“Umm, well, there’s this foot-long sub I always buy from Frankie’s. It's a roast beef sub with caramelized onions and mushrooms, it’s fucking awesome,” I smiled up at him. My mood changed when I learned I was about to eat.
“So a foot-long roast beef sub, with caramelized onions and mushrooms. Let’s drop all these fucking bags back in the car, and get your food,” Buddha said, and then he stepped closer, bent his body so he could complete his sentence in my ear. “Then when you’re done, I’ll take you back home so I can eat you.”
The promise of Buddha putting his mouth on me had me forgetting all about stupid ass Lewis. Kissing my cheek, I smiled at Buddha and shyly nodded my head. As we left the store, I couldn’t help but look around to see if I spotted Lewis, but he was long gone. I made a mental note to check in on Chanel. I had to make Buddha trust me enough to give me back my phone.
Chapter Nine- Buddha
I sat at the edge of the bed and stared at Dior. Both her arms were splayed out on either side of the bed as she slept. Only her waist was covered with the blanket; her breasts and legs were on full display. I eyed the hickeys I left on her breasts and neck.
Twirling the pocket knife around in my hand, I looked at our packed suitcases. We leave for Tuscany, Italy, in the next five hours on my father’s private jet. The sound of what can be described as a motorbike with a busted engine made me pause, swinging the knife around. I frowned as I studied Dior. Sure enough, the noise came again, and I shook my head.
Dior's snoring was something that could only be considered mind-boggling. She snored like a construction worker who covered a ten-hour shift. Her mouth was slightly open as she breathed like a dragon. I couldn't help but chuckle as I stared at her. I’d worn her ass out when we got back from the mall. I looked down at my naked chest and the scratches she left with her nails. Shit would burn like a mothafucka when I took a shower later on.
I resumed swinging the knife unconsciously as I thought long and hard about what I’d gotten myself into. Dior was a beautiful distraction that I never planned on. She somehow started to melt my heart that had been frozen for a very long time. I had managed to keep women away from my heart but close to my bed.
It had been hard for me since Catalina. I know I was young, and my teenage self didn’t know the difference between love and infatuation. That didn’t stop me from wishing things had been different between Catalina and me. I legit thought that what I felt was love. After getting caught and tortured byEdwardo for a week, I vowed to myself that women just weren’t worth the headache.
I hardened my heart when I was released. From the age of nineteen up until now, all of my encounters with women have been casual. If I weren’t getting my dick sucked from strippers, I'd be bending escorts over for a couple of hundred dollars. It made my life a whole lot easier. Fuck ‘em and leave ‘em was a motto I’d lived by.
Until this hibernating bear came along, I looked at Dior snoring and scratched the top of my head. Dior sure gave me a run for my money. She was everything I never wanted in a woman. Hard-headed, way too fucking dominant, and she didn’t know when to shut the fuck up. She possessed all the qualities that drove me crazy and made me want to steer clear of a female like that. Yet here I was, married to exactly the kind of woman who I knew would test my patience every morning she opened her eyes. I looked down at the ring on my finger and twirled it around. I was really a married man.
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sighed softly, hating that I allowed Dior to wiggle her way into my life and that she was slowly thawing my heart. The buzzing of my phone in my pants pocket brought me out of my thoughts.
Taking the phone out, I frowned when I saw it was my father. I wondered why he was calling me. Easing off the bed, I quickly stepped out of the bedroom to take my father’s call.
“Tomasso,” I said, answering on the third ring.
“You need to get over here to the main house ASAP,” Tomasso sounded a bit flustered, and I got worried that something had happened to my mother.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, holding my breath, waiting for him to clarify.
“Just get here,” he said before ending the call. I looked at the phone, wondering what the fuck that was about. Making myway back into the bedroom, I grabbed a t-shirt and put it on. Shoving my feet into my Gucci sneakers, I walked over to my dresser and picked up my Glock, tucking it into my waistband. Placing the pocket knife on the dresser, I grabbed my car keys and walked over to the bed.
“Hey,” I gently touched Dior’s cheek to wake her from her sleep. Slowly, she opened her eyes and looked up at me. She had a panicked expression and bolted upright in bed.
“Oh shit, is it time to get ready for our flight?” She tried to get up, but I placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Na, you good. I have to run to the main house to talk to Tomasso about something. I’ll be right back.” I kissed her lips tenderly before I stood up so I could leave.
“Are you gonna lock me in?” Dior’s question made me pause. I eyed her thoughtfully, thinking about it.
“Can I trust that you won’t do no stupid shit?” I asked, knowing that she wouldn’t try to run away again. Dior was right where she should be, with my family and me.
“I think I’ll go back to sleep then. Where’s Lotus?” She asked, adjusting the blanket around her body.
“I’ll send her in to keep you company,” I told her, walking toward the door.
“Will you be long?” This was a question Dior always seemed to ask as I was leaving, and one I really came to enjoy answering.
“No, I’ll be right back. Get in there, Lotus,” I commanded the Retriever, who happily ran inside the bedroom. Closing the door, I wasted no time heading to my Bugatti.
“What the fuck?” I muttered once I drove closer to the main house. The place was swarming with police cars, at least five. I parked quickly and jumped out, racing to the front door. I had no idea what was going on, but this could not be good.
“Hey, hey, you just can’t come up in here,” a burly officer grabbed my arm as I made my way toward the living room. I stopped and looked at the man with the pot belly and balding hair.
“Non toccarmi, cazzo,(don’t fucking touch me)” I said in Italian, with a very deadly look on my face, before I pulled my arm away.
“I don’t know what the fuck you just said, but you cannot go in there.”
