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“I aim to please,” she says, smiling at me.
“If you wanted to please me you would …” I start, but she shuts me down before I even finish that sentence.
“I’m not sleeping with you.”
I shrug and finish the rest of my wine as we both smile at each other.
“I’m going to clean up. Why don’t you go have a shower and sort out your little problem,” she says, standing up and grabbing her plate before grabbing mine.
“I’ll leave the door open if you want to watch again.” I chuckle as I push back my chair and get up from the table. Natalia glares at me, but this time, I don’t feel any anger behind it.
22
NATALIA
Last night started as a shit show but then ended not at all like I thought it would. I think we may have even come to a mutual appreciation of each other. Ew. Even that thought sends shivers of disgust down my body. I thought at bedtime he would push me again on the sex thing, but he didn’t. He played on his phone for a bit and then rolled over and went to sleep. Not sure if I should be offended or not.
I was up early this morning and thought I would do something nice for Alessandro because even though last night was what it was, he stopped me from getting into a car while I was angry, upset, and over the limit. He could have let me go and ruined me or let me ruin someone else’s life, but he didn’t and I’m thankful for that. Marco told me that Alessandro usually has porridge to go for breakfast as he eats it in the office, but he didn’t explain how he made it. I’ve tried so many times, but it keeps burning and sticking to the bottom of the pot. Urgh.
“What are you doing? Trying to burn the house down?” Alessandro asks, stepping into the kitchen and looking at me bewildered.
I still for a moment taking him in, he’s dressed in a navy blue suit this morning, a white business shirt with no tie, his hair is wet from his shower and tiny droplets have fallen onto his shirt, wetting it. He looks good. I frown at myself for that thought. “I was trying to make you breakfast seeing as I was the reason you lost your chef,” I explain.
He stills. “You’re making breakfast for me?” I nod. “I’m guessing you don’t know how to make breakfast?”
“Your breakfast, I don’t know how to make yours.”
“I appreciate the effort, but I can grab something at the office,” he tells me.
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“I’ll make inquiries about a new chef today.” He grins. Yeah, that’s probably for the best. “I’m sure you have something better to do this morning than making my breakfast, like yoga, or I’m sure you have content to post?”
His flippant comment deflates me, I thought we made some real headway last night, but I guess I was wrong. My eyes narrow on him. “You still think I’m some ditzy socialite, don’t you?”
Those slate-green eyes widen at my accusation. “No, that’s not what I meant. How the hell did you get that from my comment?” he asks.
“Don’t you have something better to do like yoga or posting content,” I say, mocking him.
Alessandro holds up his hands in confusion. “You were literally doing yoga yesterday when I came downstairs in the morning, and now when I ask about it, it’s an insult.”
“Of course it was. I was trying to make you breakfast because I felt bad over you losing your chef and to, I don’t know, give the tiniest bit of an olive branch, but then you look at me like I’m an idiot because I don’t know how to make porridge from scratch because, literally. Who the hell knows how to do that? Maybe some homesteaders online do but certainly not me. But then you tell me, why don’t I go and do some yoga or post some pretty photos instead because I’m useless at making breakfast. That all I’m good for is downward dog and posing,” I yell at him.
Alessandro stares at me blankly. “Someone seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”
Urgh. “Men,” I yell as I throw my hands up in frustration and walk away from him.
“Natalia,” he says, calling my name. There’s laughter in his tone as if me flying off the handle is amusing to time. He grabs my arm and softly stops me. I let out a heavy sigh, turn around, and cross my arms in front of me. “You should have taken up my offer last night, it might have put you in a better mood. I would happily let you downward dog all over me.”
My mouth falls open at him. “Asshole,” I curse as I stomp away. His deep laugh is all I hear behind me.
“Have a good day, wifey,” Alessandro calls out to me as he leaves the house.
I mentally flip him off. Then an idea pops into my mind, maybe Alessandro is right, and I’m a little tense. I have always had a healthy sexual appetite, and being around him has tainted it. I like to start my day off right by getting off, and I can’t do that knowing he has security watching his home twenty-four-seven, which is creepy, but I guess when you’re a Conti your list of enemies is long. Still, I feel violated that he watched me yesterday without my knowledge. Liar, you thought it was hot but didn’t want him to know that. Maybe. But he still violated my privacy. You moved into his home. True. You violated his privacy. Urgh. Whatever, I’m not going to argue with myself about this.
How long does it take for him to get to the office? It is peak hour, so a while, I would think. I don’t even know where his office is. Grabbing my phone, I search for his head office and then type it into directions. It says it’s going to take him about thirty-seven minutes, that’s enough time for me to sort myself out before he gets to work. He will be none the wiser. I can be stress-free and able to deal with his bullshit better. Yes. Perfect plan.
I rush up the stairs to our bedroom, find my friend, and lay myself down on the sheets, getting comfortable. My heart is thundering in my chest as I quickly scan the room, but I can’t see anything, no camera but it is somewhere. I don’t know how these high-tech gadget things work, but who cares? I have a spare couple of minutes all to myself. Thank goodness I’m still in my sleep shirt as I start sliding my friend between my thighs. I turn him onto the medium setting as I need to get off quickly as I’m starting to panic that I’m going to get caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
