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First, I can’t deny I am curious what Arte Italiana posted on their page. Whatever it is, it was probably after I received the best head of my life. I close my legs tight at the memory as I’ve been fighting tooth and nail to refuse my body to lead. If it does, I’ll be on my knees sucking the dear white sticky life out of Alexander. Fuck him!
I grab my phone again and hop on Instagram to see what these thrilling pictures look like. Sure enough. They are smoking hot.
The caption reads, Emerging billionaire and art collector Alexander Masters with his artist, and girlfriend, Micola Costa from the Costa legacy of Cefalu, Sicily, attend Britain’s high art auction. The comments are off the chart: ¨smoking hot couple¨, ¨Couple goals,¨ ¨You can tell they have the best sex!¨, He’s so damn hot!” ¨Look at her legs!¨ ¨I love her hair.¨ ¨I wanna see what their babies will look like!¨
And then the best comment ever: ¨He looks like he can snatch your soul with those eyes.¨
I want to reply to that comment so badly with, “Yes! You have no fucking idea what I’m dealing with over here!¨ But, I don’t.
Instead, I see exactly why everyone is going nuts over us. There are a total of three photos in this post. The first one is with us staring directly into the cameras. It is after the show; I can see the tension on Alexander’s face. His eyes cut at the camera as he grips my hip with so much bite that you can see the whiteness of his thumb on my hip. He’s holding me as if he owns me, and for whatever odd, twisted, psychological reason, it is turning me on incredibly. I don’t bother looking at the other two photos. Instead, I rise, straightening out my blue jean romper. I check myself in the mirror before I slide my door open, facing Alex’s wide open door.
There’s Sicilian music coming from his room. Walking across the hall, I hear him clearing his throat, and it tickles my ear. Hesitantly, I tap on his open door. He sticks his head out of the bathroom before stepping out. He’s bare-chested and a bit wet between his pecs; I unpeel my eyes to meet his. This isn’t much better. He narrows in on me.
“Yes, Micola. Wanna step in?”
I do without saying.
He’s wearing gym shorts, but he looks clean. I need to stay focused.
“Um. I can’t reach out to Ciro with this phone. Well, I shouldn’t.” I raise it.
He smirks, rubbing his chin, he leans against his bedroom wall. Burying his hands in his shorts pockets, he says, “I know.”
“Okay, so…why did you tell me to reach out to him then?”
“I was pissed, confused, and not sure what to do. At the time, I wasn’t thinking about your phone. Later, I assumed you realized how bad of an idea it was, me telling you to call him. I was going to mention it to you, but I couldn’t get over it when you went berserk on me. Parts you said were valid, and some parts were not.” He shrugs, looking unreadable and maybe even detached.
I’m uncomfortable with this, and I don’t like that I am. I shouldn’t care how Alex feels. But I do.
¨Do you feel safe? I think the point of reaching out to Ciro is to make sure he’s not here plotting against you. Do you feel safe?”
“You know, Micola.” He chuckles. “You think this is about my safety, and it has taken you two days to bring this up. One thing’s for sure if this was about your safety, I wouldn’t sleep until you were safe.”
Is he for real? Actually, I’m not sure he’s incorrect. This truth shouldn’t bother me as much when I look at it through my old brokenhearted lenses. This guy has damaged my heart. But that was years ago. I have to move on. I am so much more than that time.
“Okay, maybe. You have a point, but I know—“
“You don’t need to reach out to your family at all, Micola. I only had to reach out to mine.¨
¨What’s that supposed to mean?¨ My heart rate picks up.
¨My family keeps their eyes on the Costas.¨
¨Okay?¨
¨Just so you know, in case you didn’t, Ciroisin town. That’s been proven, but I don’t have proof that the guy I saw was him. I do believe so, though.” He shrugs.
“Proof about Ciro?” How does he know of my brother’s whereabouts?
“Yes, he’s here, but I’m not concerned. Neither should you be.”
I don’t want to know what that means, but I do know Alex wouldn’t do anything ill-willed. My brothers, on the other hand...I have no idea.
“Why didn’t you tell me when you found out?”
“To prevent you from doing what you’re doing right now. Getting worried.” With his mouth closed, he slides his tongue from one side of his upper gums to the other.
“I’m not worried, but there’s a reason to be concerned,” I admit.
