Borgata - Book II #wattys2016

Chapter 6: Power Lines

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 I opened my bedroom door, right as Fico's hand was reaching for the doorknob. His eyes wondered over my makeup job, my breasts, my dress, down my legs and back up, leaving a trail of fire in their path.

That's right, eat it up, bîtch. You're not getting any of this.

"You hid the bump on your forehead with your hair. Good." Fico pivoted and started to stalk down the hallway. Confused at his dismissive retreat, I stood there and stared at his back as he continued down the hallway. I snapped out of it and followed him. I had to add a little perk in my step to keep up with his long and powerful strides.

Without any conversation, we descended down the grand staircase to the first floor, went through the foyer, and passed the indoor pool. Fico limped heavily on his leg. He looked too deep in thought, for the "no-talking-thing" to be awkward. Whatever he was thinking about, it must have been important. I was starting to wonder what the hell went on in that psycho head of his.

Fico pulled open a door for me and gestured for me to go inside. But before I could walk in, he stopped me with his arm. "Manners, cucciola."

"He says, as right before he calls me a dog."

"Puppy," Fico clarified and crossed his strong arms over his chest. "It means puppy. It's not an insult, it's an endearment."

I fluttered my eyelashes. "I'd rather you just call me gorgeous. Get's to the point."

"You're an arrogant little thing."

"Not so much arrogant, as I am perceptive, especially a few seconds ago. Now, are you going to let me walk past? I want to get this event over with."

He glared down at me, probably because of my manners, or maybe because he was just a moody son of a bîtch.

"I want to know what you just analyzed about me," he demanded.

"If you insist." I crossed my arms over my chest and decided to continue playing along with his game of control. "You never said I wasn't gorgeous, which means that you think I'm gorgeous. The fact that you didn't directly say it, could demonstrate that you're afraid of me rejecting said compliment, even though you know I'm attracted to you. Therefore, deep down–way deep down and beyond your tough guy act–you could be sensitive, a little shy, and perhaps even self-conscious. Overall, if this theory is correct, you're afraid of a woman rejecting you. And that's because you're stuck in an intricate, most likely emotionless, sexual agreement with someone, and have obvious intimate, controlling, and emotional issues that will only worsen if you continue said relationship. But maybe I'm just overanalyzing. I'm a whøre, after all."

Quickly, before Fico possibly killed me, I ducked under his arm, limbo-style, and slid into the massive sunroom before me. It was beautiful outside; so lots of natural light streamed in and made the entire spacious area looks kissed by light. There were vibrant green plants and flowers scattered around the windows, and a large wooden table with some grapes, cheese, and wine.

There were two other women in the room when we walked in. One had brown hair and was watering a plant. She wore a tight crop top and high waisted shorts. She turned over her shoulder as we walked in. The other woman was setting napkins on the table and wore a crop top as well with a plunging neckline, and a short skirt. She was a little older than I was and had black hair. She looked up as we walked in, as well. When she noticed Fico, she went into predator mode and smiled at him.