Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
G aetano
Watching her every move, it’s clear the gummy has kicked in. She thinks it’s because she feels better after taking a shower. However, her walk is off, she’s moving a tad slower than usual.
I open the car door for her and watch her fall into the seat and giggle. It’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve heard in my life and pulls a smile from me. I hide it by closing the door and walking around the car.
“Seatbelt,” I mutter as I get in.
“Seatbelt,” is repeated in a deep voice. The brat is mocking me as she does the head bobbing from side to side thing she does when she’s happy. More giggles are coming from her as she attempts to put her seatbelt on—attempt because she keeps missing the slot somehow.
Biting my lip to hide the smile, I take the seatbelt from her hand. We both still at that fucking electricity that shoots through every cell in my body at the slight touch. Ignoring it like the good soldier I am, I get it clicked into place in five seconds flat.
I barely have the car on before the music that’s usually blaring from the speakers is cut off.
Shaking her head mournfully, I find Bianca with her hand on my stereo—a stereo I don’t let anyone touch. Not even Sandro or Luca are allowed to mess with my stereo. “Gaetano, you have the worst taste in music ever. I refuse to be subjected to that again.”
Those damn gummies. Fighting a smile at how big her eyes are as she flutters those long lashes at me. “The worst taste in music ever? This coming from the person who made her brother sit through a concert for Robbie Williams.”
Her gasp is loud in the confines of the car. “He swore he would never tell anyone about that. I was thirteen years old. All fashion, music, television, and movie choices made before eighteen should never be held against a person. It was that show’s fault. They seemed to have the coolest stuff from the 90’s. How was I not to believe them when they said he was worth going against their terrifying mammies? Their Irish accents, combined with his English accent, confused my young, impressionable brain. I’m not asking to listen to the music I love. Even if it is way better than yours, because, you know, it like doesn’t give people headaches, I’ll settle for the radio. We can even listen to the oldies station that Bobby loves. I like some stuff on there. That Frank Sinatra guy is really cool. I listen to him now because of Bobby’s love of the station.”
I send an eyebrow up at her. “The oldies station?”
“I’m trying to be thoughtful here, Gaetano.” The brat is unrepentant. “Even though I think you’d like my music if you let yourself.”
Shaking my head, I give in. I’ve been listening to the music she loved for the last few months, and it’s actually not bad. “This I have to hear. Fine. Plug in your oh-so-wonderful mix.”
Her little squeal of happiness fills the car, and I couldn’t hold back my laughter if I wanted to. She pulls out her phone and connects the Bluetooth to it. As she clicks through her phone, her head is doing the bobbing thing again. Once the music comes out of the speakers, her eyes are on me.
I pretend to consider the song. Even if I hated it, I couldn’t say it to those wide, hopeful eyes. “Not bad.”
The triumphant smile spreading across her beautiful face goes straight to my cock. I swear she has a dozen different smiles, and every one of them makes me want to do whatever it takes to see it again.
I’m gifted with her singing off-key during the drive and don’t dare say a word about it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s better than the original. Taylor isn’t bad, but Bianca blows her away.
Parking in front of the big box store, I sigh. I hate going into places like this. However, I also don’t like the idea of her wandering around the store on her own. The tight black yoga pants she’s wearing are clinging to her round, juicy ass. It doesn’t help the way the shirt she’s wearing has a graphic of red lips being licked by a pink tongue between her breasts. No fucking way is she wandering around on her own looking as fucking delicious as she is.
“So you never go shopping?” Her eyes are curious as I take the red shopping cart from the long line of them as we walk inside. “What do you do, get delivery?”
“No, I have a housekeeper. She comes in twice a week to clean and does all the shopping I need.”
“What about your clothes shopping? Does she do that, too?”
At least the place is relatively quiet. I’m guessing most places aren’t too busy on a Tuesday early evening. “No, all of my clothes are made by a tailor, so there isn’t really any shopping. I call them and tell them what I want made, and they deliver it when it’s done.”
We’re in the area for the makeup and personal care stuff when she moves ahead of me and goes down the aisle. It’s filled with flowery scents for body wash and soaps. When she bends over to take a bottle of body wash off the shelf, my cock jerks at the sight. I watch as she opens it and sniffs. The face she makes is cute as fuck before she shakes her head and puts it back.
I swallow a groan. “Why aren’t you just getting what you usually get?” Comes out harsher than I mean for it to. We’re in public. I can’t walk around with a hard cock. We need to wrap this shit up quick.
“Because I don’t have a usual one. I like to try different ones. It’s been a minute since I tried this one, and I forgot it smells like a wet dog covered in cinnamon and sugar. You didn’t have to come in with me. If you want, you can wait in the car.” She speaks slowly as though I’m a small child. Brat.
Fuck that. “It’s fine.”
It’s cute as fuck the way she hikes up an eyebrow at me. Then she rolls her eyes and picks up another bottle. Opening it, she inhales deeply. Her beautiful face scrunches up, and she’s quick to put it back on the shelf.
My phone buzzes with a text. It’s Dario wondering if I’m okay or need anything because Sandro told him I’m sick. Shit. The last thing I need is him worried and coming over to check on me.
Hey, I’m fine. Just feel like shit. I got delivery for over-the-counter medicine. I’ll be good.
Suddenly, a bottle appears in front of my face. “What do you think?” Those chocolate eyes are teasing me.
Brat. I decide to tease back. Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I catch her wrist and pull her closer to me to smell the bottle. I don’t miss the way her breath catches.
It’s not the usual vanilla. The scent is light and flowery, with a juicy orange tinge and something else I can’t place. And I want to find out if it changes the taste of her skin.
“I like it,” I mutter as I let her go.
Blushing, she tosses it into the cart. Turning away from me, she moves slowly down the aisle.
At least in the next aisle, it takes two seconds for her to find her usual deodorant and toss it in the cart. She’s in front of me, guiding the cart with a hand on it. “I tried that natural deodorant, and oh my god, was it gross. Blah, blah, blah, regular deodorant is going to give you cancer. I swear, everything is going to give us cancer. It’s whatever. I mean, who gives a shit if it’s cancer when you’re in your sixties? Right now, my ass is not going to stink—thank you very much.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me. With her hand waving around, seeing her so animated is fucking with my head—and my cock.
I’m not sure if I’m annoyed or not when, instead of bending over, she crouches down in front of what she’s looking at. She has two boxes in her hands as she stands. Looking at them thoughtfully, she turns them over. They’re weird ass hairbrush dryers. I’ve never seen them before.
I spot the prices for them. One is two hundred dollars, and the other is one hundred and twenty dollars. I say nothing about how she left the fifty-five-dollar one on the shelf, as she should.
Sighing, “Why aren’t we going back to your place so you can get your own things you forgot yesterday?”
She narrows her eyes. “Because this is the cost of you being an asshole.” The talking to a small child voice is back. “If you had given me the time I needed, we wouldn’t need to come here or go back at all. But no , you want to be an asshole, so now you deal with the consequences. Which is you pulling out your credit card and paying for this stuff.”
I’m biting my cheek to keep from laughing at her. I take the most expensive box from her hand and toss it in the cart. “I rushed your ass because I was afraid of the gummy kicking in when I wasn’t around….”
Her look tells me she hasn’t forgiven me for that either.
I can respect that. “Fine. What’s next?”
This time, she bends over when she puts the other box back on the shelf, and I stop breathing. Christ. I’m going to hell, to the very fucking depths where I’ll never?—
“Gaetano? Hello, are you okay?” She is two inches from me. If I move in the slightest, I’ll touch her. And if I touch her, then I’m completely fucked.
Stepping back, I nod. “Yeah, thinking about work. Sorry.” I check my phone to find my brother has responded to let him know if I needed anything.
Those chocolate eyes narrow on me before sighing. “We have to go back a few aisles. I forgot about something to protect my hair from the heat of the brush dryer thingy.”
On our way to that aisle, she stops in an aisle for hair stuff as in various hair ties. She grabs some covered in velvet and another pack of thin, black elastic.
In this aisle, she scans the shelves. She’s grabbing one, then another, comparing them. I notice one is less than ten dollars, and the other is almost thirty. It does seem a little crazy, considering how small both bottles are. I don’t give a shit if one is double the price.
I snag the more expensive one from her hand and toss it in the basket. “Are we done?”
Her snort is cute. “You wish. I need clothes and other stuff.” She blushes, and I’m relieved she has no idea a pair of her panties is missing from what she brought yesterday. No way in hell was I giving up a pair of her panties that had even a trace of her juice on them. “If not, I’m going to be doing laundry every few days.”
Sighing, I allow her to steer the cart toward the food section of the store I had no idea it had. I haven’t been in this place in years.
“Gaetano, do you like what you do? I mean, do you wish you could do something else?” The question is small and soft, and she’s got her eyes fixed on the array of chips in front of her as if they were the most interesting thing she’d ever seen.
“Yeah, I like it. I’m not cut out to spend a day in an office with a boss micromanaging me or even going out on my own. This is the life I was raised to live, and I like my life.” Snagging a bag of chips, I toss it in the cart.
I don’t miss the way her shoulders sag at my answer. She pastes a fake smile on her beautiful face. “That’s good. I mean, isn’t that the point of it all, to like your life?” It isn’t really a question. “Oh, I love these chips. They are my favorite of all time.”
After tossing the chips in the cart, she turns and sways. “Ooh, okay.”
I’m behind her in an instant, catching her arm to bring her up against me. “Are you all right? Do you want to leave?”
A hum comes out of her as she sags into me. Between the low hum and her soft, sexy body against mine, my cock turns to steel. “No, it feels good. It’s a nice floaty feeling, not scary or anything… I was scared yesterday?”
Christ. It’s not easy to focus. I nod. “After the gummy kicked in, it freaked you out because it was too strong. Are you sure?”
Her nod is emphatic. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s not horrible. And I stopped feeling icky and cranky. I like it. I’m good.”
“This is as much as you’re going to feel it. Considering it kicked in before we left the house.”
She whips her head around to me and stands on her own—thank god because my cock is about to fucking break. “You knew and didn’t tell me?”
I shrug. “I thought you knew yourself when you messed with my stereo. It didn’t seem like something you would do without being high.”
A pout is on her delicious mouth, and I take a step back from the edge of fucking up completely. Then she considers my words. “Okay, yeah, you’re right. I did kind of fall into your car, and I felt a bit happy, like the first time I got drunk, but not as strong. I like this over alcohol.”
“Good to know. Also, you aren’t touching either of them until you’re twenty-one. Do you understand?”
The brat rolls her eyes at me. “Yes, Mr. Bossypants. Ooh, I love this white cheddar popcorn, but I can’t find it anywhere. That means two bags. “
I’m working on forcing my cock down, thinking of the last time my wife tried to start something in the bedroom does the trick. I turn to find Bianca bent over, looking at something on the bottom shelf. “I’m low on butter. That’s where I’ll be.” In the coldest part of the store, hopefully it helps.
“Okay,” I hear her chirp from behind me.
I’ve thrown a thing of butter in the cart and am strolling around the cold section when I spot the edible cookie dough I remember Sandro talking about because Bianca wanted it. He mentioned he had no idea there was a difference between edible cookie dough and the stuff ready to bake. I reminded him of something called salmonella.
I throw a roll of the edible dough in the cart. I’m working hard to remember everything he said about Bianca, and by the time she finally finds me, the cart is almost full.
“Where did you go? I thought you left me for a minute.” That pout, fucking hell, that pout. All I want to do is kiss it away.
“Sorry, I was trying to make sure I got the stuff you would want as food and not simply snacks. Aside from the rice, beans, and tortillas, there isn’t a whole lot else in my cupboards I thought you would like.” I explain. “I should have at least stayed closer to the refrigerated section the way I said I would be.”
I’m impressed at how much she can carry. Her arms are overflowing with more chips, salsa, queso dip, pancake mix, and a mini waffle maker. Lifting an eyebrow at her, I take the two other bags of chips and toss them in the basket. I slide the glass jar of salsa from under one arm and the queso dip from under the other arm and place them both in the cart.
I take in the mini waffle maker and box of pancake mix. “I have a waffle maker at home.”
Her eyes are wide, and I could get lost in those chocolate depths if I let myself, but I don’t because one of us has to keep it together. “This one is better. You can change out the little plates into all these awesome shapes, Gaetano. A heart, a sunflower, Santa Claus—who wouldn’t want a Santa Claus waffle, and then you can have little griddles to make stuff like eggs and stuff. This is a way better one than the one you have. A heart, Gaetano. Please. Please, can we get it?”
Closing my eyes against her pleading, I understand why she’s such a brat. I can’t tell her no. Not to a fucking thing, and if she ever figures that out, I’m screwed. “Fine.”
The squeal of happiness as she tosses it in the basket is loud enough, it catches the attention of a woman a few feet away.
“Come on, what else do you need to get?”
“Panties and some pants, or I’ll be happy with a few skirts and definitely a few bras. And if I can find some shirts that are comfy without being weirdly shaped, that would be great.” She says as we pass the woman who was staring at us. The woman’s mouth purses in judgment, and I give her a hard glare that has her moving away at a fast clip.
I follow behind Bianca as she guides the cart with one hand. She’s talking about how the last time she tried to shop here, the dresses didn’t fit right, and how she gave up on buying clothes outside of dedicated fat chick stores. I lose it.
Capturing her by the ponytail, I pull her back to me. Those eyes are wide as I bend her back to look her in the eye. “You don’t use the word fat to describe yourself again. Not even in a joking manner. That word isn’t you, and I don’t want to hear it come out of your mouth. Do you understand?”
She blinks a few times, and at first, I think it’s processing what I said. Then I see it’s her fighting back tears.
I catch her around the back of her neck and pull her up against me. “I mean it. And you feel it, too. It doesn’t fit you. Ignore the shit outside of you that doesn’t matter.”
A hand slides over my cheek, causing every muscle in my body to tighten in reaction.
Out of nowhere, a kid who couldn’t be more than eight or nine slides between me and the cart tugs at Bianca’s hand. I want to damage the kid for interrupting her touch on me. “Hi, you’re pretty. Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
“She’s taken. Go away.” I growl at him.
“Henry, good god, I look away for two minutes. Leave her alone. Sorry, kids.” The mother of Henry is tugging him away, offering a nervous smile.
Shaking my head, I look down at her. “See, even the kid gets it.”
She’s glowing like the sun as she giggles. “You told him I was taken.”
Son of a bitch. I don’t want to do it. Except I have to shut down even a hint that I want her as badly as I do. Because if I don’t, it gives her ideas, and ideas become me six feet under. Forcing a laugh, “I was trying to get rid of him without being a asshole. On account of I’ve been called that a few times. Come on, let’s get this going. It feels like we’ve been in here forever.”
That’s all it takes. It’s as though I’ve turned off the light in her eyes. “Of course. Right. Sorry.”
She’s walking fast ahead of me, weaving in and out of the people who seem to appear out of nowhere. A crowd of girls moves in front of me, and she’s lost in them. I blink, and I lose her. Where the hell did she go?
I’m wandering the clothes section, trying to find her. When I’m about to lose my shit, she’s in front of me. Her hands are full of clothes. “I’m ready.”
I don’t miss the attitude in the way she tosses her stuff in the cart and moves away from me before I could say a word if I wanted to.
The cashier keeps shit moving. Or maybe she’s doing it so I can’t say I changed my mind. Four hundred and change. Whatever, I was the one who put half the shit inside the cart and picked the more expensive stuff.
“Are you mad?” Is whispered as we leave the building.
“Mad? No. Why would you think I was mad?” She’s walking ahead of me, her long hair fluttering in her face so I can’t read her.
I push the buttons on the fob to unlock the car and to send the trunk up. She’s in front of the trunk, grabbing sacks to put them in the trunk. “My mom would say my dad was angry with her when she spent money. Sandro never complains about money, but I know sometimes?—”
“Hey, I’m not mad at you. The cost of that shopping trip is a drop in the bucket compared to what I spend any day of the week. If you thought it was about you, then I’m sorry. Now stop putting stuff in the trunk. You don’t do that, I do that.” I open her car door and wait until she gets in before closing it.
It takes a few minutes to move all the bags into the trunk. A guy takes the cart from me. Inside the car, I find Bianca plugged into my stereo already.
I shake my head, “Sure, have fun with my stereo.”