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“Come, come. Dinner is nearly ready.” Mamma claps her hands, breaking whatever energy is buzzing around the foyer. My narrowed eyes flick between my best friend and sister, and not for the first time do I make a mental note to talk to him about my suspicions. I am never usually wrong, but this time I want to be.
Because if what I think is happening, is in facthappening. Well, let’s just say, Dante won’t have to worry about my papà putting a bullet in his head for calling my mamma by her given name.
It will be because of this shit with my sister.
Chapter 18
Ocean
My first week atBellissimapasses quickly.
Though it took a couple days, I have finally managed to get the hang of everything and am settling into my new routine. It’s nice to finish work at an appropriate time and wake early in the morning so that I can work out. Working nights messed with my sleeping pattern, and I would sleep in until lunchtime, most days.
I haven’t seen Nico since the night he took me to dinner. The night he spoke dirty words to me, turning me on until my panties were soaked and my pussy ached with need. I would never admit it, but I feel a little empty inside not seeing him. It’s almost as if my whole body has slowed down, waiting for the moment Nico returns so it can revert to its normal self. I won’t delve into that emotion right now because, quite frankly, my emotions toward that man are all over the place and pure madness.
On a better note, one that doesn’t involve Nico, I have managed to find a ballet studio. It feels good to get back into dancing in that environment. Had things been different at home, and my dreams of being a prima ballerina weren’t going to be taken away from me when I turned eighteen, I would have worked hard enough to secure a position at a prestigious balletschool. Somewhere like The School of American Ballet, here in New York. From the moment my mom took me to my first ballet class, I knew it was what I was meant to do. I wanted – still want – nothing more than to be a professional ballerina, and it saddens me that I may not achieve those dreams. Life, well, my father if I am being specific, had other plans for me. Plans I wanted no part of. I shudder in revulsion just thinking about it, and quickly divert my thoughts back to ballet. To happier times.
Times when I was in my element at the ballet school I attended from when I was just a little girl, up until around six months ago. The place I took on big roles such asClarainThe Nutcracker.JulietinRomeo and Juliet.OdetteinSwan Lake. Though I am grateful for the opportunities I was given, if I am being honest, I wanted more than my teenage dance studio. I wanted to travel. To be the best ballet dancer the world had ever seen.
I can still try for my dreams again at some point, but most dancers work at their form and skills extensively every day, which is something I no longer have the privilege of doing, so it puts me at a disadvantage. I would have to work extremely hard to return to the level I once was. That doesn’t bother me, and I know I would get there if I were to return to a professional school. But my need to keep hidden is bigger than my need to dance at that level right now. I know my family is still looking for me and will probably never stop. The first places they would look, given what they know about me, are places like dance studios and colleges with extensive ballet programs. So, it is better to stay away. Hide in the shadows. Dance in the dark… Maybe someday it will happen for me, but for right now, while I am running, hiding, I need to keep my head down and be as inconspicuous as I can. Hence why I chose a small run-down studio in Brooklyn, with its graffitied external walls and neglected look. If it weren’t for the small sign on the door, no onewould even guess it was a studio. Which means it is perfect for me.
The ding of the door opening alerts me to someone entering and drags me from my thoughts. My head snaps up, my stomach tightening when my gaze meets Nico’s. I lick my lips as I watch him. His lean body. How he fills out that expensive, custom suit. He is so hot it should be illegal. His lips curve into a smirk as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking.
“Tesoro,” he greets, humor in his deep raspy voice.
My spine snaps straight with that one word, and the rush I have been waiting to feel since the last time I saw him, explodes in my body, lighting up every nerve and making my blood burn hotter.
“Nico,” I breathe, suddenly feeling a little lightheaded. I clear my throat, hoping I sound more confident than I feel. “Are you here to see Macy?” I blurt, because it’s the only thing that makes sense. I thought, after not seeing or hearing from him in nearly a week, whatever was blooming between us was over.
His eyes locked on mine as he runs a thumb across that full bottom lip of his. That movement alone has liquid heat seeping into my panties. It’s so fucking hot. I lick my dry lips, wishing more than anything Nico’s were pressed against my own, owning me. Claiming me. Sucking the life from me...
The shake of his head snaps me from my reverie. Shoving his hands in his pants pockets, he stares at me with cold, calculating eyes. I swallow, shifting on my feet as I wait for him to respond to my question and when he does, my heart jumps into my throat.
“Nah. Get your things. I want to show you something.” It’s not a question but a demand.
My eyes widen, and I shake my head. “I-I don’t finish work for another hour.”
He pins me with an amused look, taking a step toward me. “Good thing you know the boss then, right? Macy is getting you covered. Don’t make me ask again,Tesoro.”
I stare at him in disbelief. Just then Macy sashays into the reception area drawing my attention to her. Spotting Nico, she comes to a stop, her eyes flashing with… is that lust? I grit my teeth, my fists balling when something a lot like jealousy consumes me. Does he have this effect on every woman that encounters him? I hold in a laugh, shaking my head. Yes. Yes of course he does.
“Mr. Marchetti, hi,” she murmurs, her voice all breathy, filled with desire. I watch her. The way she flutters her eyelashes and bites her lip. She screams sex. Yet, I am just… well, I am just me. I may be attractive, but I don’t know how to be effortlessly sexy.
“Macy,” he greets her, his gaze shifting to her. “I trust you did as I asked, and have someone to cover the front desk?”
She clears her throat, along with the want written all over her face and nods with a proud smile. “I did.”
“Good.” His eyes move back to me. “Why are you still standing there? Go get your things and change out of your uniform.” He glances down at the mandated all-black pants and smock top with gold writing. “Now, Ocean.” He demands, making me jump at the slight bark in his voice. Glancing between them, I decide that now is not the time to argue with him. Nodding my head in acquiesce, I rush towards the staff room to collect my duffle and change.
Grabbing my bag out of the locker, I exhale with annoyance. Who does he think he is? But more importantly, why do I submit to his demands so easily? Sighing, I unzip my bag, pulling out the black yoga pants, sweatshirt, and Chucks I have stuffed in there along with my leotard, ballet slippers, and tights. I had plans to dance after my shift and now the arrogant asshole has ruined that. I could always argue with him, but I know there’sno point. It will only waste my energy, and something tells me I need to conserve it whenever I can around Nico Marchetti.
Huffing, I quickly change and then make my way back out to the entrance. Macy stands behind the desk, her eyes conspicuously on Nico as he leans against a wall, looking down at something on his cell. Hearing my footsteps both of their gazes snap to me. I swallow, ignoring Macy’s burning gaze in the side of my head and stride towards the man who is quickly taking over my life and, like a runaway train, I have no control over it.
His pale blue orbs spark with satisfaction when he spots me. Shoving his cell in his suit jacket pocket, he pushes off the wall, closing the distance between us. As if he needs to touch me, his palm lands on my lower back. Heat courses through me, creating goosebumps and warming every inch of my skin at the small contact.
“See you tomorrow,” I mumble at Macy, my cheeks heating in embarrassment.
“Bye, Ocean. Have a good evening. You too, Mr. Marchetti.” Though Macy’s voice is chirpy, I don’t miss the hint of jealousy. Great. Is she going to start treating me differently now?
