Inizio (COMPLETED)

13. Stay with me (Part 1)

The night was starting to end and people were saying their goodbyes. Jessica and Stephan had re-enacted a scene earlier from their wedding, that was pretty hilarious, for the guests.

"Jessica, my beautiful Jessica, you've been all I can think about since the day I met you-," Stephan began.

"No wonder your grades were so bad," she answered flipping her hair. The crowd giggled. Stephan pretended to look taken a back.

"Ah-bu- they weren't that bad, but that's besides the point. I've dreamt of this day and it's finally here. To think that I'll be yours forever and you will be mine makes me feel like the happiest man alive." Marco did his part too as best man.

"Boy," he fake coughed. The crowd erupted. It was pretty funny. I bet it was funnier the first time, too. As people got into their cars, the party set-up-ers started cleaning up. Mr. Fiorentino called his family over. All the guards and personal guards, except for me, went over to talk with him in the room.

Why can't I go in? What are they talking about?

Not dwelling on it too much, figuring that since I was the new one, it made sense that I wasn't allowed there. I helped the people take the trash out and found my way to the backyard.

"Wow," I mumbled. The moons reflection rested on the smooth lapping water of the pool. It was quiet and from where I was standing you could see all the lights in LA. The city seemed to bustle, but you couldn't hear anything but crickets and birds flying by. It was peaceful. I closed my eyes, only to replay the whole incident from earlier.

I didn't realize how confused I was until now. I rubbed my shoulder, massaging it a bit. Why the hell did the guy want to kill Marco? Who's Pietro Giuseppe? How did a business proposition turn into a standoff? My thoughts were interrupted by a looming figure. I knew who it was.

"You ready to go," he asked. I turned around.

"Yeah, if you are," I stuck my hand out. He looked at me, then my hand. He shook it.

"No, the keys," I said, giggling. A small smile appeared on his features. He reached into his pockets and we made our way up the stairs to the driveway.

"Oh, I forgot about your arm," he said. "You don't have to drive."

"No, it's fine. I can drive with one hand," I said as I stood before three expensive cars. My eyebrows rose. There was a black granturismo Maserati. To the right of it was a matte blue 458 Italia Ferrari, and lastly a matte black Mercedes G-Wagon.

"Huh," I said to myself. These people are filthy rich. I got into the Maserati and Marco followed suit. I started up the car, then realized I didn't know where he lived.

"Are you just gonna tell me as we go or gps it?"

"Hmmm... I'll tell you." I nodded and backed out.

****

We'd been driving for about half an hour, the whole time in silence. He seemed to be deep in thought and I didn't want to interrupt. I got to a red light and stopped. I hadn't noticed my heart was beating a bit faster until I felt his eyes on me.

"Mr, Fiorentino," I asked, still staring at the light.

"That's my dad. I'm Marco," he said lightly, and I directed my attention towards him.

"Marco," I stopped. It sounded so foreign outloud.

Imagine moaning it-

I cleared my throat. "What happened? I mean I know what happened but why'd it happen? Who's Pietro Giuseppe? Why did-,"

"You're asking too many questions, Ms. Embin. Questions that I can't answer. Not for you anyways," he said staley. I hadn't noticed the light turned green until I heard obnoxious honking coming from behind me.

"Oh shut up," I mumbled as I drove. We got to his house at around 1 a.m. His house was massive. It was a Spanish style home with gorgeous plants and flowers lining it. His double doors had stained glass and a chandelier hung at the outside entrance.

He noticed me staring in awe and chuckled. "You like it," he asked. I looked at the rose vines that grew gracefully along the ceiling.

"It's beautiful." I looked away from them and up at him. He was unlocking the door. Then, I remembered something.

"Oh, fuck me," I said face palming. I heard Marco drop his keys. He didn't budge, so I picked them up.

"I didn't even think this through. How am I gonna get hom-," his eyes bore into me, darker than ever. My heart temporarily stopped.

"You're staying here," he said.

"What? No, no it's fine I can get a cab it's not that bad. I'll think twice next time," I said, awkwardly smiling.

"I'm not offering. I'm telling you." He said. His deep, demanding voice caused my püssy to clench.

Shit

"You have to stay at my house, as part of being my personal guard. You have to be where I am." He reminded me.

"Oh, yeah. Um... I didn't bring... any of my stuff." He opened the door and walked in. I followed.

"We can get it tomorrow on my way to work." The huge chandelier that looked like it was made from real diamonds lit up the entire room. Two large, curved staircases wrapped around on both walls. There was a small dresser-like table against the wall. Marco dropped his keys in the small artsy bowl on top of it and rubbed his face with both hands.

"Did you want something to drink? Or eat? I think Rosie made some fettuccine with roasted chicken or something," he said as he made his way to the kitchen. As we walked, I saw intricate paintings hanging on the walls, each ranging in different sizes. Two large arches led way to a large kitchen with creamy white walls. The counters were a brownish marble and the drawers were a tinted white. The appliances were sleek black.

Marco unbottoned his suit, distracting me. I watched as he lay it across one of the island stools and he rolled up his crisp, white sleeves. I had taken a seat on one of the stools and bit my lip at the action. He opened the large fridge and I could see an assortment of fruits and vegetable all labeled and organized. In the middle was bowl with clear wrap over it.

"Did Rosie cook that," I asked curiously. He nodded from his position, trying to choose a meal.

"Yeah. I already ate most of the meals she's made and she's not back for another month."

"What happened?"

"Her pregnant daughter's getting married in the Bahamas or something and she's gonna give birth  a month after, I thi- what the fuck?!" I tried to peer over his shoulder from my seat, but saw nothing. He turned around with a bowl of some sort of spinach mixture. It looked moldy and smelled it too.

I plugged my nose and laughed.

"Did Rosie perhaps give you an order in which to eat some stuff," I asked. He scrunched his face up at the smell, lightly tossed the bowl on the counter, and put his hands in his pockets.

"She did actually. I thought she was just trying to be bossy." I tried hold back a laugh when I heard his stomach growl, but I failed.He gave me a playful glare.

"Um.. I can cook something,"I offered. "I'm not exactly Chef Picasso, but.."

"Okay. I can hel-," his phone interrupted. He looked at the caller Id. "It's my dad, excuse me," he said. His straight face came on and he walked out the kitchen. I got up from my seat and headed towards he fridge.

"Bell peppers, garlic, lemons, green beans, olives.." I mumbled to myself as I read the labels. I closed the fridge and looked in the pantry.

"Well shît." It was stocked from top to bottom with enough food to last three winters. I took two fettuccine boxes and set them on the counter. I grabbed a huge onion and started peeling it. I noticed he had some grape leaves and found good use of it.