MALICIOUS ARRANGEMENTS

Chapter 13

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Ilaria's pov

It was five in the morning and raining outside.

The weather matched my mood, I felt grumpy. I was always bad-tempered and moody in the morning, wanting everyone to leave me alone. Why? Because I wasn't a morning person.

Alanzo being Alanzo, probably knowing I hated waking up early and wanting to torture me mentally, decided to schedule our flight in the damn morning.

And let me tell you something, it was exhausting to pack and unpack five suitcases without the help of a damn maid. He probably didn't hire a maid to see me struggle, enjoying to see me in despair.

At least, he wasn't heartless enough to make me carry my suitcases down, and had sent men upstairs to pick them up and carry them down for me.

Still, I didn't believe in his good-will. Please, we talked about Alanzo, Antonio's son, the devil in Armani suit, who was standing at the end of the stairs, as I descended them down.

"You're ready to go?" he asked me as I was standing right in front of him now. "Yeah, but why are you wearing a suit?" I asked him with a frown.

This time, I was wearing sportswear as in a brown Nike hoodie and thigh length leggings in black as I didn't want to go through the same agony like last time we flew, and he was wearing a suit.

"Because we've to a drive to a meeting right after we'll land, I thought you went for style before comfort?" he asked me, looking at my clothes.

"Well, last time you suggested me comfortable clothes for our flight, and this time," I groaned, showing an one with my finger, "I decided to listen to your suggestion, and I'm already regretting it! Now, I am going to sit in the meeting in gym clothes! Great, another embarrassing moment is awaiting me! Because of you!"

I walked past him with a huff, heading out of the mansion, before going where the chauffeur was waiting for us next to a van.

"Stop being so dramatic, Ilaria, you can change in the jet," Alanzo said right behind me, following me. "You should wear comfy clothes anyway with that big bruise on your stomach."

"And you can stop acting as if you care for me, we both know you'd throw a party and celebrate my death if I died!" I rolled my eyes with my arms crossed as the driver opened the door for us. Then, I frowned as I saw three cups of coffee in the backseat.

"An Espresso, tasting poisonous, strong, intense and dark like me and a White Chocolate Mocha, as sweet as you." I felt him standing right behind me.

Licking my lips, I turned a little around to look at him. Looking up at him, I saw him looking down at me with hooded eyes. "You remember how I like my coffees?" I asked him, biting my lower lip. He was giving me mixed signals lately, making me feel odd.

"Si, but there is one thing I am curious about," he hummed, his hand moving to my face and freeing my lower lip from between my teeth, before brushing his thumb over it, "how do you know how I taste? And what makes you so sure that you taste sweet?"

The way he looked at me so intently made me gulp. His voice so husky, while asking those questions. I didn't know what exactly he was playing, but I knew he was playing dirty. And god damn my horny hormones, it worked!

Coughing, I looked at him flushed, before looking away, avoiding his eyes while changing this conversation that got me all heated, asking, "Where is Marco?"

I gasped surprised as his hand, that had gently brushed over my lip seconds ago, grabbed my face roughly now, almost bruising, making me look back at him. As I looked into his gray eyes, I frowned, he looked annoyed.