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Adriana is fast asleep on my bed. I can’t seem to get my hands off her. We had sex again last night. It felt incredible with no condoms. The way her body responds to me makes me do unreasonable things. Like cumming in her again.
And I’d be lying to myself if I said it didn’t feel damn good fucking her skin to skin.
She has creases on her head as she sleeps. It makes me wonder what all the thoughts on her mind are that still disturb her even in her sleep. My instincts push me to kiss the lines off her pretty face. Fuck. Adriana is getting to me too hard. I can’t let that happen.
But the more sex we have, the more I feel a part of me softening up to her. She’s fucked me up. And I told her so. Now she knows she has my heart. And frankly, I am sick of this constant back and forth battle between my head and my heart… or rather dick I should say. But my head keeps insisting that I shouldn’t put all my trust in her. Fuck!
I roll to the other side of the bed, staring at the empty space instead of her face.
Daniel would pick me up in an hour’s time to drop me off at the airport for a business trip. Adriana has no idea I’ll be gone before she wakes up.
I’m leaving for Bolivia in place of my father to meet with a new client. Father has stepped down from his duties since Madre died. He is still at the safehouse as Aldo still breathes. I’m not letting anyone close to me fall into his plans anymore.
Daniel will watch over Adriana while I’m gone. Even though we aren’t on agreeing terms just yet because of Father, he is the only one I can trust with Adriana. I pull the sheets off my body and roll out of bed.
My wounds haven’t healed completely; they hurt when I stretch. I’m walking naked into the bathroom to take my shower. The cold drops of water fall on my body, causing tiny goosebumps on my skin. I scrub my body hard, recalling the events of last night.
It hits me hard. Madre wouldn’t call me ever again, and I wouldn’t get to hold her in my arms. It’s all my fucking fault for not protecting her. I let the one person who meant the world to me down, and now I’ve lost her. I fucking lost her and there’s no damn thing in the world I can do to bring her back.
But I know this… I will not rest until I shed his blood; Aldo’s blood for Madre’s blood. He better triple his man power now.
I won’t lose Adriana too. The thought of losing her disturbs me.
My hair drips as I step out of the shower. She is still asleep when I walk back into the room. The towel is hanging low on my waist as I walk to the closet to grab my clothes.
I don’t want Adriana to be awake when I leave. I’m trying to get her out of my head…Here comes my head pushing again… against my heart.
I slip into my favorite white shirt, folding the sleeves by my biceps, with tailored black pants to pair. The morning becomes brighter with the rays of sun slipping into the room through the tiny spaces between the curtains. Adriana turns, groaning lightly.
I walk out of the room with my suitcase, closing the door gently behind me. Daniel’s call pops up as soon as I walk to the living room.
“Get your fucking ass out and let’s leave.” He cuts off the call immediately. I walk out to see his car parked by the gate.
Stronzo (Asshole).
He has the engine on as I slide into the seat beside his.
“Adriana?”
“Still asleep. She has no idea I’m leaving for Bolivia.”
He nods, driving the car out of the gate.
“I'm sorry about Madre,” he says as we drive to the airport.
He still has no idea what my mother did. I make an uneasy sound while adjusting in my seat. My eyes are glued to the road as the ride falls quiet. Neither of us wants to clear the air about our last fight. We arrive at the airport thirty minutes before my flight.
“I’ll let you know when I get there,” I say as I walk out of the car. Daniel nods a response before zooming off.
***
This trip would pave the way for new branches in other locations. I can’t fuck this up.
A driver in a silver Rolls-Royce Spectre picks me up from the airport in El Alto. He takes my suitcase to the car trunk and slides into the driver’s seat. The air smells different as I enter the car. He is dressed in a black suit with perfectly dark trimmed hair.
“Welcome to Bolivia, Signore Alessandro Malgeri.”
A bottle of whiskey with a wine glass is sitting next to me.
