CAPO

34. Italian *

Arabella was picked up out of the bath by Giovanni. He snaked his arms around her back, effortlessly standing with her in his arms.

He set her down on the tiles then, ignoring her questions and protests. He put the white towel around her shoulders, drying himself off with the other as she watched him, completely entranced by the man.

He shrugged on the oversized shirt Arabella had given him, and his previous trousers, messily tugging the shirt in and the girl changed into her clothes from before. She was rushing due to Giovanni telling her to be quick as he made his way out of the bathroom, aiming straight for her notebook of her bed.

He held it in his forearm as he lit a cigarette, using a glass as his ashtray. Arabella made her way out of the bathroom, seeing Giovanni sitting at her kitchen island, hearing him mumbling something in Italian.

Confused, the girl made them both coffee, sliding Giovanni his mug. He picked it up, "Grazie," He murmured, bringing it to his lips.

"What are you doing?"

He didn't answer.

Arabella sighed, taking a sip from her own mug. She stood and merely watched him. His fingers worked quickly and his eyes followed as he wrote in her notebook, his jaw ticking as he concentrated.

Finally, he looked up. She was standing on the other side of the island and Giovanni parted his lips, "Venire," He called out as he retreated back to her living room, taking seat in the chair next to his smoking spot.
[Come.]

Arabella set her mug down and followed behind him, watching intently as he lifted the paper, his eyes snapping to hers. His hand that rested on his thigh lifted, and he patted his thigh.

Arabella swallowed, turning and planting herself on his lap, her red, matching a ripe tomato.

He handed her the paper and she frowned at it. Italian words written in neat, near perfect handwriting. It was the entire page full, black swirls and small periods, two large paragraphs.

"What am I doing?"

"You're reading that out loud,"

"Gio, I can't. I'm not that good at Italian." She heard him chuckle behind her, "Exactly. That's why I'm teaching you, doll. Go on,"

So, without further protest, Arabella concentrated hard on the words in front of her. She had gotten half way through the page when she felt Giovanni's warm hands snake under her shirt, his hands rubbing her back.

She stuttered, and from behind her came a hard, stern, "Again."

"I can't focus with you doing that," She whispered. Giovanni hummed, "Inizio, Arabella,"
[Start]

She inhaled deeply, trying her best to ignore how his hands felt on her. She started again, reading an excerpt from one of her favourite books, but just in a completely different language.

His hands moved to her front and they snaked between her breasts, making her shudder.

"Again,"

She groaned in protest, but obeyed. She focused harder the third time, completely ignoring Giovanni. This time, she messed up on her own, and she grew annoyed.

"I can't do this!" She whined, leaning back against his chest. The man chuckled deeply, the sound causing Arabella's skin to erupt in goosebumps.