6. Not One, But Two Mysterious Guys
Chapter 6
Not One, But Two Mysterious Guys
Antonella
I glare at the keys sitting on the dresser. I’m not doing it. I’m not taking the car. I’m not driving.
I pull out my phone and send the message. I’ll walk from here—I don’t care what he says. Hell, I’ll call a cab.
I’m not driving.
I can’t do it. I’ll call a taxi or whatever.
Giordano
I’ll drive you.
You’re not getting into a car with a stranger.
Oh, so now all of a sudden he cares about strangers who aren’t him, huh? This is his entire personality, isn’t it? I told him already he doesn’t get to dictate my life?—
A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. He opens it before I even touch the handle.
“You ready to go?” His smile is show-stopping. Drop dead gorgeous. What does he use to whiten his teeth?
I run my fingers through my hair one final time and then nod, grabbing my purse off of the counter. I give the keys back to him. I’m not going to be able to drive the car, anyway.
His hardened stare remains the same as he takes the keys, placing them into his jacket pocket. It’s honestly fucking illegal how good he looks in his black, tailored suit. The white button up shirt underneath leaves more than enough to my imagination?—
Statazit, Antonella.
Stop picturing him naked.
A knowing smirk curls up on his lips. “Are you done gawking?” He grips my chin between his fingers, closing my mouth for me as he trails his thumb across my plumped out bottom lip. “Little bit of drool there.”
My eyes spring wide open as my hand flies up, covering my mouth. There’s absolutely no way.
There’s nothing. No drool.
“ Kidding .” He taps my nose while laughing. I blink—unamused. “Andiamo.” He takes my arm in his.
Stronzo.
After a quiet, ten minute car ride—he drops me off in front of the coffee shop. He unlocks the door, remaining silent with his gaze locked on the street in front of us.
“Thanks for the ride.” I attempt to smile, shutting the door. I mean, what am I expecting? A hug and a kiss? I laugh to myself, walking into the café.
“Morning, Michelle.” I smile. Soft approach.
She glares at me across the counter, flipping her bleach blonde pony-tail over her shoulder. “Antonella, hurry up. I have a meeting in five minutes.”
She isn’t the nicest boss—but for once she’s working outside the office. Maybe this is why this place has such a high turn-over rate.
I hang up my purse in the back office and put on my black apron, tying it once around my waist. It accentuates my hourglass figure enchantingly. “Alright.” I plaster on the biggest smile I can.
She blinks her beady dark brown eyes a few times, saying nothing as she stomps off to the backroom, huffing. The door slams shut immediately behind her.
I turn my attention down to the screen as a man approaches. “Good morning. What can I get started for you?”
I tap the screen a few times. Nothing’s working. Stupid thing giving me issues today with not loading properly. I vigorously tap the screen and wait for it to reconnect to our system—internally I groan, wanting to slam the monitor over and over again until it’s in little bits and pieces?—
“Ciao, amore,” he whispers, leaning slightly over the counter.
What happened to giving me the personal space and going to work? Where he told me he’s going.
This is not his job.
This is my job.
I sigh, defeated. “Let me guess…” I tap my chin. “ Cappuccino ?”
“Please.”
“Since you asked so nicely.”
I do love a man who begs.
I click a button on the screen and it functions how it’s supposed to—thankfully it’s working properly now. “What are you doing here?”
Is he stalking me? Coming to my place of work while I’m working, again?
“What does it look like I’m doing, amore? I’m ordering a coffee from my favorite café and favorite girl.” He chuckles, crossing his forearms over his chest.
Oddio. Favorite girl?
A heated blush spreads across my face and down my neck as I make his drink for him. I’m the only one here today—aside from Michelle . It’s a slow day, meaning one person is needed to mind the counter. She’s lucky I’m in a good mood and no longer stuck in survival mode.
“You made my drink the best I’ve ever had the last time. It’s bitter when other people make it. Figured I’d test out if it’s a fluke, or if you truly make a mean cup of cap.”
“Cup of cap .” I scoff, placing my hand on my right hip. Who says that? “Allora, so you’re here for an… experiment?”
“Così così.” He smirks— not giving me a definite answer. His damn smile. I click my tongue as I hand him the to-go cup. “Grazie, amore.”
He takes a languorous sip. I swallow in anticipation, my heart racing. Why do I care about what he thinks about a cup of coffee, anyway?
“ Perfetta. ” He smirks. “Now that’s a good cup of cap.”
“Stop saying that,” I whisper. “Glad you love it. Have a lovely day at work.”
“Dinner’s at five.” He winks.
“Okay… I’m off at two.”
“See you then, amore. I’ll escort you home.”
Home .
He scratches his clean-shaven chin, thinking for a moment. Is it hard for him to do? To think? “Do you have those leasing papers on you?”
I nod slowly. “I have them in my purse so I won't lose them. Probably not the smartest idea—it would’ve been easy for me to drop them off after my shift and be done with it today.”
“I’ll take you.”
“Take me,” I blurt out. Quickly my hands fly up to cover my mouth. Why did I say it like that?
His eyes glint with lust as his top lip curls up.
Oddio. Did I seriously say that? My eyes widen as the heat spreads across my cheeks. “It’s not what I?—”
“Don’t explain yourself. Again, let me live in the moment, amore,” his voice lowers to a deep and husky tone, “Ciao, bella.”
“Ah… Bye.” I wave awkwardly as he stalks out of the building. I slap my forehead; nausea bubbling in my stomach as if I’m ab out to throw up from embarrassment. Why, on the entire planet Earth, did I say that ?
I sit down at the table, taking a well deserved break. About ten minutes of absolutely no customers go by before the bell on top of the door chimes.
“Good morning, beautiful,” another familiar voice says.
I take a sip of coffee, crinkling my eyes and nose. “Well hello, stranger .” Emphasis on stranger. Who is this guy and why do I keep running into him?
“Dropping the whole Mr. Sullivan thing, huh?” He laughs.
“Considering that isn’t your name anyway, yes.” My left eye twitches.
“Since when do you work here?”
“Since I got fired from my other job. Right after I left your office—by the way.” I squint—unsure if I should answer him or not. I do anyway. Why does he want to know? What is it with these two men?
“Oh, I’m sorry.” His cold, emotionless eyes soften slightly on the outside.
“Wasn’t your fault at all. It’s cutbacks.” I wave with a dramatic sigh. “No worries. I’ll be fine.” Giordano is taking care of me. But, of course, I don’t say that.
“This type of job pays for an apartment in downtown Chicago?” He raises a brow and laughs.
I snort as I shake my head. “ No . Not at all.”
In the back of my mind, my gut’s telling me not to give him any more details about where I live. Why would I? He’s a stranger.
Though… I do the same thing with Giordano. But the feeling is entirely different. With him, it’s sincere—caring. He wants to help me in my time of need. This fucking guy, there isn’t a single good vibe inside my bones. He’s hot, but it’s not the same.
He hums. “Where do you live, beautiful?” his voice is smooth like butter. The slight Irish accent has a certain charm to it.
“I don’t think I should be telling strangers where I live, no?” I gulp as a bead of sweat prick at the back of my neck. He’s making me nervous. My heartbeat quickens in my chest as a wave of uneasiness washes over me.
“Of course.” His dry, and obviously fake, laughter sends chills down my spine. “A smart choice.” There’s a moment of silence between us, as I try not to meet his direct eye contact. “Are you nervous?”
I belt out a laughter so loud, it echoes off of the walls. Thank God we are in public.
“You are, aren’t you?” He cocks a brow and smirks—cheeky and arrogant. He’s used to getting what he wants, when he wants it, isn’t he?
Yes .
“No,” I confidently say. I roll my shoulders back, taking a lengthy sip of my coffee, and then set it down on the table. “Is there a point to this conversation?”
“Absolutely.” He slides me a business card with a nine-digit phone number and no name. Cryptic. ‘Cause this isn’t weird.
“Is there a real name to go with this number?” I pick the card up off the table, holding it between my thumb and index finger. “Because I’m not going to continue to call you something you’re not.”
“For now, no.” He winks. “You can call it when you want, and I’ll come.”
My nose scrunches up. What does that even mean? Why so cryptic? “All this effort, and I don’t get your name?”
He shakes his head as he rises to his full height next to the table. “Not yet. We’ll meet again. ”
“Sure,” I whisper. This time, I don’t doubt it. Who says this sort of thing?
Having to go back to work behind the counter, I shift my attention back to other tasks. He finally leaves without another word—or even a goodbye. I put his number directly into my phone under Nameless Man. I’ll keep the number… in case. He’s still a mystery. The man who pops up out of nowhere, randomly.
I chuck the card into the trash, burying it underneath a lot of other things, even going as far as to pour milk on it, too.
“ Eugh, ” I whisper.