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I’m still pissed she snuck out on me last night, but when my cousin said she was showing her around the city today, I decided to crash. I don’t care that Papà wants to meet about my upcoming meeting with Dante. I tell him we can speak later.
I’m waiting with Vittoria in the town square at a small table in front of a café, sipping my caffè as I watch her approaching. She’s in black leather pants, a cream-colored lacy blouse, and a black jacket. The jacket has a military knockoff look to it. She’s in high fuck-me heels that are cream-colored and bring her higher up for me. I can’t wait to get between those creamy thighs. To feel those heels pressing into my back as I drill into her with my cock. She’s got dark sunglasses covering her beautiful eyes, and her long hair is pulled back in a half up half down style. She smiles at Vittoria but gives me a pinched look.
“Vittoria.” She leans in, and they kiss cheeks. She’s taller than Vittoria, but the heels put her well over my cousin’s five-foot-five height.
“Dario.” Her voice is soft but holds a hint of uncertainty to it. She’s not sure what to do, so I take the decision from her. I’ll lead her where I want her. I’ll never leave her hanging.
I pull her into my body and lay my lips on hers. She clutches at me, not sure what to do, but I keep my lips working over hers and turn my head to go deeper into her mouth when she opens up for me. Our tongues tangle and glide together. Making love like I want to do to her whole body. By the time I pull my head away, her lips are bruised, there is beard burn around her mouth on her delicate olive undertone skin, and she’s holding on to me. Her fingers laced behind my neck.
“Hello,mio angelo. You left last night before I could talk to you more.”
“I’d say you two did more than talk.” Vittoria giggles. “I ordered you a black Americano. Isn’t that what you Americans drink?” Vittoria says to Luna.
“I don’t drink it. I drink caffè too.”
“Oh, let me go get you one. I’ll let you and Rio talk.” My cousin takes off quickly, and I pull out a chair for Luna.
“Why did you leave me last night? I had plans.” I kiss her neck and notice a bandage there. “What happened?” I squat down beside her so she has my full attention and I have hers.
“I had a really bad headache.”
I notice her skin is paler than it was before, and when I lift her sunglasses to the top of her head so I can look into her hazel green eyes, I notice they are darker than normal.
“Are you feeling well?” I ask, and she leans back her head, tilting it ever so slightly as she looks at me curiously. “I notice everything about you,dolce angelo.” I move to the chair next to her and pull her closer to me. She tries to pull away, but I don’t stop until her chair is between my long legs and she’s pressed into me.
“I can sit over there,” she says, giving me sass, and I smile. I love her fire.
“I want you here. I like you close by. That way anystronzoaround knows you are mine.” I didn’t mean to lay claim to her, but now that I’ve said the words, I realize how true they are. I know she’s mine.
She looks at me, and I see emotions swirling in her eyes. She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them, they are blank and I hate it. I want her back.
“Okay, one caffè and arusumada.” Vittoria sets the drink down along with the egg mixture. Without missing a beat, Luna dumps the mixture into her caffè and slowly mixes. I look at Vittoria, and she’s got a brow raised and watching in fascination too.
“Are you sure you’ve never been to Italy,dolce angelo?” I ask her, confused.
Vittoria told me that Luna said she was travelling around Europe to finalize her education in art history after she got her master’s degree in it at Royal College of Art. She stated she’s from Washington but never has been further than England. The fact she knows the local tradition to mix the egg mixture with our morning coffee is only known by those who have grown up around here. I watch as she lifts it to her lips and takes a sip. She looks back at us with both her eyes flared wide.
“I’ve never been here?” It’s not a statement. She doesn’t know.
“Angelo, tell me about growing up. Where did you? How were your parents?” I ask her, trying to see if maybe her family is Italian. She does have the more olive complexion that is known for the Mediterranean.
“Like I told Vittoria, I grew up in Spokane, Washington. My parents died when I was studying at Royal College of Art. I have a master’s in art history. I decided as part of my studies, I would travel around and learn more. I was in Paris recently and, of course, Bucharest, and now I’m here.”
I don’t understand why she was in Bucharest, but I don’t question her more.
“How did you know to put yourrusumadain your caffè?” Vittoria asks her the million-dollar question.
Luna looks around, avoiding answering the question before she turns back to us. That blank look is back in her eyes. “I read about it.”
I can see Vittoria is about to question her, but I hold up my hand to stop her.
“Let’s go look around,” I say as she takes the last swallow.
* * *
Luna
I’m messing everything up. I screwed up breakfast. I don’t know how I knew to mix that cup of egg mixture into my coffee, but I knew. Just like I’ve never liked American coffee or an Americano. I’m tired. That’s the only excuse I have for why I’m not on my game.
