𝘐𝘯 𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘓𝘪𝘧𝘦

Chapter. 8

Ayla

Fuck me.

This is fucking great.

I can't have anything nice in life.

Just when I thought things were going well with Noah.

Hot, freaky Italian man from Paris is his father.

This is what I get for fucking him, isn't it.

But fuck, it was a fucking good fuck wasn't it.

"Dad, this is Ayla." He cocked a brow at me with a evil smile.

Cocky bastard.

"I'm Matteo, it's nice to meet you." His accent rolling off his tongue.

Fuck.

I shook his hand, feeling it the same way as I did only a month ago.

I was too stunned to say anything.

"Ayla?" Noah whispered.

I lost his gaze and snapped out of it.

"You too." I smiled.

"You didn't tell me you were home?" Noah spoke as I leaned backwards into him, staring at his father.

The flashes of our night together.

"I didn't want to wake you, and I needed a shower." He referred to the towel wrapped around his waist.

"Ayla and I will be downstairs, I'll make some eggs if you want any?"

"I'm gonna get some rest, the Jetlag is starting to hit."

"Okay, come on." I followed him down the stairs until turning my head to see him staring down at me.

I quickly turned my head and followed Noah into the kitchen. Sat on a stool as Noah began to cook.

"Scrambled or sunny side up?" He asked.

"Scrambled please."

There was some silence before I spoke.

"How come you don't have an accent?"

He spun around with a frown while leaning over the counter.

"Dad wasn't born here, English is his second language. He actually met my mom in Italy while she was on vacation."

"Do you know Italian?" I asked.

"Little." He pushed his fingers together.

"Show me."

"Okay um.. Sei così bello."

"What does that mean?" I smiled.

"You are so beautiful." He pecked my lips with a smile.

I can't do this. The man I fucked last month is upstairs.