4. Self-Control
Chapter 4
Self-Control
Giordano
I gape in awe as the beautiful girl squeezing my hand for dear life as we head toward the exit of the café. Is she nervous?
To her, I may be a stranger, but I know her .
But only the superficial things.
Where she grew up. What schools she attended. What office she worked in.
What I don’t know about her is the fine little things. The important details. What movies she likes. Her favorite food. Her favorite gelato flavor. If she’s a morning bird or a night owl. How she looks when she orgasms.
All things soon to be found out. In due time.
Meeting her in the coffee shop was out of pure coincidence. I was originally going to go and have a little chat with one of her bosses at the other job. Instead, I found precautions not necessary—her being unfairly let go and all. On the bright side, one less stop I had to make. A small detail I didn’t see coming. Caught me completely off guard, but works out in my favor.
Fate.
The second she realizes she’s still holding onto me, her hand swiftly leaves my own. She gives me a crooked grin, and her eyes scream, please don’t look at me .
Oh, how looking at her is all I want to do—she’s beautiful.
Picturesque .
Short—barely comes up to mid-chest level. The goddess clears her throat and says, “Questo modo.” We take a right from the shop, as she had done yesterday.
“How far do you live from here?” I don’t need to ask, but I can’t give away the fact I already memorized every single detail about her.
“A few miles? I’m not sure. Close enough to walk, I suppose.” She shrugs.
“Let’s take my car.”
“Car.” She snorts a laugh. “It’ll take longer in this traffic. It’s a few blocks.”
“Fair point.” I laugh. “If you think we’re carrying every single thing you own to my place, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“No, no.” She giggles. “It’s not much, though. I’m sure we could pull a wagon,” she says under her breath. Surely, she has more than what can fit inside a small wagon.
Right ?
I raise an eyebrow, not believing her—yet don’t allow myself to say anything. She isn’t paying attention to where she is going. She needs to be cautious, more aware of her surroundings. Though, it’s only because her gorgeous eyes are staring directly at me.
I’ll let it slide this time.
Unfortunately, my clumsy Antonella walks right into someone. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” She tilts her head up and gasps.
I grip onto her waist and pull her closer to me. Not paying attention to the man she ran into. I focus strictly on her, making sure she’s okay—physically, emotionally. She’s fine—a little bump. An accident. My shoulders relax back, knowing she’s alright .
The man, however, won’t be.
I shoot a nasty glare, swirling with pure hatred at the man who’s careless for running into her. Did he not watch where he’s going? My blood boils through my veins as I lock eyes with the man who’s caused me nothing but Hell.
Cillian O’Duinn —the heir of the Irish Mob.
If someone searched on the internet for a picture of a bleached asshole—his photo would come up. Why is he here?
“None necessary. I wasn’t looking, beautiful.” He chuckles. “Happy to gaze upon your gorgeous face again , Miss Vitale. ” His quiet laugh fades as eyes dart back over to me. Stronzo. “ You , not so much.”
Again ? What does he mean again? He’s seen her before?
Cazzo .
“You two know each other?” She laughs, which doesn’t make this interaction any less awkward, of course. I need to gut the man. Shoot him in the head. Slit his throat.
Something .
“Something like that,” I growl through my clenched teeth. “I’m more concerned with how you know him .”
She attempts to wiggle out of my grasp, but instead, I pull her closer to me. And I don’t think she likes it because the expression on her face is pure chaos. Rage. One I don’t wish to be on this end of again.
“Let me go ,” she whispers.
“ No ,” I whisper back to her.
“I’ll leave you two. Mr. Marzano.” He takes my woman’s hand in his and kisses the back of it.
Does she work for him? Is she in the Irish Mob and I had no clue? There’s only one thing on my mind.
He’s touching her.
My left eye twitches.
“Remove your hand before I shoot you.” I mutter under my breath indistinctly.
And if he wasn’t already on my hit list, he would be now. Any man who touches her, looks at her, so much as breathes near her direction— whacked .
Giacomo, my designated hitman, is about to become an extraordinarily busy man.
Cillian says, “I never did get your number, beautiful.”
Number? Over my dead body.
She giggles. “Oh… and I never got your real name, Mr. Sullivan .”
Real name? What the fuck does she mean real name? Who is Mr. Sullivan, and why is she calling him that?
“It’s—”
“None of your concern. Step away. Now ,” my voice turns lethal, almost a growl. I can hardly recognize myself.
She opens her mouth, more than likely to say something snarky, but snaps it shut when I glare at her.
“I see.” He chuckles, takes his hand off Antonella, and pivots on his heels to leave in the opposite direction. “Have a good day.”
His name tastes like metal knives on my tongue—I can’t bring myself to verbalize it. Instead, I say, “Have the day you deserve.”
I stare at him until he’s no longer in my line of sight. Arrivederci, stronzo.
Antonella clears her throat. I shift my attention back down to her. Her arms are across her breasts, arched brows knit tightly together, and a single foot taps away.
Scorn .
Death—take me now.
She breaks our silence first. “Care to explain to me why you were rude to him?”
“No. Allora, andiamo.” I take a few steps, continuing in our original direction, yet she doesn’t follow. I stop and turn to her. She remains unmoved, with this cute glower on her face.
I can’t take her seriously. She’s like an adorable little puppy. Of course, I can’t tell her the truth about why we have animosity.
“Giordano.” She huffs, taking a few steps toward me.
“Andiamo, amore. Let’s get you out of your apartment and into my place. And?—”
“Let me make one… thing… clear.” She pokes my chest.
Saucy. I raise a brow, curious. What does this little firecracker have to say?
“Just because I am moving in with you, and the fact you’re incredibly handsome and rich or whatever…”
“You think I’m handsome?” I wink.
She scowls. “Besides the point. It doesn’t mean you have any say on who I date.”
Is she planning on dating him? There’s no way I’m about to let it happen. He’s bad fucking news.
She narrows those doe-like eyes. Her voice a whisper, “ Capisce ?”
“Loud and clear, amore.” I smirk. “Care to explain how you know him ?”
“No. Allora, andiamo.” She throws my earlier statement back in my face, sticks her nose up in the air, and flings her wavy, waist-long hair over her shoulder.
Well played.
“Home, sweet home.” She grimaces as we walk up the few steps to the bottom floor apartment.
There are four apartments here. Two on top, two on bottom with an open staircase in the middle. A few of the steps and the hand-rail going up the first flight of stairs appear broken. Four grey trash cans and a few trash bags are lined up outside of the building.
Cazzo .
She fumbles the wad of keys around in her hand. A single key with a full key chain of… miscellaneous clinking things .
I raise a brow. “What is… all that?”
“Things to make my single key look adorable. And it holds the pepper spray.”
That’s my girl.
“Pepper spray is good to have.” I chuckle.
She finally gets the door open, but only by a crack.
“Amore? Do you need help?”
“No.” She pushes on it with her entire upper body a few times, then it fully opens all the way.
My lips fall into a flat line, disappointed in her living situation. Elated it’s about to change for the better.
“See? I got it. It jams… every single time.” She gestures for me to follow her inside. “It’s a good thing I’ve never been chased by a bad guy or something. I’d be so fucked.” She clicks the light switch and one lone lamp in the corner of the room comes on, flickering a few times. “Or who knows? Maybe I could be letting a killer into my home right now willingly.”
“Is that some sort of joke?” My eyes widen in horror.
“Probably a bad one—yes.”
“Right then,” I say. I keep the illusion on my face as if I’m not judging her—and I’m not. I’m judging the apartment. This place is a dump. Not cluttered, falling apart . Paint peeling off the walls, a singular cabinet falling off the hinges. She’s trying her best.
“Feel free to make yourself comfortable. Ah—the couch is a comfortable spot.” She grimaces, holding her head in her hands as she walks into one of the two rooms.
“Yeah, I’ll do that.” I raise a brow at the black slip-covered couch, choosing not to sit on it. “Allora—this is where my amore lives, huh?” I whisper. She makes the apartment look a lot more than it’s worth.
“Antonella?” I call out to her, noticing she’s taking a bit long. “Grab what you can for tonight. We’ll come back tomorrow with a truck and start moving.”
Now, I’m able to calculate the size of the moving van, and hire the professional movers we need.
“Stay with you tonight?” She pops her head out of the doorway and raises a brow. “I was under the impression I’m staying here until I moved out.”
“Oh, you don’t?—”
“It’s fine. I’d rather not be here to deal with the landlord much longer anyway. I’ll hand him the lease tomorrow saying I’m ending my month-to-month here and we’ll be on our way.”
I ask, “Do you have the paperwork with you?”
“Yeah, on the fridge.” She walks back into the room going to finish… whatever she happened to be doing before.
I pivot on the heels of my shoes, only because the fridge is at arm’s length. Tiny kitchen. Convenient for reaching; inconvenient for everything else. This is probably where she made that delicious sauce.
I grip the corner of the paper packet while plucking a single strawberry magnet off the fridge, and hold it in between my fingers, examining it.
Cute .
I place the magnet in my suit coat pocket for safe keeping. I want to put it on our fridge for her, because it won’t break this way. I scan the paper for anything standing out as illegal—unfortunately not. Basic leasing information. But, I’ll still have my lawyer, Jimmy, go over it.
I take a few pictures of it with my phone and send it off in an encrypted email. The guy is a dick to her. Good thing I’m planning on being there when she hands him those papers all filled out saying she’s getting far away from him.