The Ricci Rules

CHAPTER FOUR - Sienna De Luca

Men.

Extremely predictable creatures.

Since meeting Ricci, I encountered several blacked out SUVs waiting in corners, following me to the most mundane parts of my day. His bald headed cousin tried and failed to keep up.

I took an unnecessary trip to the pharmacy, staring at menstrual pads just to fuck with him. I went to the grocery store and took my time picking out the perfect apple. I was pretty sure I heard a heavy sigh when I sat in Central park just staring at a tree.

I had to give it to him, he was quick on his feet and patient. I hadn't been able to get a good look at his face with his hood on so low, touching his brows, shrouding his eyes from me. But I could feel him tracing my steps.

I found it more amusing than annoying, which was convenient for him I guess.

I turned towards my driveway, dancing willows, bright green, shading my eyes from the sun. I tapped out a rhythm on the steering wheel as I eyed the black range rover idling a few feet behind me.

Sighing to myself, I rolled down the window and stuck my hand out, flipping him off. I fucking see you, ass hat.

Just as I stepped on the gas, my eyes darted to the side mirror, brows knitted. His car came alive, following me close at a leisurely speed. He revved his engine, the exhaust was loud and mean but I wasn't fucking scared. He clearly wasn't trying to hide anymore.

He pulled up next to my Mustang and I pulled out my gun. Flinging my car door open, I knocked on the tinted windows hard.

"You have a lot of nerve–"

The window rolled down. The smooth sound of it gliding cut my words mid sentence.

Dio. Hell must've froze over and led a staircase straight to my goddamn door.

Sharp cheekbones and a lightly stubbled jaw clenched and unclenched. Roma Ricci cocked his head to the side, his green eyes were lighter today and narrowed with mild annoyance.

"That's not very nice." He drawled, leaning his arm against the door. His long fingers clutched onto my gun before I could tug it away, he flicked the safety off and held it high, still pointing it towards him. "If you're going to be armed, at least be prepared. I could have been anyone."

My eyes darted to the empty passenger seat. He was alone. My spine tingled with awareness as I felt the rough pads of his fingers graze my hand. Of course, the moment I assume it's his stalker cousin, it's the devil himself. He was dressed formally, a plain black suit, you could tell it was expensive, the quality looked heavy and soft to touch.

I rolled my eyes and held back a yawn. He was so utterly boring. "You're right. It's impossible for me to take down a grown man with just my hands." I quirked my brow and tapped the end of my gun to the small cut on his nose.

He gripped my wrist and smirked. "Show me how you use those hands again."

If my glare was a laser, his face would be fried.

I pointed the glock towards the tyre and pressed the trigger.

"Jesus, have you lost your fucking mind?" He gritted.

His eyes widened as the sound of air leaking hit his ears. The smell of gunpowder was strong and it was comical watching his car deflate.

"My hands are capable of plenty. Want me to do it again?" I asked innocently, stepping away from the car.

His face sharpened with dislike, eyes the color of envy thinned into slits. His jaw ticked as his gaze of hate settled onto my lips. "Salvatore didn't mention your trigger finger or smart mouth either."