Sinful Infatuation

Sinful Infatuation: Chapter 4

AN: Any Italian you see is not me. It is the translator I used. If it is drastically off, I apologize. Send me a message and I'll try to fix it.

Also, I tried to make this chapter a long one, so enjoy :) 

April 9

Unknown Warehouse

Long Island, NY

12:00 p.m.

“Jourdain, what time are you coming home?” Maxwell asked. Jourdain bit her lip and looked up at the unlabeled warehouse that Matteo had pulled up next to nearly thirty minutes ago. He parked hastily near the sketchy building, ordering her to stay in the car. Jourdain decided to call her fiancé while she waited, and the half an hour-long conversation was clearly going nowhere. “I told you, babe. I’ll be there soon,” she repeated for the third time. “I keep asking because you’re not giving me the response I need. You were supposed to be home nearly twelve hours ago. I know you work late nights at the bar, but if this is your boss’ idea of overtime then I am a little alarmed,” Maxwell said snidely. Jourdain cringed. “I told you, I had a late night at the bar. I decided to crash at Alicia’s. As soon as I’m ready, I’ll make my way back over to the apartment.” Before calling Maxwell, she had exchanged several mildly threatening text messages with Alicia, telling her to cover for her with Maxwell or else. Alicia, having seen Jourdain leave the club with the “sexy Italian” readily agreed since she wasn’t the biggest fan of Maxwell anyway. When Jourdain asked her why she didn’t stop her from leaving the lounge with Matteo, Alicia just responded with a vague emoji.

“When I called Alicia last night she said she hadn’t seen you,” he replied. “She was covering for me.” “Covering you for what?” Maxwell had asked the million-dollar question. It was a question that Jourdain could not answer truthfully. Jourdain still couldn’t remember what happened last night after she left the bar. Every time she tried to think about it she only came up with vague, hazy memories of a black limo and falling into a plush bed. It didn’t assuage her guilt when Matteo claimed they had sex. And judging by how intoxicated she was last night, and how attractive she found Matteo when she was merely sober, sex was definitely probably a part of the equation--- the toxic, nonsensical, destructive equation that was Matteo plus Jourdain. She found it hard to believe that she was so compellingly drawn to someone who she hadn’t even kissed. Well, at least she didn’t think they did. The closest she could remember him coming to her lips was so he could stuff food through them. She began to think about what it would be like to kiss him. Was he a soft, gentle kisser that delivered little teasing pecks before the big finale? Or was he a demanding kisser, who kissed with an artful passion. She was willing to bet the latter. And what if he put those talented lips somewhere else? She shivered as she imagined his trimmed black beard tickling the sensitive skin on the inside of her thighs as he…“Jourdain? Jourdain?” Jourdain shook her head as if coming out of a trance. Had she really been thinking of kissing another man while on the phone with her fiancé? She bit the inside of her cheek as another bout of guilt washed over her. “Yeah, I’m here,” she said distractedly as she looked up at the warehouse once again, seeing a familiar man walk inside.

Lorenzo.

“Listen, let me call you when I’m ten minutes away from the apartment okay,” Jourdain said, her hand reaching for the door handle. “What? Jourdain, no--” “I promise I’ll make it up to you, I’ll cook you breakfast,” she muttered as she stepped out the car. “Its noon time. Listen, you need to come home n--” Maxwell started. “Bye!” she exclaimed, hanging up. She’ll just have to deal with that later.