papa.

“And then came a beautiful young girl. Gentle and sweet. Oh so loveable. And the young men fell head over heels for the sweet girl.

Together the ventured through the battle field called love, hand in hand, laughing. Ever the strongest but the girl was wolf on sheep’s clothing. She ruined the young man. She broke his trust.

She played his heart and she left him shattered. And since then the the young man, who was so full of love and passion on the inside, vanished.

Poof! Just like that.

In his place was born a tyrant. A cold hearted emotion hiding man who was blank like a new parchment.

But it wasn’t because he was heartbroken. It was because he refused to let his heart break for the second time.“

I’m staring into her eyes by the time she’s done telling her very vague story. I didn’t understand if they resembled real people or that she just made up a little short story to explain philophobia. A word and a fear that I didn’t knew existed before ten minutes ago.

“So you see, every fear has a reason. You might just have to find yours.”

“But I said so.” I argue. “My reason was that my parents didn’t have a steady relationship. They fought. They argued. My mum fucked around with other guys-”

“Please don’t say fucked around.” Coralyn winced.

“Fine.” I huff. “She slept around with other men and there is that and then my papa was killed and I turned into a very much neglected child. My mother didn’t have time for me. Not that she did before papa passed away so there is that. I’m scared that if I admit to myself, I will turn like Janice, my mother and stuck being a fuck up like her.”

“Okay.” She hums. “Reasonable. I understand.”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “But not like it matters, right? Cause I’m alright with the happy time arrangement.”

“Are you?” She asks.

“I perfectly am.” I reply feigning confidence.

I hoped for Coralyn to store questioning me. I thought that it had ended the discussion but then again the woman goes ahead and covers my hand with her’s giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay to want something you want. And it’s okay to ask for something you want. You don’t have to do everything by yourself and figure out everything by yourself.”

I nodded. Because I was at a loss for words and I felt like I could cry right now.

“I didn’t know what love was until it was too late.” She adds adorably. “I didn’t come from a stable household either. My- situation was pretty messed up and messy. My mother was ignorant, my brother thought it was a child’s banter and then Marcus came in to my life.

He was the only person who had treated me like a woman not a little child. But then life happened, shit happened. He sent me away.

He thought I’d do better without him. I was almost dead without him. So take a moment in your head and go through it.

And please, communicate with him. He’s not as cold he appears to be, if you peel away those layers of him, you will find a man who’s very loveable. Hmm?“

I nod in response. But I don’t tell her that I didn’t need to peel away those layers to find him.

I wonder about the house much later that afternoon with my head still spinning round and round with all the things that Coralyn said. For somebody who is looking to go into sugar coma, she spits out pretty big girl facts and reasons.

I wish I had a mum like her. And maybe then I could be much more accepting and understanding and reasonable.

With a heavy head and a thumping heart, I peeled away my layers of clothing stepping into the shower. Italy’s heat was grilling me tender so slowly. I had tanned rather nicely and now my pale complexion looked much golden and shiny. Religiously, I scrub and wash myself in the shower. My head a mess. But I’ve already said that.

Once I feel clean, I dress myself in a pair of pajama bottoms and a chemise to take a much needed nap. I haven’t slept the most of last night and I had woken up shortly after Roman had left. Like he said, he was having a busy day and I hadn’t heard from him yet. Checking my phone I found zero missed calls and a couple of texts from Ariel. Replying her, I saw the bubbles of a typing text appear almost immediately. So we go back and forth a few times before I my eyelids become too heavy to stay open.

Blaire doesn’t feel fun today. Today is a very emotional day for Blaire’s head. And so she doesn’t want to think anymore. She just wants to get into bed and loose herself in the abyss of endless sleep and dreams.

But dreams don’t come to m. However, four hours of good nap does. Dreamless yet deep enough to give me the rest my fourth eight hour sleep deprived self needed. But it’s not that the fulfilment of sleep drags me out of my much planned and scheduled nap.

It’s a phone call. From Roman.

Smiling to myself, I receive the call.

“You’ve reached your sweet destination boss. How can this peasent–”

“Blaire.” He answers. But his voice sounds rather disoriented and panicked. A slight quiver but it doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Hey. What’s wrong?’

“Where are you?”

“At the penthouse.”

“I’m going to need you to come down to the hospital right now.” He orders.

“Why? What’s wrong?” I ask frowning but nevertheless rip the covers away from me and getting down.

“Mama. She’s had a bad reaction. I’m going to need you tell the doctor what’s she ate while she was with you.”

So far I remember, Coralyn did not eat anything for the time we were in tbe kitchen. And then for lunch we had gnocchi. She even skipped out on desert which was highly unusual.

“Is she okay?” I ask grabbing the first pair of trousers I get my hands on.

“No.”

Unedited and unrevised. I’ll pop up later in the evening to fix the typo and all that. But enjoy reading!!!

Let me know all about the chapter. What did you like?

Also, what’s wrong with mama Cora?

Have you read chapter one of Lorenzo and Alyssa’s book already? (The Under Boss’s Temptation)

If so how do you like the book so far? (I have lower expectations and esteem for that one already lmao)  anyway.

Also do leave comments and votes! They make my day. Toodles.

-November.

39

We wait for Coralyn to regain her consciousness in the spacious hospital room she was transferred to from emergency. Six incredibly angry men crowded the room as I had made my way into the space, feeling quite out of order.

Roman’s dad, Marcus had been talking in his phone in rapid fire Italian. His voice shaking with anger and I suppose it took him a lot of effort not to punch whoever he was talking through the device.

Oh well, scary nerve runs through the family no wonder.

After the doctor did a thorough check up on her, the lady in white coat asked the men to give the patient some time to heal. It was her way of saying that there were too many people. Apart from Roman, his dad and I, the rest of them made their way out. Marcus had stepped out of the room just for long enough to talk to Angelo’s dad for a while. And then he was back.

The tension in the room was palpable.

Not to mention that Marcus was really- uh- scary much older version of Roman. What I meant is o am not slightly envious of the person who was on the other side of his phone call. H sounded downright murderous.

Taking in the silence of the room, I really google Coralyn. And as right as she was, there was a really pretty picture of her in the wikki. Apparently little mama was a very successful businessman. She had a degree in psychology and owned a chain of flower shops across the continent.

Oh well. I grinned at the screen. Running a chain of flower shops is exactly what sounds like Cora would do.

Only her.

“Are you googling my mother?” I heard Roman’s voice. Standing before me with an ever present frown on his face, he peered down at me.

“She asked me to.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I said she wasn’t famous and she argued that she was.”

“She’s not famous.” Roman scowls. “She’s just well known.”

“Same thing.”

Roman sighs running a hand through his hair.

“Did they find out what was wrong with Coralyn?” I asked.

“Sí. Mama is allergic to soy.” Roman says. “It was an anaphylaxis, which is apparently life-threatening.”

“But we didn’t eat anything containing soy.” I reply. “We had gnocchi during lunch and that’s not soy?”

He’s lost me. I thought gnocchi was pasta made from potato and other pasta ingredients.

“I suppose something did have that. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here.” I felt Roman be agitated with increasing questions so I stopped.

“Oh, fuck.” I scoff. “What the fuck, I thought the kitchen staff knew her allergies an other issues?” Oh well, I’ll stop now.

“They do.” Roman sighed talking a seat beside me. “They do.”

“But how come she’s had a life threatening reaction if they did?” I reason. Last time, I swear.

“Don’t hyperventilate, puppy.” Roman chuckles. “You make my dad look normal.”

I huffed at his statement. “Is she gonna be okay?”

I had never been in the hospital to aide for a person before. Hell, I had only been in a hospital when I got food poisoning and it was my landlord back in London who brought me in and stayed till the next morning when I felt better.

But yet, Coralyn as healthy and hearty as she was looked almost ashen and frail in that God awful hospital gown as she laid senseless in that bed.

“Yes. She’s had her dose of adrenaline. She will be fine. I hope.” He sighs. “I don’t even want to think why would’ve happened if Julian wasn’t home.”

“Mm.” I hum diverting my eyes from the floor to the woman who laid in bed, connected to an IV. “She’s so small.”

Roman laughs.

By the time Marcus makes Roman and I leave Coralyn is yet to come to her senses. Roman says  the doctors have her a  sleeping injection so she could properly rest for the remaining of the night.

I ask Roman, if I could come over tomorrow and see her. He agrees. But even though he says that she will be home the moment she wakes up. Figures, mama dear isn’t a fan of hospitals.

I dialed Ariel’s cell once we were in the car. However didn’t tell her about Coralyn falling a sick since she was on a weekend trip with Devil-o in Positano. I felt telling her that Coralyn fell sick would worry her and she worries too much sometimes. Almost too much where it made me want to shake some sense into her.

But then again, all people are built different. So I refrained. I had asked when they were going to be back to which she had replied tomorrow night, we planned an outing for the morning next. Her voice sounded hoarse so I thought she and Angelo might have fought in their stay but then said they didn’t, which probably meant she screamed the other way and undoubtedly as late as it was- oops.

After demanding presents once she got back, I ended the call and on queue the car halted infront of the villa.

“You look worried.” I acknowledged Roman’s entire silent ride to home. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is.” He says getting out of the car, I follow him. “Why don’t you go up and I see you in some time.”

“You man around morning?” I ask folding my arms over my chest, raising an eyebrow.

“Sí.” He replies.

“And where will you be?”

“With mama, Blaire.” He replied as if I had missed that part of the conversation. I hadn’t.

“Sure.” I replied. “We could’ve stayed.”

“She gets fidgety in hospitals.” He said as if it was supposed to make up a reason. “Go up and go to bed.”

“Why couldn’t have I stayed?” I asked shaking my head. “I could’ve helped taking care of her, Roman. Y’all could’ve gotten some sleep.”

“I appreciate that, puppy.” He awards me with a teeny wee smile. “But go to bed. We’ll handle it.”

“Call me if you need anything.” I sighed. “I can drive.”

“I don’t trust you with my car, pup.” He raises an eyebrow. “Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Text me?”

“Sure.”

And that was that the last conversation between Roman and I. Even though he texted after Coralyn was discharged and went home, I couldn’t shake away the nagging feeling from my head. When Roman left it had been sometime around nine or ten. The night had well passed and morphed into morning yet, I didn’t have a clue of him.

I wondered if everything was alright? But then realized with Angelo gone for two days, work must have been treating him badly, so I let his absence slide and decided to do something productive. Like bringing myself out of the bed and getting some food for starters.

Unedited and short chapter. I know y’all are waiting very patiently for this book and to see the hea of the charecters of this book and trust me I’m trying but it just gets so hard to write when I’m not feeling the story or the charecters. In this case I’m not feeling the story. So I would appreciate some kinder words to replace the harsher when asking for updates. I am dealing with a lot right now.

Thank you.

Next update will follow soon. We’re almost done before the climax and that time jump is coming soon. To avoid confusion the time jump takes place to when Ariel and Blaire is in Florence. Two chapters more and we’ll be there. I’ve been busy with everything so I am glad y’all are still here to read. Or not. Either way. Leave some feedback on the comments.

-N.

40

I hadn’t seen Roman until after I had made myself a breakfast of toast and a cup of coffee. My texts were unanswered and calls were left to go to voice mail. There was no point of waiting around for him, I realized.

He had been coped up all day at the hospital with Coralyn and now he was bussed with workload. The situation concerned me yet, there was nothing I could do about it. Even if told the man to stop working for a couple of hours to atleast get his fare share of sleep, he would riot.

The next sensible thing that came into my genius mind was to pay a visit to the newly promoted patient aka Coralyn. I hadn’t called her in the morning knowing she was transferred back home from Roman’s last text. That was around four.

Which hospital discharges their patient at an hour like four in the morning? I suppose the one that has Coralyn for a patient.

It take me an hour to bake the woman a pie and wrap it in foil and dress my sorry ass up before I walk downstairs where the ever present driver awaits me.

Kidding. I called him before I went to shower.

The suite life of Blaire isn’t that fancy. But fancy nevertheless because I wear Balenciaga slippers. See, fancy.

The drive to the Estate of the infamous DiMariano family takes me almost fifteen minutes. Of all I spend talking my best friend over the phone.

Well, atleast one of is getting some tan. I think whistful. And dick.

Ariel says she’ll be back tonight and that they’re gonna take the evening train. I don’t understand why take the train when they have luxury cars? Mind you Devil-o and bubbles too the train on their way to Positano as well.

Maybe it was their thing.

It still makes me grimace at the turned off screen in my phone.

“Miss Anderson?” The driver talks to me in clear American accent. “We’re here.”

“Oh thank, Pietro.” I thanked my driver as opens the door to get out. “I’ll be late. Call you when it’s time to leave?” I ask already dreading the mile long oath I have to walk.

“Sure, ma’am.” He nods.

“Cool.” I sigh as I stare ahead where the mansion lies. Groaning I take one torturous step forward. The estate house was old. Ancient even, approximately made in the sixteenth century by Roman’s something great great and some more generation back grandpa for his second wife and their children after his first wife died of some disease.

How did I know that?

I’ll let on a secret. Anybody wanting to know anything about the family and it’s history only needs to butter up Coralyn real thick and she’ll talk like the sweetest cannery.  It was sweet. Often it didn’t even need buttering. It was awe inspiring and admirable how she moulded into this family. Loved the family she was married into.

But the again, it wasn’t much big of a family anymore. Coralyn often remembers her grand mother in law. Apparently she was a big fan of the deceased woman.

Anyways, back to the damned house. It was fucking ancient but well cared for. That’s what happens when you’re rich in glittering shine emoji. The walk from the main gates to the hose was long and made me want to cry everytime I came by and had to walk up to the house because no car stopped directly infront of the house gates.

The lady of the house hated it and so it was a nono. Cars straight went to garage. Apart front the little vintage Chevrolet she drove in powder yellow. That copper junk was apparently royalty and had the permission to stop at the house gates. Like it was sitting motionless now.

I was a usual comer and goer of this house so I don’t much as even bother to knock to let my presence know. And apparently today was the day that I was too used to my usual life and got myself scared.

Oops.

“Jesus, Blaire!” Coralyn gasped tidying herself as she evicted the seat she was perched up on her husband’s lap. Dressed in a baby blue pants suit outfit she was trying make herself appear as decent as possible in her condition while Marcus sighed an pushed himself off the couch, unapologetically moving out of the room and up through the stairs.

“Don’t you knock?” The older woman muttered with a frown.

“Don’t you close the door?” I ask with a raised eyebrow. “Puppy shame.”

“Puppy shameless.” She points at me. “What did you bring me?”

“Oh, apple pie.” I show her the tinfoil covered desert plate I carried. “Cause you’re sick and all and an apple a day keeps the doctor away.”

“Impressive.” The older woman grins. “I was about to leave for a meeting though, but they can carry on without me, I guess.”

“Oh?” I frowned. “I thought you were a flower shop girl?”

“I am.” She beamed. “I have stocks and investments too. I’m not as stupid as I look, Blaire boo.”

“You don’t look stupid.” I assure her with a shake of my head. “Wanna have a piece of pie with me?”

“Ofcourse.” She says like duh.

“I hope you have canned whipped cream.” I singsong making my way to the kitchen with Coralyn in my heels.

“No canned whip cream, please.” She grimaces. “I’ll make some. Take a seat and cut that delicious goodness up.”

Coralyn shrugs off her Armani suit jacket revealing a sleeveless white blouse underneath and get to work, to make some whipped cream.

It isn’t until after lunch Roman texts me. Even though I should be angry, relief floods me. I reply quickly to his text that I was visiting Coralyn and we were gonna cook dinner together. If anything I expect a reply back. But the man rings me the money green tick marks appear on my screen telling that he’s bread the text.

“Yellow.” I chirped into the phone. “Somebody remembers.”

“I’m not the man to forget, pup.” He sasses. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask grimacing at the scene before me. Marinated chicken. Oh my God.

“For being a kind person.” He sighs. “Thank you for visiting mama. I am sure she appreciates that.”

The made me smile like a loon. “Of course. And she better appreciate my extravagant ass, Roman. She better.”

Roman chuckles. “How’s your day been?”

“Good.” I replied. “How was yours?”

“Tiring.” He accepts. “But reliving.”

“That’s good.” I smiled. “You’ll come over for dinner ofcourse?”

“Undoubtedly.” He replies without a beat. “And I’ll take you for desert afterwords.”

Anticipation pools inside me as I try to cover up the creepy smile that spreads through me. “I’d like that.”

“I’m glad.”

“Good.”

Unedited and short. Forgive me. (╥﹏╥).    (╥﹏╥)  anyway-

Roman pov next chapter hopefully day after tomorrow yay.

-November.

discontinued

This book is discontinued and has been for quite some time.

epilogue

Blaire’s POV (a couple years and some incidents later)

It was a horribly cold winter morning in Italy. And it was very rarely horribly cold and then people would still deny climate change. Bloody- Anyways, I was cutting back on cussing for a greater margin these days because James, my sweet baby boy, had picked up a couple of bad words from mama and Roman was not happy about it. Yes. He hated Jamie baby using works like ‘fucking imbecile’ not fit for a four year old I suppose.

Well, a little life update may be due at this point, I suppose. I was Blaire DeMarino now. Yes, I finally married Roman after endless groveling and growing up. I have a little boy whom I named James, just to break traditions and piss Roman off. That was one hobby that I still enjoyed and I celebrated my twenty-seventh birthday last month. Who knew my birthday and devil-o’s birthday would be so close together. He turned thirty something three days before me. Fucking old. And yes, I did give him a healthy amount of Viagra pills, just in case his age messes with my best friend’s sex life. Hehe. It was a blast.

After Roman and I fell out when I moved back to England, I realized there was a lot I was missing. The apartment was just that- an apartment and not a home. I missed everything and everyone in here. I couldn’t stay long even though my pride and my rage made me stay some time. I came back to Roman because- well, isn’t that what happens when you love someone? Well I suppose. Roman and I got married some time after and then we waited some time to have a child. It wasn’t that the pregnancy was planned but it was not unplanned either. And my eight months twenty seven day long pregnancy was smooth as it could go, thank you for asking. It was Ariel who had the most trouble. Yikes. Do not fancy her pregnancy. Anywho Bubbles had two of those kids now. And me one. And they were the best things of life now. Blaire and Bubbles were mothers now and they did boring mother things like bake cupcakes and separate mint chocolate from nutty chocolate and discuss the hardness of poop. Yeah. Disgusting. But it is what it is because yes, motherhood for me was a full time job and everything else just didn’t exist. This part of life was exciting and definitely unexpected. The love, the love alone was worth fighting for. But right now, I am freezing.

It was freezing.

“What the fuck-” pause “are you fucking doing outside?” It was Roman if anyone couldn’t tell, my husband of five years and a couple of days who apparently just woke up and found it would be nice to to cuss at me. Wrong. He thought wrong. As always.  “Get the fuck inside.”

“Don’t say fuck.” I said, craning my head to look at him. “If I can’t say fuck you can’t say fuck.”

“Get inside Blaire, for fucks sake. It’s raining and you’re wearing - just a fucking shirt.

“Stop saying fuck.” Even though I grumbled and gave him a side eyes look of annoyance I got inside through the window slash door I used to get outside. It wasn’t really raining but it would soon start. So I got inside. “You’re a bad person.”

“Yes, I know a puppy.” He said, closing the door behind me. “Why are you up so early anyway?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” I pouted. Yes. I pout now, kill me. I love my husband and he’s actually nice when he wants to be. When I’m not pulling off his nerve endings he’s actually good to me. Unbelievable. The fuck is better when we’re both unhinged. It happened one night that we were both at Minx. Roman was not working. That was Devil-o’s night but we were both there and we kind of had a little taste of opium, and it still was the best sex of my life. I think we made Jamie that might. But I don’t want to correlate my baby’s existence with that thing, thank you. “Did you check on the kids?”

“Yes.” Roman replied as we both moved toward the kitchen. “Out like bulbs. They’ll be in bed for at least some hour more.” I glanced at the large wall clock, it was only half past five on a weekend. No way they’ll be up before nine or something. I don’t bother them in weekends like Ariel who is a sucker for routine and everything. No Sugar before bed, no TV before bed, this and that. I don’t mind a lil candy before bed.

Together Roman and I made coffee and opened a tin of biscuit that we carried to the living room sofa as an early breakfast. Me safely and soundly tucked under his arm, and him all large and strong behind me, with a book that he was reading. Despite my nagging, all these novels barely read out loud to me. I think obsessive readers can’t focus like that very much but anywho, I made peace with it. Just his presence was enough for now. Absent-mindedly I stroke his arm and kisses all his fingers with utmost care as if he was almost fragile. Which this big bad mob boss was in some cases. I couldn’t wait for James and Icarus to grow up and take some weight off their fathers’ shoulders truly. This man worked too much and too long. And I needed him home more than I could care to admit. I rarely went to the office now and worked mostly from home whenever I wanted.

“What’s wrong pup?” Roman asked, turning a page of his horrid book. “You seem needy.”

“I am needy. Always.” I grumbled cuddling up to him. “Tell me again-”

“What?”

“Why can’t Bubbles have the boys tonight so we can have hot sweaty sex till sunrise?”

“Because she’s kept them for two weekends so you could have hot sweaty sex till sunrise and she deserves a break?” Roman laughed. “You keep forgetting deals you make, puppy. Old age is catching up.”

“Fuck you. Do you think Bubbles is pregnant again? She’s put some weight on.”

“I’d rather you be pregnant again.”

I groaned. “Roman!”

“Just saying pup. You’re pretty all swollen with my seed” He kissed the crown of my head. “And always needy. I love it.” I hid my face on his chest. We were having sex non stop. And after James we wanted to have another baby without too much of a gap but- it was taking some time. However the thought was there but neither of us voiced it. Roman knew how much it hurt me when my monthly course started every month and I knew how much it pained him to see me hurt every month. I tried to see the brighter side that I was blessed with the sweetest little boy ever and then I had Ariel’s two boys who called me mama bear too but the thought, the nagging feeling never left me. Maybe God was punishing me for all the bad things I did to the man I loved and the man who loved me. But I did everything I could. I went to church weekly, I contributed to the community,bi tried to help people, I confessed, I even went to a psychiatrist to help me through, while some of the things worked some didn’t and the fear sometimes didn’t let me sleep at night.

“What are you thinking?” Roman asked, putting his book down? “Hmm? You’re quiet.”

“I am thinking about what I want to wear to church.” I nuzzled his soft cotton t-shirts. “I don’t want to repeat outfits, the ladies are a bunch of hyenas with their little lace gloves and all that.”

“Really now? You expect me to believe that someone bullies you for what you wear to church?” He chuckled. “The days we are seeing!”

“I know right!” I exclaimed. “Look at me, be all good and nice and timid, the world starts to make fun of me. Ugh!”

“Blaire. It’s fine.” There was a sort of- serenity in his eyes. I knew he was not talking about the church ladies or the gloves. But there also was hope in his eyes and belief. I don’t know if I could hold up to that hope. Roman made me happy. There was no doubt. He was the only one who made me happy without a reason and then again, I didn’t know how much happy I made him but his hopeful eyes and his hopeful words scared me. I was seeing a doctor, which Roman had no idea about, neither did the rest of the family. But still I was scared. I wanted to give him all that he ever wanted and here I was.

“Obviously it’s fine.” I rolled my eyes and assumed my position back in his arms. “You’re here, I’m here we have coffee and mama’s perfect biscuits and the boys upstairs sleeping to their heart’s content. Obviously it’s fine.” And on queue loud noise echoed throughout the house and childish commotion disrupted the silence.

“Oh my goodness, it’s fucking raining!” It was James and he was yelling. And Roman was giving me the most disappointing eye he could muster early in the morning. Damn I am a bad mother.

“Oops?”

Figuratively, of course. It’s just he picked a bad cuss word - ughhh! I am a bad mother!

Roman’s POV

The morning was peaceful until the yelling, the crying, the tantrums started at six. One would think that on a Sunday a man could spend some time with this crazy wife without a bunch of miscreants causing havoc down the stairs and breaking them in the process. Peace was never an option in this house. Not on Sunday a s especially not when these three were together. James, my son- my son was closer with Icarus in age. A year apart and then there was Arius, the youngest and also one year younger than James and the one always left behind. I didn’t understand why. He was as intelligent as his elder brother albeit a little temperamental. Maybe all that coddling made him messy. Either way Arius was a little anger machine and rarely anyone could get him to cool down except for Angelo. He had a way with kids and honestly, I envied how easily he could do that. With James everything was trial and error. Mostly error because that’s why he cussed like a sailor at four.

“Dad?” Speak of the devil. James was Closely followed by Arius who, as soon as he entered sat on one of the fluffy cushions Blaire has for when they play on the floor. Arius liked to keep to himself when he wasn’t really interested in what his brothers were doing. A lone soldier.

“Yea?”

“Why do we have to go to church now?”

“Because we do.”

“Well, I don’t want to.” He huffed, planting himself on the rug before me as I got ready for church. Blaire attended church regularly and I figured I might as well accompany her even though I cared very less about the sermons and everything else. Blaire on the other hand was a different breed. But I let her do her. If my wife wanted to go to church, she bloody well would.

“Well, my boy, it’s not up for discussion.”

“I no like sitting on the chair and the father talk no like.”

“You have to, cause you need to learn about God and what he says and how he wants us to live.” Blaire entered the drawing room, screwing on little pearl studs that went with her off-white church appropriate dress. “You have to go because you’re a good boy and good boys go to church.”

“Well, I no like it mama.”

“Mmm.” Blaire hummed thoughtfully. I have no idea how she found colorful ways of parenting but she did and I was fucking thankful for it. “Well, there is a little story session today.”

“What fun is that?” This boy never had enough answers to his unending questions. And I love him to bits.

“Bible stories are fun.” I intervened. “Nona used to tell me those all the time.”

“Why no Nona tell me now?” His big brown eyes looked up at me with confusion.

“Well, she’s the one telling it at church today.” Blaire clarified.  “Does that make you look forward to church?”

“I think?”

I chuckled. “Alright, lil guy, come let’s get you and your brothers ready for church.”

I tied three little ties and secured them with tiny little pins. After the boys looked pretty decent, I sent them downstairs for Blaire to help them to a little breakfast before church and got ready myself. Over the years that I was married I found significant changes in myself and in Blaire. I think she grew up the most and at present she was the most put together parent of the two. Except for using bad words. She did that sometimes but that was fine. We’ve been married for some time now and honestly this life agreed with the pair of us. And after having James, it was blissful. Chaotic. But blissful.

“Roman!” My wife yelled from- wherever she was in the house. “We’re getting late!” I didn’t answer her. Because we were not getting late and I wanted to rile her up. It was fun and I liked having fun. Blaire’s new found obsession with church and religion was a bit unsettling before but then it slowly made sense to me. So I didn’t stop her from doing what she wanted to. I supported her instead. She wanted to stop working at the office, well hallelujah! It was the best of the both worlds for me, because one, my wife won’t be in danger twenty four seven because sitting in a room with a computer can bring her enough trouble and two, I really loved the housewife version of Blaire. Even though her cooking was still a work in progress. The way Blaire changed seemed like a penitence but the change was welcome. It was a transition from a  girl to a woman. But there was regret too.

Regret that I stood strong and proud when I should have been soft and gentle with her. I should her ideals when instead she needed and wanted love even though she didn’t know that. But there was hope too. There was a hope that everything would work out just fine and so far it has.

“Well you took long enough.” She was already fuming when I climbed down the stairs. “How long do you even need to put in a shirt and pants!” She whined.

“Stop whining.” I rebuked. “Get in the car.”

“Make me.”

“Shut up and get in the car before I make you.”

“Ouu scary-” she mocked before she turned and walked before me with a little sway to her hips, a little wider now than they were before. And a whole lot of juicer.

God, I was going to enjoy a meal after church.

“Roman, hurry!”

Jesus Christ.

Author’s Note:

An epilogue for the babes as promised. Um~ feel free to say stuff I guess? It was easier to write Blaire than I thought it would be and harder to write Roman. Anywho. I hope I’ll be able to fill in the blanks to the story later sometime and it won’t be in the discontinued pile much longer.

Thank yous~

N

new new new new

Hey guys!

Now that we know how Blaire and Roman end (on a happy note, duh) and how they fell into a peace and tranquil life, for me this was the end of the Mob Boss series but like you know me and my stuffs~

I can’t seem to let go!!

So next generation?

Arius’ Story anyone?

Arius is Angelo and Ariel’s middle child, who in future holds the reign to the family rather reluctantly forced by the situation (if we have the book it’ll be more clear, no spoilers but that’s it)

It would be an arranged marriage, forced proximity - love-hate story (the  girl will be from a rival family)

So let me know if you’d like a story for Arius and Josephine

Comment to let know, please

Themks