by K. L Mann
I cough out a laugh at his suggestions, overcome by the ridiculousness of his anger. “Why do you even care? You’ve made it very clear that you want nothing to do with me. Am I supposed to be alone for the rest of my life? And how I dress is absolutely not your business.”
Gio laughs from deep in his chest. “You are my business. Everything you do, everywhere you go, every person you speak to and every eye that bats in your direction is my fucking business. Every thought in that stubborn little head of yours too. I know it all, and the sooner you accept the fact that I’m in charge, the better. Don’t like it? Pout about it, it won’t change it.”
“Fuck you,” I bite back at his ridiculousness. “You get to have sex with random people all of the time, and I can’t get a few stupid kisses? You can’t control who I fuck Gio.” The last sentence just slipped out and I don’t know how to take it back.
It’s going to escalate now, I know it.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
He pulls off the side of the road roughly, making the tires squeal then slams the car into park.
His angry face scares me, but I refuse to back down, I’ve gotten this far already. “What did you just say to me?”
I fake my confidence as best I can, puffing up my chest and narrowing my eyes. “I said, you can’t control who I fuck. I want to have sex too; I get horny just like you do. You don’t understand how ridiculous you’re being. I’m twenty fucking years old if I want to have sex, I will.”
“Wrong,” he grunts. “If I find out anyone has put their dick in you, they’ll be painfully killed shortly after and their body will never be found. You got me?” He’s gripping the steering wheel tightly and breathing heavily like a man ready to fight anyone who looks at him the wrong way.
Killed? Who the fuck does he think he is?
“No.”
Anxious nerves ripple up my spine and make my stomach flip. Faking bravery isn’t an easy task near a man like him. Especially considering my body isn’t reacting how I want it too. I’m not being stand-offish; I’m nearly panting with need. I want to kiss him, I’m furious and terrified by his dark eyes, but I want to kiss him so badly.
He scoffs. “No?”
I don’t answer him, I refuse. “Take me back to the house.”
“What do you mean, no?” He questions me again.
“I mean no! You’re not my dad. Stop acting like it!” I yell back and his face hardens, something comes over me. “Is that what you want? You want me to call you daddy? You want me to stay pure and untouched for you? But, daddy why won’t you fuck me if no one else can? My fingers don’t fill me up enough anymore daddy, I need something bigger,” I pout, teasing him ruthlessly. I’ve called him daddy in my head for years, but seeing his eyes flash with desire when I say it out loud tells me he’s thought about it before too.
“Enough, Arianna, stop talking.”
I know what I want to say, and I don’t think about it before I do. “Make me.”
One of Gio’s hands clasps around the back of my neck and pulls me into him. Our lips crush together with a delicious force that makes me squeal. His mouth is as dominating as his presence, consuming me easily.
This is our first real kiss, and it’s angry, but it’s oh so fucking honest. This is the most honest thing we’ve ever done. This is an admission that I’m not the only one who feels what we have.
Kiss me harder, please don’t stop.
His tongue commands my mouth and my tongue lets him. His lips are even better than I imagined all of those times. He tastes like the color red. I can’t describe it any other way. I feel my clit throb in my panties and drop one of my hands onto the top of his thigh, rubbing it slightly and whimpering into his kiss.
He breaks his lips away from mine and takes my hand off of him.
No, no, no. Please, don't stop.
“Goddamnit,” he grumbles and pulls back onto the road quickly before I can try to get the kiss back.
He won’t look at me.
My lips feel bruised and so lonely as I graze them lightly with my fingertips. Somehow Katherine’s lipstick isn’t all over either of our faces.
He rejected me again, after he initiated the kiss. I’m officially pissed off.
What the fuck is his problem? He kissed me like he hated me, but he had to pull himself off of me to stop.
We pull up to the house and I have an idea that I doubt I’ll be brave enough to execute. But I seriously consider it when he gets out of the car without another word. I pull myself out of the car and shut the door loudly behind me, he hasn’t made it inside of the house yet, and I follow close behind him.
We both head to the kitchen, I need water.
Luca looks up from his phone then back down at it, seemingly uninterested in my return. “I see you found the runaway.”
Gio stops at the island counter. “It wasn’t that hard,” he muses and Luca chuckles at his snide comment. Yeah, I get it, it was a dumb idea. Fuck off about it.
Luca is half dressed, leaning against one of the kitchen counters near the fridge. Grey sweatpants should seriously be illegal, especially on shirtless men. Anything that can make Luca Caruso seem even remotely sexy to the girl he calls a spoiled little brat and avoids at every turn is clearly black magic. Ignoring how they both catch my eye; I give them a glare and open both of the fridge doors. Pulling out a water bottle, I suck in a deep and purposeful breath. I’m steadying myself in the only way I know how because I’m going to do it.
Fuck Gio.
The fridge doors shut loudly, making Luca look back up as I walk into him, rushing to put my lips on his. I pretty much despise Luca most of the time but Gio can’t make good on his threat if I kiss him so unfortunately, he’s necessary. They’re best friends, and I’m using him to make a point.
I wrap a hand behind his neck and pull his mouth tighter into mine. Luca doesn’t push me away, but his hands shoot up like he’s being held at gunpoint. Still, I can definitely feel his lips move against mine, it’s subtle but I can feel it. I want to kiss him more to rub it into Gio’s face, but I don’t like using people; it’s mean. I pull my lips away from his, and whip around to see Gio still standing at the counter behind us.
He doesn’t look impressed.
“Are you going to kill your best friend now?” I raise an eyebrow at him, taunting him by tilting my head and licking my bottom lip. “Or is he the exception? Do I get to fuck Luca because you can’t hurt him? Should I take him back to my room now? So you can hear what you’re missing out on? Or maybe he could bend me over right here,” I point to the counter and grin.
Gio’s jaw tightens like he’s grinding his teeth, now he’s pissed.
“Don’t talk like that, Arianna.”
“Or what? Are you going to deny me some more? What can you even do to me? Nothing! So, fuck off or you’ll regret it,” I hiss, glaring daggers into him.
“Uh, what the fuck just happened?” Luca asks behind me.
He’s so close to me it sounds louder than it is. Gio doesn’t respond. I turn back to him and he’s looking at me strangely. I can’t decipher whether he’s pissed off, just flat out confused or secretly interested in the memory of my lips on his.
“I won. That’s what happened.”
I grip a hold on my water bottle tightly and walk out of the kitchen like I run the world. I don’t hear footsteps behind me so I make my way up the stairs with a smile on my face. When I make it back to my temporary room, I pull out my phone to text Katherine.
Arianna: I either just did something very smart or very stupid. Time will tell. Hope you’re having fun!
I also text Marco.
Arianna: Thanks for having my back. (Sarcastic)
I throw my phone onto the bed and head to the bathroom. I need to shower and go to bed. I have to watch a lecture at 9am tomorrow that I’m seriously dreading at this point.
I finished my shower, threw on a silk pajama set with shorts and a crop–top and drank most of my water.
; As I get into bed, my phone buzzes.
Marco: You know I couldn’t do anything even if I wanted to. Don’t make a scene in the Colombo club if you want to stay under the radar. I’m sorry it got cut short, we can go again sometime. I have your card by the way.
I sigh because I know he’s right. It’s not his fault and I get that he has boundaries because of business or whatever.
Arianna: Fine, you’re forgiven, only because you’re my favorite. I’ll get my card whenever.
Arianna: Tell Angelo I’m sorry I dragged him into it.
Marco: He deserved it, he knows who you are and he still kissed you.
Arianna: What the hell does that mean?
Marco: Idk. I’m drunk. Go to bed.
Arianna: Don’t die of alcohol poisoning. I’ll bring you back to life and skin you alive for leaving me alone with these assholes.
Marco: No promises.
I giggle and roll my eyes. He’s got a serious problem but he doesn’t care. Although, who am I to tell him it’s a problem. Maybe it’s not for him, maybe he handles it better than I think he does.
I check my socials quickly out of boredom. For someone with no friends I have a decent following on Instagram but I think when you have money and infamous family members it just kind of happens. Nothing interesting catches my eye as I scroll through so I give up for the night. Setting an alarm on my phone for 8am, and pulling every blanket Katherine has on top of me, I feel relieved to be tucked away. Her room is too cold, but it feels nice when I have the blankets on so I don’t mind much.
I’m exhausted from the stress of the night; it doesn’t take long for me to doze off.
Chapter 3: Crime & Punishment
“In the universe, there are things that are known,
and things that are unknown,
and in between them, there are doors.”
–William Blake
Arianna
I wince awake when my obnoxious alarm goes off. Alarm clocks are another thing that should be illegal. I’m going to make a mental list to write down later.
Things Arianna Vitale Thinks Should Be Banned:
Grey Sweatpants on shirtless men (too sexy, not fair to the female population)
Alarm clocks
Christmas music before Thanksgiving ends
¾ inch sleeve shirts
Warm apple juice
Parking fees
Vlogging mundane activities
Chewing loudly
Candy corn
Sherpa Blankets
Gold Silverware (it’s literally called SILVERware)
Humidity
Canned wine
Nylon pants
As much as my body begs me to stay asleep, I force myself to get up and get ready for class. Luckily, I don’t need to shower because I did before bed, so it won’t take me too long to get ready. I drink the rest of my water bottle before brushing my teeth and fixing up my hair. It’s straight but I put in some anti–frizz stuff throughout it, making it shinier.
I do my everyday makeup like yesterday and start scouting for an outfit. I pick out a short and loose floral skirt and a pale pink long–sleeved v–neck sweater. My style has always been more girly but it changes along with my moods. I throw on a pair of white All-stars and grab my laptop and charger from my bag.
There’s not really a desk in here, there’s a chair but not a good place to set up. I’ll have to go downstairs to use the foyer or the kitchen. My stomach flutters remembering I kissed the two men I’m stuck with for weeks last night.
My phone lights up and buzzes on the side table and I grab it eagerly.
Katherine: Having so much fun! Your brother is a romantic softy that pretends not to be, you know? I can’t go anywhere without finding Rose pedals. What trouble did you get into, crazy girl?
Arianna: I'm jealous, I want rose pedals. *Sad emoji* I really want to tell you, but I shouldn’t. Plausible deniability and all.
Katherine: Oh, it’s that good then? *Wide Eyed Emoji*
Arianna: Not sure yet, I’ll keep you posted.
Arianna: You’d be proud though.
Katherine hearts the message.
I trust her to keep secrets, I don’t trust Lorenzo not to snoop and see something he won’t like.
Taking a deep breath, I walk out of my room to find somewhere to set up for my lecture. It’s only two hours long but I need to be sitting at a desk so I can focus, otherwise I’ll play on my phone and ignore it.
No one is in the foyer or the kitchen, letting me breathe a sigh of relief. I set up at the island counter and plug my laptop into the outlet attached to the base of the surface. My lecture starts in five minutes and when I log on, I see the professor walking around the front of the stark white classroom. Seriously, for Milan, this University has some seriously boring classrooms in the history department. There are a few distance based students in the video chat room, but most of them have their cameras off. I keep mine off too because watching myself talk is gross.
Class starts and I open a blank document to take notes.
The Italian Renaissance isn’t fun when you delve this deep into it. I don’t even really like learning about history, it’s just easy for me. Writing papers has always come easily, and research is simple to adapt to. The class feels like it’s dragging by, technically I don’t even have to pay attention. He posts a PowerPoint of the lectures every week but I know I won’t read through it.
“Who can name the three artists we talked about last class?” Professor Louis asks.
This is one of the classes taught in English, there’s some study abroad students in it and I’m pretty sure the professor is French.
No one answers, participation isn’t big in the class.
“Alright, I’ll just pick someone then… Arianna Vitale.”
Of course.
I flick my mic on.
“Da Vinci, Michelangelo, and Raphael.”
Rolling my eyes and flicking it back off quickly, I ignore the thoughts of slamming my computer shut and crying violently. Answering questions on the spot, no matter how simple they are, gives me the creeps.
The Professor beams as if I’ve solved a math problem needed to save the world. “Very good,” he compliments too loudly.
Dude, two of the answers are also Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, calm down.
He asks a few more questions and makes other people answer. Most of them are correct, the questions aren’t supposed to be hard. He’s just seeing if we’re paying attention during class; another reason to listen.
“Alright, I suppose that wraps up the day. Class is dismissed. Remember there is no lesson next week, just work on your papers.”
A few people mumble goodbyes but I just log off and close my computer. It’s 11am and I’m starving. I wish Caterina was here, she would have something made already. I hate cooking.
When you grow up in a family like mine, repetitive tasks tend to make you upset. Cooking everyday isn’t realistic when you live like the Vitales do; in chaos. Or controlled chaos if you ask mamma.
Begrudgingly, I decide to make oatmeal and a smoothie. It’s easy enough so I can’t mess it up. There’re frozen berries in the freezer and yogurt in the fridge. I blend them together with some almond milk and pour the concoction into a tall glass.
It’s pretty good, sort of bitter but not terrible. After I throw what's left in the blender into the fridge, I microwave some oaks in almond milk with a few frozen berries sprinkled in. When it’s all finished, I reclaim my seat and start eating. It’s fine, but kind of boring.
I hear footsteps coming from behind me and use all of my strength not to turn around. They walk past me and I peek up. Luca’s not wearing a shirt, he looks like he’s just come from a workout. He walks straight to the fridge, his back muscles sparkling with sweat. Our kiss sweeps into my mind and I nearly choke on my smoothie.
Luca is annoying, and rude, he’s not hot. Stop thinking about his body, you hooker. Why couldn’t he have put a shi
rt on? How often does he work out? Goddamn.
Luca grabs the blender from the fridge and pours himself the rest of my smoothie into a cup. His abs catch my eye, and his arms are ridiculously swollen. His puffy veins run throughout his body like a map, and my eyes follow them.
My mind warps, spinning an imaginary scenario I shouldn’t allow.
He catches me watching him, gives me a cocky grin and then pounces. Stripping me like a caveman would, bending me over the counter and fucking me endlessly. Shoving his cock into me with abandon. He’s animalistic, biting into my neck and making me squeak.
He draws blood, yeah, he likes it fucking dangerous. He wants to make me scream in pain even more than he wants me yelling in pleasure. He wants to mark me with his bruises and claim me with his cum sunk deep inside of me.
He’s not looking at me, as I snap out of it, but I know he can see that I’m watching him. Even though I’m pretty sure I’m drooling at this point, I can’t pull my eyes off of him.
“Are you going to keep gawking at me, brat?” I can’t tell whether his tone is his normal snarky banter or disgust.
You can call me whatever you want if you fuck me like I just imagined, jerk.
I choke on my own air and cover my cough.
“You’re drinking my smoothie,” I lazily point out.
He purses his lips into an amused grin. “So?”
“So, I wasn’t watching you. I was watching you take my stuff. I don’t know if you remember this, but I don’t like when people touch my stuff. Don’t flatter yourself,” I hiss lightly then take the last bite of my oatmeal.
“Oh I remember all too vividly, princess. You melted a Barbie because Lorenzo touched it and you claimed he ‘poisoned’ it by doing so.” I smile at the memory, but he continues. “And really? Flatter myself? Is that what I’m doing?” he laughs.
“Yep, that’s exactly what you’re doing. Not everyone is staring at you because your body is… like that.” I wave my hand up and down, motioning to his shirtlessness.
“I thought you weren’t looking?” He smirks and takes a sip of my smoothie in his glass. My eyes follow his lips, then watch his Adam’s apple bob as he finishes his mouthful.
