12 | sonder

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Sonder [ son-der ]
n. The realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as your own

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With that, we entered his office. My eyes settling on the familiar setting as he walked over to sit directly on his desk before beckoning me to have a seat on the chair in front of it. I walked over to the chair, before sitting down, allowing the cushion to form itself around my bottom.

"My son is quite careless when it comes to this sort of thing, so it becomes my job," he explains. An eyebrow of mine rises before I have a chance to stop it.

"Speaking of your son, why is it that he calls you Angelo? I also notice the tension, did something happen?" I pry, leaning back in his chair as he looks around the room with a smirk on his face.

"There goes the nosy girl I found in my office that day," he says. I gaze into his eyes, my eyes freezing on the scar he had on his face. For the first time, I noticed a tattoo on his neck that seemed trail. His sleeked back hair was slightly messier also. Vincenzo did take some similarities from his father such as his lips, along with the danger that just seemed to crawl out of his cold hard eyes.

"I wasn't always there for him. My time was spent drinking and wallowing for his puttana of a mother. Everything you see here, this mansion, his power-it all came from him. I built nothing. I was just lucky enough for him to bring me along the ride, and now-," he stopped himself before closing his eyes and shaking his head. [ whore ]

"And now. . . What?" I asked, growing incredibly curious.

"That's for another day. Now, for the true reason of why I brought you here," he spoke, getting up from his desk and placing my hand in his as he helped me up from the chair.

When I was standing up on my two feet, I noticed how his hand slowly let go before he turned me around so my back faced him. He was close-too close. The minty smell of his breath and rich cologne fanned my nose.

"Omertà, Orabella," he said. I turned my head to try and face him, but his hand moved to my neck where he moved my head back to face the front.

I looked at whatever he kept trying to turn my attention to. "The code of silence," he spoke in a whisper. I looked down at my arm as I saw his hand slide down it in a light touch.

"You're talking to me about hearing, so why is that you keep touching me?" I ask, turning around to face him. I was most definitely correct, he was very close. I had to crane my neck up just to gaze at his face since my eyes became leveled with his lower chest.

"My apologies. Vincenzo never keeps a girl as long as he's kept you. Usually, they all tend to fall on me," he said, his eyes flickering to my lips. I took a few steps back, accidentally falling into his chair leaving me to be eye-level with his crotch.

Quickly, I far scooted away from him with the chair entirely. He chuckled darkly before turning and walking around his desk to finally sit in his chair.

With him away, it felt like I could finally breathe again. His scent finally running away from my nose, leaving the intimidation to finally be at ease.

"Aren't you with my mother?" I ask him. Noticing as his smirk grew and a darkness filled his eyes.

"Time will tell, Orabella. Time will tell," he said.

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