13. This car, though…
MICHELA
13
On the car dealership’s main floor, I flip through a magazine about sailing while the afternoon sun pierces the large window and tans my right side. Outside, Charlie pulls up with Corrado’s car, and from the corner of my eye, I catch Corrado and the man shaking hands.
We’re leaving. In a hurry. I rise and fling the magazine on top of the table. It hits the other five magazines, and every one of them slides right off the glass. Cursing under my breath, I start picking up the magazines. The sailing one is under the table, so I get down on my knees to fetch it.
I put it on the table, but just as I’m about to get up, a pair of legs appears on my right.
Corrado’s left boot nudges my knee.
I look up. “Was just… Never mind me. Did you buy the car?”
“Never mind the car when I have you on your knees.”
I laugh, and he offers me a hand.
I accept, and we leave the dealership. At the car, I say, “Congratulations. She is beautiful.”
From behind, Corrado presses into me, and I have no choice but to walk the few steps until my front is pressed against the car. His hardness throbs against my butt. “You want to take her home?”
While Charlie drew up the papers, Corrado must’ve showered off the dust and explosive material because his cologne smells like sandalwood with a dash of crushed vanilla, and under the burning New York sun, I briefly close my eyes and think about the beach, the sand, and strong hands gripping my bottom while he fucks me in the water.
Whoooo.
“Home.” I repeat the last thing I heard, hoping it’ll bring me back to reality and out of the delusions I’m having about vacations. And sex. Lots of delusions about sex. Particularly having sex with the man who smells sinfully hot and whose body I can’t unsee. Those strong thighs. The size of his dick. Can’t. Unsee.
He bites my earlobe.
“Corrado.” I swallow.
“Say my name like that again,” he growls in my ear.
“Corrado.”
“What’s it taste like?”
His name. He wants to know how his name tastes when I say it. Oh my God, who talks like this? Italian men, apparently.
“It tastes…” I try to think of the right comparison, but can’t quite find one. “Unfamiliar.”
“And you’re afraid of what you don’t know. Is that it?”
“I’m afraid I do know.”
Corrado slaps my bottom. “Get in the car.”
Something I said must have upset him, because he didn’t open the door for me. To be clear, no one has ever opened doors for me. That’s how I know his effect on me is already showing. The way he treats me will leave scars. I’m already wondering if the next man I meet will open the door for me. Not once or twice, but for the rest of his life. Corrado is the kind of man who does this for life. And the kind of man who takes it away when displeased.
Since Corrado is in the passenger seat, I get in the back. The moment I sit down, he turns in his seat and gives me a strange look.
“What are you doing back there?” he asks.
“Um, waiting for Hank, I think.”
Corrado’s brows draw down. “Hank’s at the apartment. You’re driving. Come on.”
“Oh no. No, I can’t.”
“You can. You drive a car. I saw your car this morning.”
“You don’t understand. This is a hundred-thousand-dollar car, and I’m terrified of driving this beautiful car on the crazy streets of New York.”
“It’s a half-a-million-dollar car.”
I gape at him. “You paid that much for a car? Oh my God, I didn’t even know a car could be as much as a house. Is the paint real gold?”
Corrado’s lip twitches. He wants to laugh, but he’s still displeased about something. I’m guessing the two moods war within him.
“She is reenforced with custom-made metals and bulletproof windows. It’s a baby tank that looks like a glitzy car.”
“Wow. Didn’t even know people could buy baby tanks.”
“Most people can’t. I can.”
“There’s always that.”
“There is. Now get in the driver’s seat, wife, and take your ol’ man home.” He turns away before I can see if he’s smiling. Too late. I heard the joy laced through his voice, and I smile, too.
Fine, I’ll drive the beautiful car.
Half an hour later
I love this car.
And I finally understand why the men said the engine purrs like a kitten. It’s a silent, powerful engine, barely audible inside the car, making me feel like I’m gliding on air and not rolling over asphalt.
Next to me, Corrado thumbs through his phone. When he puts it away and looks straight ahead, I say, “Most guys prefer to drive.”
“Most guys can’t afford a driver.”
I side-eye him. “I’m your driver, hm?”
He sighs. “You’re not my driver, Michela. You’re my wife.”
“About that—” I start.
He interrupts. “We’ll discuss it over dinner.” He winces and touches his temple.
“Do you have a headache?”
He nods. “A migraine.”
“I have meds in my purse if you want.”
“I’ll grab some at home. Look out!”
I swirl back into my lane. “Sorry. Sorry.” Jesus.
He scrubs his face, then grabs my purse. I presume he’s looking for headache meds, but he pulls out my wallet instead and opens it. I’ve got seventeen dollars and a pile of debt on one of my two credit cards. “The meds are in the red-and-white travel pouch.”
He pulls out my driver’s license and shows it to me. “Still valid. Surprise, surprise.”
“Haha. Very funny.”
He tucks the license back, then pulls out a picture of my brother that I took on the last birthday we celebrated together. Corrado regards it with interest, then puts it back, no questions asked.
I find myself wanting to justify who the man in the picture is. “That’s me and Gordon. My twin.”
Corrado nods. “Is that your only sibling?”
“Yes, just two of us.” Or one of us now. Pain squeezes my heart. I don’t want to talk about Gordon anymore. “How about you? How many siblings do you have?”
“An older brother and sister. They’re twins.”
“Oh wow, really?”
Corrado grabs his phone. He swiftly goes through it and finds a picture, then looks up. “I’ll show you when you park.”
We drive down his Manhattan street, and naturally, I can’t find parking.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Looking for the parking spot.” Duh.
“We park in the garage.”
“There’s a garage?”
He shows me around the building, and I descend underground, park, and turn in my seat. “If there’s a garage and you can park here, why did my car get towed?”
“Convenience.” Corrado gets out as if it’s no big deal that his people are towing every car that parks in the slot he wants in front of the building.
When I get out and am about to give him a piece of my mind, he meets me outside and shows me a picture of a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed man wearing a sharp black suit standing with a tall, dirty-blonde woman wearing a salmon minidress paired with teal heels.
“My siblings. Severio and Paulina.”
“They’re beautiful people. Your sister is stunning. Does she model?”
Corrado nods. “Not on the runway. Only jewelry.”
“And your brother?”
“Severio runs our financial empire.” The phone slides back into his pocket. “I work with him.”
“In what capacity?” I ask.
“Head of human resources.”
“Oh, like recruitment. Hence the congressmen and others last night. Got it.” I’m sure Corrado’s position as the head of human resources of his financial empire is vastly different from any other human resources director position, given that his empire is built over blown-up lots and the like.
“Speaking of work. There was no interview, was there?” he asks.
Since he’s being honest with me, I admit, “Not today.”
“Tomorrow?”
I shake my head. “The house-sitting job was the best I’ve gotten in six months.”
“And what are you looking for?”
“Anything and everything.”
“That’s not what I meant. What kind of work do you want?”
“You’ll laugh if I tell you.”
Corrado frowns. “Maybe, but you’ll tell me anyway.”
“Botanical design. Interior, mainly, but I’d love to do lavish gardens and holiday décor someday.”
He pauses for a beat. “As soon as I get upstairs, I’ll google botanical design.”
I’m the one who laughs. “I think blowing up places puts you in the mood for jokes.”
Corrado narrows his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I sober and clear my throat. “Sorry. Bad joke. I don’t know what I’m talking about either.”
An awkward silence descends, and I shuffle my feet. “Well, I’ll be going, then.” I start walking, hoping he’ll ask his driver to take me home. I cross my fingers and look toward the sky, where I wonder if anyone is listening.
“Michela,” Corrado calls after me, and I turn because the Force is listening. Thank you!
Corrado tosses me the car key. I scramble to catch it as he walks away. “Pick me up at seven.”
“Corrado, wait. I can’t drive this car in my neighborhood.”
Corrado is almost inside the building, so I rush after him.
“Corrado, wait.”
He turns around, and when I run into him, he traps me, strong hands locking around my body. I can’t move. I can’t even wiggle away as he holds me so I’m looking up at him while his jaw works, his gaze on my mouth.
“Drive the car, Michela,” he says, an edge to his voice.
His hard body softens mine even more. I can feel his erection and can barely remember my name. “If…” I swallow, my mouth suddenly parched. “If I take this car to my neighborhood, it’ll get stolen. Or vandalized.”
“That’s too bad,” Corrado says.
I nod.
“Then you have to stay with me at the apartment.”
“I can’t today.”
Corrado stares again. While he says he does this because looking at me pleases him, I think he uses the time to make decisions. He’s fast about it, and firm. That’s attractive. I take eighty-four years to make a decision, only to change my mind the next day. My thinking process is vicious.
“Then leave the car here,” he says. “Hank will drive you home today, but Michela…” He dips his head low. Lower yet. I inhale his cologne. Spice and sandalwood.
He will kiss me.
I close my eyes and feel my body turn into goo. When he doesn’t kiss me, I blink up at him.
He’s still there, just watching, and now I feel stupid. Blushing, I swallow.
He has the audacity to smirk. “I’ll pick you up at seven.” He releases me and leaves.
“What should I wear? Where are we going?”
He disappears into the stairwell, but I’m pretty sure he said to wear nothing.