( this book is currently being HEAVILY edited. I suggest not reading unless you are okay with slight errors.)
In which a 40 year old Italian man falls into the trap of an 22 year old seductress, who babysits his children.
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Our eyes stayed on eac...
"They say I did something bad, why's it feel so good?."
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I stared up at Alex in shock. I had to shut my eyes and open them once more just to establish that I wasn't dreaming and he actually was standing right in front of me. An angry scowl was plastered onto his handsome face and I immediately felt confusion settle into me. Goosebumps rose on the skin of my arms and I would've assumed they were from the chilly night air—but sober me knew that wasn't the case.
Why was he here? How was he here?
And then it clicked. The conversation I had with Celine, this was Alexander's club.
My eyes averted to the stranger who was now staggering as he got up to face Alex. "What the fuck man? I was totally about to get laid." He threw a weak punch towards my savior who caught his fist inches away from his face.
With fury glazing in his eyes, he twisted the foreign man's arm, the sound of bones slightly racking filled the still air. "Shit man, I didn't know the whore was yours, fuck, that hurts let me go." I couldn't focus on the pounding of my head, or the cold wall against my back. My mind was instead focused on the anger that coursed through me and I crossed my arms over my chest.
I scoffed at the crude comment. I was the whore? I wasn't the one who forced himself on people because no one willingly wanted him. I was about to throw out a sassy remark when Alexander lifted his fist and roughly connected it with the man's jaw. His suit remained flawless and in place as the boy went flying backwards and I widened my eyes in shock.
"Non e una puttana, l'unico difetto che sento e il suogusto negli uomini. Testa di cazzo." His voice was cruel and menacing and sent chills down my spine.
My mind was still a bit hazy from the alcohol but I made out his words and blushed, of course he didn't know I could speak in Italian, which was obviously why he used his native tongue.
With one last angry glare, Alexander grunted and walked towards me, placing his hands in front of my face. I grabbed it and he pulled me up with minimal force, but I managed to stumble and fall over onto his chest. I giggled at the hardness of it.
He tensed as I hugged him. "You're so warm." I sighed deeply and tightened my hold around his broad shoulders.
My sober self would've never said something even remotely close to that and although I knew I'd regret it in the morning—I would blame my behavior on the alcohol induced state I was in.
"What were you doing here?" he asked rather aggressively.
I snorted and let go of him. "What are you? My dad?" I asked, looking up at him through my eyelashes. I didn't miss the way his breath became heavier, but my brain could have been playing tricks on me.
