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“Oh my God, I am so excited to see him, it has been months! When will he arrive?” I squeal in excitement, renewed energy now flowing through my body.
“Calm down, Diletto.” Alf laughs, patting my hand. “He should be here sometime in the next few days. He can’t stay long, though; he will be here for an hour or so. Otherwise, he might draw attention to the place and we don't want your Papa sniffing around here again.”
My mood goes solemn thinking about what would happen to both Alf and Sofia if papa found out they were hiding me. I prefer not to think about it because the likely outcome would be too horrific. I nod my head. I’m now deflated again; I just want to curl up in my bed and feel sorry for myself. Not something I do a lot of, but tonight, I just want to wallow in my self-pity.
“I’m going to sneak home, get some rest,” I say softly, a yawn escaping from my mouth as I stand. We make our way downstairs to the back door and I hug them both goodbye.
“Be careful, Diletto,” Alf replies as Sofia kisses my cheeks. I make my exit and silently slip through the streets under the cover of darkness to my home, thinking about Marco the entire way there.
7
Marco
After last night at the bar, the thought of Frankie is not far from my mind. The boys and I continued to dissect the warning from the old guy at the bar throughout dinner at Romeo’s. Romeo, our former Head of Security who retired years ago, joined us for a drink after dinner and he confirmed for us that Diletto was indeed a term of endearment, often used for close loved ones.
Perhaps he was her father and this was his way of protecting his little girl? I didn’t sleep much when I got home, tossing and turning. Prince obviously knew something was up because when I woke this morning, he was snuggled into my side, instead of jumping on me to get me out of bed.
Now, as I sit here in my office, I try hard to concentrate on the paperwork in front of me, but I just can’t gather my thoughts enough to make any real progress. Sighing, I rub my eyes and decide that a walk outside for some fresh air and a coffee might be just what I need. It may help me with my concentration for the afternoon because I really need to get this contract finished and filed before the end of the day.
Grabbing my suit jacket, I put it on over my crisp, white shirt which I’ve left a few buttons undone on today. While I normally wear a tie and keep my presentation at work 100% corporate, today is Friday, so I loosen my stance on my wardrobe, willing the weekend to be here.
I am undecided on whether to go back to the bar tonight in the hopes that I will see Frankie again. But the warning I received is very clear in my mind, and I don’t want to upset her father, if that is who he is. I do plan on seeing Frankie again, just preferably without him as an audience.
Stepping out of the elevator, I walk out the double glass doors and hit the sidewalk. There are a few people lingering around outside. As one of the Marshall Brothers, and as one of Boston’s wealthiest bachelors, I often find that there are press and photographers that follow me for the local gossip column. That and also the general public have been known to grab their cell from time to time just to take a snap.
For the most part, it doesn’t bother me. I take it all with a grain of salt, and usually I smile and wave, maybe even give a cheeky wink. But today, I feel different. I ache for privacy; I just want to be left alone with my thoughts.
My thoughts of Frankie.
I slip on my sunglasses and walk swiftly down the sidewalk with my head down and enter my local hole-in-the wall coffee shop, Mocha Cafe. I choose to visit this one because it is small and dark inside, meaning that people on the outside can’t get a good look in, and they usually don't follow me in because it is too small.
It is situated down a small laneway so it is out of the way, and it has a really nice neighborhood feel. The owner usually does me a solid and has one of his team members stand close to the front door, not allowing anyone to follow me directly inside. It is nice to have friends like this to count on, and I tip him handsomely each time I come here.
I say hello to the manager, Simon, and he gets busy making me my usual order. He is a young guy sporting a serious man bun, and he’s wearing his usual t-shirt, shorts, and converse sneakers. He works here while he attends college, studying art, I think.
I look up and around to take in the place, but the moment I do, my eyes land on the one person that I can’t get out of my mind. I see her before she sees me, and I take the time to really look at her.
She has her head down with her vibrant red hair flowing around her. She’s reading a book and has glasses on which give off a studious demeanor, a sexy one at that. Sitting in a quiet booth at the back corner of the shop, she’s completely unbothered by any outside noises from the city that filtered in with my entrance. Usually I sit in that spot if I am eating in, choosing it because it offers a lot of privacy from both the outsiders looking in and the people already in the shop. As if she senses someone watching her, she looks up and we immediately make eye contact.
Her lips part in surprise and the look on her face is one for my memory bank. I pull on every inch of self-control I have not to strut over to her and grab her by the neck and pull her to me. All I want is to devour her and make her mine. My cock throbs in my pants at the thought.
Keeping my eyes on her, I watch her like she is my prey as I walk over slowly, smiling but with a glint of desire in my eyes that I know that she can see. Our eyes don’t leave each other’s, as I stop mere inches in front of her, and she places her open book face-down on the table so as not to lose her page.
I am looking down at her now, and she is looking up at me, her elegant neck on full display. It’s giving me a visual of what she would look like on her knees for me, and I gulp at the image of it.
“Hey, beautiful,” I say, quietly, not wanting others to hear.
“Hey,” she responds in merely a whisper as a small smile forms on her perfect lips.
“How are you doing?” I ask, genuinely wanting to know. My eyes flick to the bandage on her hand.
“I’m okay. You?” Her replies are short as usual, but there is something in the air. I feel it, and I know she feels it too. Her intoxicating gaze tears from mine briefly, and she fiddles with the edge of her book.
“I’m better for seeing you here, that is for sure,” I say, rubbing my chin, still looking at her like she is my last meal. “I was going to come past the bar tonight to see you, will you be there?”
Her breath hitches, and she looks back up at me, a mix of longing and remorse swimming in her eyes.
“I don’t think that is a good idea...” she whispers to me, and I step closer. She has a lock of hair that has fallen across her face, and I lift my hand to brush it away, grazing her cheeks with my fingers as I do. Her skin is soft under my hand, and I don’t want to stop touching her, ever.
