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I pick up the phone from among my piles of clothing to get in the Facetime picture.
¨Do you realize how stupid you sound?¨
He chuckles, ¨Micola, really?¨
¨Yes, really. Like, come on. All you and Ciro do is spend your lives bullying others because you feel so inclined to live the toxic life of brotherhood, the mafia, the mob, or whatever the hell that diseased secret family society gang is. So lame. It’s 2023, and you’re acting like it’s really your business where your sister gets her funding from. Take a moment and think about it.¨
¨I don’t care who does as long as it’s not the Matanis. Why is that so hard for you to understand?¨ He tosses back.
¨Because having any relationship with any Matani in any shape, way, or form will not bring our father back. I honestly think Dad would be much happier if he knew his kids got along than if I take any money from a man who happens to be born a Matani, got his money from art, and has no relation with that problematic family.¨
¨Dad despised the Matanis! Hated their guts and wasn’t happy at all about you sleeping with one.¨
¨Oh, fuck off.”
I hang up, tossing the phone across my bed with bitter anger. I hate this feeling. No way should my joy be so easily stolen, especially from my own brother. My face is red. I touch it with the back of my hand, which is so much cooler than the rest of my flesh.
I toss the remaining piles of clothing into my suitcase and take a glance at the afternoon time. I’m catching a red eye to Acapulco, and only my mother, Stella, and Teresa know my plans. A part of me wants to tell Alexander, but I’m holding back to save my heart. There’s so much I have to paint out of me by the sea that if I try to act too fast about my feelings, they won’t do me justice. I have to feel them first before I can place them or clear them.
Plus, whenever I think of Alexander, it’s as if he pops right up. The way he took me in the back of my studio will forever be imprinted in my mind. His grunts still burn in my ear, as do his angry and passionate words, a wild twist of lust and frustration. But, hands down, it was the way he stroked his cock inside of me, dear god. It was almost as if I demanded him to give me his best. And, boy, did he deliver.
I’m setting myself up for daytime sensual chills, thinking of him. I look through my sex toys and pack self-pleasuring delights for my trip. If I happen to have a one-night stand out there, let it be. But, the only thing I plan on doing is thriving off the mere memory of Alexander’s magic mouth and cock. I don’t need any real distractions while I’m down there. No, I need time to create, to simply be me, an artist without any deals or negotiations or teaching, just me being me for the time being.
Chapter 20
Alexander
IspotTeresa,Micola’sassistant, through the studio’s window. As soon as she sees me peering in, she gives me a pair of surprised eyes before she has enough courage to greet me at the door.
“Hey! Mr. Masters!” She gives me a rather charming smile.
“Hi, Teresa.”
“Thank you so so so much for your handsome donation. You have no idea how much that means to us and the kids.”
“My pleasure, absolutely. Truth is, I need to be putting my money in the right places, and that definitely means more art studios.”
“Sounds right to me too.” She agrees before asking the inevitable, “So, what can I do for you?”
I take a quick glance around at the walls. I even peek behind her shoulder to get a good glimpse of the space where I made a sweet sexy memory with Micola.
“I’ve been trying to reach Micola. Can’t seem to get through to her. Any idea how I can reach her?”
Teresa gives me an unreadable face.
“Well, she’s out of town.”
“Really? Any idea when she’s returning?”
She scratches her head as if programmed. I wonder where she is, but something tells me that either Teresa doesn’t know or doesn’t want to tell me.
“How about you try reaching her on WhatsApp? She should respond.”
I can’t act any quicker as I retrieve my phone and open the app. If this is the best way to reach Micola, then I know she’s out of the country. The haunting thought of her returning to our homeland and finding a Sicilian stallion digs at my heart. Maybe I’m afraid of the sting of karma, knowing if she chooses to ditch the idea of us, I have absolutely no right to be upset with her.
Hey Micola. This is Alex. Checking in on you. Miss you. Hope you are doing well. Let me know when you’re free to chat?
I close the app because there’s no need to stalk if she’s read it or not. More than likely, I’ll glimpse to see if she has by the time I hop back in my car.
