The Italian Director Next Door (CASTELLANO SERIES #1)

1

This book is completely fiction where names, characters, history, places and events just based on imagination. Any content that is distributed without the author's consent is strictly prohibited. This book is all rights reserved to the author only. Thank you.

Manhattan, New York.

5:25 A.M. AT THE EARLY ASS CRACK OF DAWN.

"Namaste." I chanted with my eyes shut, clasping my hands together as I breathed in and out steadily, clearing my cluttered mind, ridding any thoughts of my work load and that part of me being single for the longest time. Rock music, why do I hear rock music? Where the hell was it coming from? No no, no cussing Lizzy, inner peace. I reminded myself.

"Namaste." I chanted twice.

I couldn't make out the exact lyrics since the singer mostly screamed through the entire verse and that fuelled my annoyance even further. And then there was a long pause. Good, the mental torture was over. That's where I..was wrong.

Another track began to play and my eyes were open wide as saucers as of right now. I crawled up from my mat in agitation and put my ear towards the wall, trying to make out who that screaming monkey was. It was Britney Spears. God damn it, it was 5 in the morning and people should still be sleeping!

The song 'Three' continued to blast itself on the speakers and I heard a male voice signing to it. "Ugh that insufferable..." my fingers mirrored the actions of strangling someone until I took a deep breath. "I can deal with this, its okay." I told myself and I walked back towards my yoga mat. "Namaste." I tried again. As I chanted even louder, so did the volume of the music increased.

I slammed my hands against my yoga mat with my eyes blazing, glaring daggers at the wall in front of me. "Namaste over my dead body, that sick son of a ..." I cussed.

I got up immediately from my mat. This inner peace thing clearly did not work for me, not this morning. This is madness!

I tripped over my dumb bells that I forgot about on the floor and fell face first onto the ground. I cursed even louder, words I've never read or seen in a dictionary were all tumbling out. I was fuming, raging to be exact. Ever since that person moved in, I've not had a single minute of peace over the weekend and I've waited all week long for this.

Getting up, I pulled a sweater that I found lying on my sofa and threw it over my head. I head towards the door of my loft and flung open my door in rage, narrowing my eyes at my neighbour. Before I moved in, the realtors had reassured me that these walls were absolutely sound proof. I did not pay a million dollars in cash to jam to my neighbour's horrible Spotify playlist, or at least I think it was Spotify but that's not the point.

I pounded both my fists against my neighbour's door, once, twice. The music was still playing and I was losing my marbles in my head. After a minute or two, the door opened up a crack and a hobo looked right at me. "Who is it?"

Ah, now I can hear Miss Spears all loud and clear.

"It's 5:30 in the freaking morning and you're having songs that scream bloody murder over your speakers? Of all days, Mr. what's-your-name, do you have to do it on a Monday morning?" I hissed, narrowing my eyes at him.

Oh boy, I think I've forgot my manners back at my place.

"Well good morning to you too, neighbour, why the sour face on such a beautiful woman?" he said as he pushed his door open wider.

"Sour?" I scoffed in disbelief. I was so mad to even realize what he was wearing or what he looked like. "Sour face? Did you not realize what time it is? This is against the law and I'll have you sued for.."