23. First Day Jitters
Chapter 23
First Day Jitters
Antonella
I wince at the pounding in my head. I definitely didn’t drink enough water before all the alcohol I had.
“Immediately no,” I groan. Languidly, I crack my eyes open. Realization of last night’s frivolous spending over a bratty tantrum dawns on me, slapping me in the face. “Oh… I fucked up.”
I pull myself out of the bed to do the responsible thing, even though I seriously don’t want to. I have to at least apologize.
I trudge down to the other end of the house and knock on his door. The urge to vomit bubbles in my throat.
No answer.
“Giordano?” I gingerly open the door, expecting him to be in bed. The bed’s still made. I stand straight up, pursing my lips.
He didn’t come home last night? If he did, he wasn’t loud. Then again, I was knocked out—a burglar could’ve busted in and I would’ve still been out.
New kink?
Perchance.
Mind out of the gutter, Tone. I turn, closing the door behind me. As tempting as it is to rummage through his personal belongings, I resist the overwhelming urge. Instead, I pull up his contact on my phone and hover my thumb over the call button. Should I bug him at work?
If that’s where he is.
I’ve never called him before. Never needed to. “Pull up your big girl panties, Toni. Call the damn man.” I gulp and hit the call button, finally.
Here goes nothing.
He answers halfway through the first ring with a groggy whisper, “Antonella?”
“Um,” my voice cracks, bottom lip wobbling. The immense guilt overwhelms me as the tears prick my eyes. This is horrible. I never wanted to use him like this, and here I am—having to admit to what happened.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, louder, sterner.
“I’m so sorry. Can you come home? It’s an emergency.” A strangled cry breaks through my lips.
This is something I need to tell him in person. I can’t manage to get the words out of my mouth to tell him over the phone. Maybe it’ll be easier if he’s here. Probably not. It’s not like I spent a few hundred dollars. Ten grand on a bottle of liquor is insane. What was I thinking?
“Already on my way.”
I end the call. Anxiety already creeps in all over my body. My hands tremble. My heart palpitates at an incredible speed.
Is this death?
I try to take my own advice I gave Audie, a deep breath through my nose and hold it in. I squeeze my eyes shut until I no longer can hold it—because I become too dizzy—and then exhale through my mouth. Did it make me calm down?
No.
I need a distraction. I brush my teeth and change into some different clothes, then sit on my bed. I should shower, but there’s not much time. Knowing him, he’ll drive a mile a minute to get to me .
Ten minutes later, he busts through my door with an extremely worried expression on his face. His tie undone around his neck, as well as a few buttons. He isn’t wearing the same shirt he had on yesterday when he left. Maybe he did come home last night after all. His hair’s disheveled, plus a few drops of blood stain his knuckles.
What did I interrupt? Do I even want to know?
“I’m sorry.” I sniffle.
“For, amore?” His eyes glaze over, filled with worry. Mostly bloodshot and exhausted, like he didn’t sleep much at all.
“I—”
“Are you hurt ?” He immediately hovers over me as I sit on the edge of the bed, staring up at him through blurry, tear-filled eyes. His voice is unsteady, filled with concern—not anger—like I expected.
I shake my head . My chest heaves up and down as I try to silently breathe.
“Are you ill ?” He examines my body and places his hand on my forehead, checking for a fever.
I smack his hand away and shake my head once again.
“Are you in any danger?” His gaze darkens. “Did someone threaten you?”
“No?” I bounce my leg up and down. My heartbeat thumps in my ears. These are all interesting questions he’s asking me. Why would someone threaten me? Hesitatingly, I whisper, “I did something awful .”
Guilt riddles my heart. I’m having palpitations.
“Did you kill someone, amore?” He raises a brow.
“What the fuck? No !” I shake my head, as I run my fingers through my tangled hair.
“Then what is awful, sweet girl? Now, tell me.” He sits next to me on the bed and pulls me into his chest. There’s the slight hint of his delicious sandalwood scent, though its mixed with a tinge of blood and sweat. My nose scrunches up. He definitely didn’t come home last night.
He takes my hand in his, waiting for my confession. Here it goes.
“I used your money last night when we were at the liquor store with Audie and bought expensive alcohol… and a charcuterie board. I spent a lot. I was mad at you for leaving and going back to work instead of staying with me.”
There .
I said it.
I grimace, preparing for the worst. A weird, tingling sensation overcomes my entire body. Why isn’t he talking? He should be saying something. Yelling. Anything. Hell, I’ll even welcome a sneeze .
Silence is deafening.
My stomach is in knots, I’m going to throw up on him if he doesn’t say something in the next minute. Slowly, I open my eyes, curious at what his reaction is.
His eyes gleam with passion as the corners of his mouth turn up. I don’t think he entirely understands what I’m upset about. Instead, he leans in and kisses me on the forehead while lazily drawing circles on the back of my hand with his thumb.
I pull away from him. My facial expression morphing into more confused and distraught at his change of reaction.
He snorts a quiet laugh.
“What’s funny about this?” An even larger pit forms in my stomach. Is he going to kick me out now? I won’t blame him if he does.
I deserve it.
He calmly says, “You finally used the card I gave you. I want you to use it all the time instead of being overly stubborn and using your own money. I gave it to you for a reason, amore.” His hand grazes my cheek as his pupils dilate .
I gulp. “But for ten thousand dollars on a single bottle of liquor?”
“You’re acting as if that’s not pocket change to me, sweetheart.” He laughs, which I think is meant to ease my anxiety. It doesn’t. “You actually spent almost thirteen grand, but that’s okay. You could do more. The rookie number.”
“Rookie number,” I whisper, repeating what he said.
“Now, let’s go out to dinner, tonight after work, to celebrate your first day. Wait for me here. I’m going to take a quick shower.” He kisses my forehead, again. “Are you alright?”
He isn’t mad. In fact, he’s ecstatic. Giddy, even.
I’m not sure how to answer his question. There’s too many emotions all at once. Confusion being the main one.
“I’m fine.”
“Good. I’ll be right back.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “And get ready for work, I’m driving you. And I’m not taking no for an answer.”
Another tingling sensation zings throughout my body, different from the one before. This one goes straight from my heart to my clit. He causes this sort of reaction in my body.
Fuck.
Me.
“This is the part where you say—” He clears his throat. Ugh, here we go, again. “Yes, Giordano—the love of my life even though I won’t admit it out loud to anyone, even myself—of course I’ll listen and go out to dinner with you,” he says in a girly voice as he’s walking out of the room. And in his regular voice he says, “Oh, grazie, amore. Such a good girl you are.”
“Vai, vai. Yes, of course. Get out of here.” I get off the bed and shut the door. Goodness, this entire commotion has me forgetting about work, already. I’m going to be late for my first day.
We walk up to the large, silver skyscraper. Estate Times . I work here.
It’s a fever dream.
“Have a lovely first day, amore.” He holds my hand tightly in his as we step up the first few steps of the office building together.
He insists on walking me to the front door. Like I’m a child on the first day of school. I can drive myself, however, in typical Giordano-esque fashion, he wants to bring me. How long will this last for? The possessiveness. The territorial feeling. Will he get bored with me when he realizes how normal I am? Boring? I don’t do anything besides work and sleep, really.
“You have a wonderful day, too.” I beam, even though on the inside, I’m going to throw up. First day jitters.“Doing whatever it is you do,” I mumble as I turn to leave, but he pulls me back in with his hand. I peer down at our hands together and then back up at him.
His smirk is mischievous. He knows what he’s doing as his index finger drags along the underside of my chin. He whispers, “You didn’t think you’d get to leave without giving me a kiss goodbye. Did you, amore?”
“Giordano—” I’m cut off by his lips slamming into mine. My eyes flutter shut at the warmth of his touch. His tongue softly rolls over my bottom lip, begging for entrance yet I deny him.
Not in front of my place of employment.
I snicker as I place my hands on his pecks, pushing him away from me.“I’ll see you tonight.”
He slaps my ass, hard.
I jump, not expecting it. My ass recoils up and down—three times—from how hard he spanked me. I whisper angrily, “You cannot do that here! ”
“I can, and will, amore.” A smug smirk emerges on his face. I roll my eyes while I turn. Once again, he grabs my arm. His other hand comes down and swiftly slaps my ass.
I gasp. “Disrespectful.”
“What did I say about the eye rolling? That’s disrespectful, amore.”
He’s caught me on a technicality. “Sorry.” I fake a pout. “I’m going to be late if you do not let me go.”
“If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be working at all, amore.” He kisses my nose, letting go of me, finally. “But, fine.”
“See you later.” I grip onto the door of the building, holding on for dear life, because if I didn’t, I’m sure he’d pull me away.
I peer over my shoulder. I regret it the moment I do. He has the cutest little pout on his lips. I mean, do I even want to work anymore? Look at his handsome face. I don’t want to leave.
Yet, a tug in my heart pulls me into the building. Get through the first day—go from there. I can handle this.
I want this. I need this. I love this. Writing is my passion. This is my dream job. A chance of a life time.
“Antonella,” my boss, who I have yet to get the name of, says in a less than pleasant tone.
“Good morning, sir.” I fake a smile the best I can.
“You’re almost late.” He taps his expensive watch, shooting me a cunning glare.
Almost late? I have minutes to spare. Why would it matter?
I raise a brow, yet say nothing. And here I thought Giordano was the most intimidating man I’ve ever met. He’s child’s play compared to this guy.
“Work, now.” His spit hits my cheek .
I wince, feeling violated. My lip curls up in a snarl as he walks away from me. Disgusting . I’m going to throw up. I swipe the spit off my face the moment he’s gone and sit in the black swivel chair inside the little, stuffy cubicle designated for me.
“I’m sorry about him,” a small woman's voice says from behind me. I jump and immediately turn to face her. A short, blonde-haired woman stands directly behind me, scrunching up her button nose. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s fine.” I sigh, giving the blonde woman a genuine smile.
“I’m Cami.” She holds her hand out.
I shake her hand gently. “Antonella, you can call me Toni.”
“First day?” She leans against the wall of the grey cubicle. There’s too many bright florescent lights in here. I’m already getting a headache.
“Can you tell?”
“I remember my first day.” She giggles while chomping on something. She looks younger than I am. How long has she been working here for? “I was so nervous. Don’t worry, as long as you stay on Mr. O’Duinn’s good side, you’ll be fine.”
“Mr. O’Duinn? Don’t tell me he’s the man I just met.” I groan.
“Yup,” she says, popping the ‘p’ with a bubble of pink bubblegum.
Ugh, I’m already off to a bad start. I cross my arms over my cardigan, which I’m thankful to have because someone must’ve set the temperature in here to Antarctica .
I laugh, hoping to ease the awkwardness. Doesn’t work, though. “I have a cousin Marvin. He’s a lawyer. The best of the best. Once got a nameless man free on grounds of self defense. And Marvin’s not as intimidating as this guy is. I was seconds away from throwing up in front of him.”
Cami holds back a laugh. “I know the feeling. Supposedly his son, Cillian, is also a piece of work. I’ve never seen him around here, though.” She leans in close to me. Her voice is a whisper, “I’ve also heard he’s like… super handsome.”
I snort. “Don’t worry.”
“You married?” She raises a brow, glancing down at my ringless finger while blowing another bubble.
I’m half-tempted to get a fake ring. Though Giordano might like the idea and buy me a real one. I shake my head, disregarding the idea. He’d like it too much, actually.
“No, not married.”
“You have a boyfriend then?”
What’s with this intense line of questioning? I scrunch up my nose and hesitate. What are we? Not a couple, technically. We never made it official. I’m certainly not going to tell her his name, either. Or how we’re fuck buddies. I mutter, “It’s… complicated.”
She leans back on her kitten heels and blows another bubble with her gum. “ Uncomplicate it then, because if Cillian comes around—I have dibs.”
“Okay.” I snort, again. She’s a piece of work. Don’t we have a job to do or something? “So, Cami , since you seem to be interested in this Cillian person, why don’t you go find him?”
“He’s not around , as I mentioned before.” She takes a sip from the obnoxiously large, hot pink water bottle she’s holding. Seriously, who needs a water bottle this large?
“Then, why are we talking about him? Anyway, I don’t want him.” I laugh and spin in the swivel chair.
I hit the log-in button on the desktop computer. I type in the company email and standard, randomized password they gave me. She’s still here? Is our conversation not done? I stare up at the drop ceiling. Oddio, she’s not going to let up, is she?
I spin around on the swivel chair, facing her directly. With a loud click of my tongue, I say, “I have someone.”
“You said it was complicated though.” Her little, beady blue eyes zero in on me .
“Doesn’t mean I’m not loyal.” I flip my curled hair over my shoulder and turn, yet again, to the computer screen.
Definitely not telling her who I’m with.
I have an inkling she’ll try to dig her little claws into Giordano the moment she sees him. The way she tried to claim dibs on a man she’s never met or seen before…
That’s wild.
“Well, if you need anything, my cubicle’s right here.” She points to the one directly behind mine. Of course it is.
“Thanks.” I grin. Fake, of course. She struts ten steps over, ice clinking around in her cup.
One email is already waiting in my inbox. I crack my knuckles, then open it up. The email address is a bunch of random numbers and a company I’m familiar with.
The Estrada.
Welcome to your new job, beautiful. Hope you enjoy.
Have a wonderful first day.
xxx C.
My heart beats profusely in my chest. This isn’t from Giordano at all—not because he is linked to The Estrada or anything. That I know of. He could be. Should I ask him?
Totally Mafia or FBI agent vibe—more so than the serial killer. The Estrada could be a front…
There’s one other man I know who I met directly in The Estrada. And he’s giving me a hint to his real name now. Duh, Toni. I smack my forehead.
“Put the clues together.” I clear my throat, standing and looking over her side of the cubicle. “Hey, Cami? Can you come here for a moment?”
“Yeah?” She chirps, hopping out of her chair, walking around the corner again. “Everything okay?”
I point to the message itself. “Who would C be related to The Estrada?”
She shrugs. “I couldn’t tell you. It’s your email. This isn’t the guy you’re dating- slash -not dating?”
Obviously not, if I’m asking you —is what I want to say. Instead, I shake my head and trash the email. Absolutely not engaging in this conversation. Giordano’s already possessive enough—not because it’d be my fault in the slightest. And I have no interest entertaining another man when I have a God at home.
Well, wherever he is.
Out killing people, probably. Again, why doesn’t the idea of him murdering bother me?
I shift my attention back on Cami. “He doesn’t work there.” Hearts flood across my vision at the thought of him .
I’m cooked.
She crosses her tiny arms over chest, leaning fully up. “Where does he work?”
I hesitate. Do I answer honestly or no? I suppose many people could work where he does. Honest answer, “Marzanetworks.”
Her brows shoot up, practically into her widows-peak hairline and she hurries back to her cubicle, silent.
“Cami?” I ask, curious at her sudden silence. She looks up at me and then back at her computer screen. Not responding. Actively ignoring me. Che cazzo? “ Cami ?” I ask, again, a little louder. What’s with her?
“Toni, I really need to get this research going. I suggest you do so as well, and stop worrying about a silly email, before Mr. O’Duinn has both of our asses.”
I nod. “Right.” I blink a few times, rubbing my eyes. I laugh and crack my neck and fingers. “No, you’re right.”
“If you need help with any site issues, I’ll be right here. Sometimes they can be a pain to navigate if you don’t know what you’re specifically looking for. Do you have your assignment from Mr. O’Duinn?”
“Got it. Thanks.” I grab my pen, the stack of paper with my assignment on it, and my notebook off of the desk.
Pretend to work.
Research. For the article. Research on a research article—staring into the void while tapping my pen against my chin. My phone vibrates on the desk.
Giordano
I’ll meet you at the restaurant, being held up a little later than I anticipated. I won’t have time to swing by your office to pick you up before our reservation time.
Okay.
The mysterious C keeps swirling in my head. Can C and Cillian be the same person? Of course. Why else would he randomly pop in time-to-time? Logical reasoning—the coincidences are lining up far too perfectly. He’s being too obvious. He never should’ve ended the email with C .
Cillian O’Duinn …
You also should’ve never given me your phone number.