ARIEL
The dinner party took place at the Anantara Palazzo's nicest banquet. There were Executives from all over Italy here to attend and my Parents were also here. I was beyond surprised to see my mom here.
My dad came to Rome every year for the party and stayed a week. But mom never ever tagged along. She didn't particularly like dad's family or they her. But it was nice to see that it didn't affect mine or dad's relationship with them.
"You look stunning, as always." A smooth voice broke me out of my stupor, as I stood at the bar after dinner. I turned to find Stefan, with a glass of champagne in his hand, a blue suit adorning his modest build.
"Stefan." I curtly address him. I have zero patience for cowards. I don't know or care what Griffin said or did, but he blatantly ran off, leaving me there and saying I wasn't even his date. It was humiliating, even though I felt like throwing something at him everytime he touched me. It was the principle of the matter.
I wasn't having exactly loving our date either but he didn't see me run off with no excuse.
"About the other night.." He winces when I laugh facetiously. "Ariel, I really didn't mean to offend you, but I had no idea you were on first name basis with Griffin Moretti." he widens his eyes, as if to say how big of a deal that was.
"What does that have anything to do with this?" I inquire.
"Well he's not exactly a man I would like to disagree with. I don't want to be in his books at all, let alone his bad ones. I am sorry, I really thought this could be something, but the way he said your name, in that possessive tone-"
"Ariel." As if to mock me, Griffin appears infront of us. The same tone Stefan just described can be heard in his voice. I roll my eyes when Stefan stiffens and mumbles an excuse before scurrying off.
"Stop doing that." My tone is annoyed when I pin the larger man with a glare. He stares back with a cool expression, but his eyes are alive with green fire.
I roll my eyes and walk away to the exit, feeling his large body following behind me. I turn around in a secluded hallway at the sound of his next words.
"Then stop letting me find you stood that close to him." his voice is dark, deep with danger sharpening it's edge.
"You don't scare me." I frown.
"That is not my goal." his voice softens a smidge, face still the mask of indifference.
"Then what is your goal? And why is Stefan so afraid of you? Why is everyone?" I huff. "I certainly am not afraid." I mumble.
"Questo perchè ti ho lasciato fare cose per le quali altri pagherebbero con le loro membra, piccola tempesta." his silky voice softens even more, and if I understood even a single word of Italian I was afraid his words would translate to something visceral and deep. I didn't understand what he was saying, but I felt the emotion it veiled.
(That is because I let you do things other people would pay for with their limbs, little storm.)
"What does that word mean? You say it alot when you're around me." I inquire after a beat of stunned silence.
"Which word."
"Tempesta." I say the word that sound so pretty from his mouth in an unbearable american accent. It didn't sound as adoring when I said it.
"It means Storm." He smirks. My heart beat stops then palpates at the sight. His mouth tilted up on one side makes him look younger. The boyish gleam in his eyes adds to his already flooring charm.
Then his words register.
"I thought I told you to stop calling me that." I squint, trying to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.
"Sí, but I never agreed." he drawls casually.
"Is that why you kept saying it in Italian so I wouldn't understand?" I couldn't help my lips from tilting upaward. His eyes dance with amusement. "Why did you even give me that nickname." I ask finally, a question that first appeared at the time of our first meeting.
"Your eyes." He states simply, as if that would explain everything.
"Because they're gray?" I ask. That was anticlimactic.
"No, because they're so deeply gray that one could loose themselves in them, like in a storm. There are specks of sliver that sparkle when the light hits them, like angry raindrops. They're bug enough to drown in. And you smell like rain and flowers. One specific flower. I can't tell you which one. But somehow you're the comfort of rainy solice in a person." His voice gets breathier towards the end, the words glide through me, dousing my veins in rich honey. Not so anticlimactic then.
I feel the embarrassing sting behind my eyes which makes me blink in indignation for my lack of self control.
I can't remember anyone ever talking about me like that. Describing parts of me I never noticed. No one ever noticed these things. And yet he had so easily put it into such lovely words.
All I could do was stare at him, stunned to silence as his eyes searched mine.
"Why did you say yes to go on a date with him." The question came out of nowhere, a demanding look on his face replacing the thoughtful on from before. I frown.
"What? That's-" I pause. Shit. Im suddenly very uncomfortable.
"Why." He walks closer, but I don't step away. Not this time.
"Because he asked me, and I didn't see a good enough reason to say no." I come up with.
"No? What about when you kissed me two days prior. That wasn't a reason?"
I gape at him.
I am not a confrontational person and I am wildly uneasy right now.
"I- You kissed me. And you said it was a mistake." I hold eye contact.
"No, you did."
"The second time. You said it first and I just said what you would say because I wanted to keep some of my respect." I huff.
"That is not what I was going to say. You left before I could," he pauses.
"Before you could what?" I ask. He just stares at me. "It's ok, I didn't expect it to be anything more than a mistake." I laugh.
"What is that supposed to mean." His voice becomes defensive.
"Simply that I knew what we did was a mistake for you. And it's not like we would both miss it, I mean it was good but it wasn't that good. It was replaceable, you know? Was it tangibly hot? Yes. But it wasn't groundbreaking, it took my breath away but I wasn't dying or anything." I suck in a breath when a low growl emits from him.
"I do not fucking care if it was a mistake." His voice is low, dangerous. "Do not let me see you with him or any other piece of shit." He threatens.
"Threats don't work on me, Griffin. I prefer gentlemen who ask for permission, ask me out. Not the likes of you who kisses me when he pleases, and storms off after." I smile condescendingly.
"You were the one who ran off, tempesta. Both times. Believe me, when I start something, I do it with the full intention of a climax." His mouth curls in a malicious smirk, his words' double intent clear and it makes my stomach pool with heat.
Oh.
