𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 ( 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐎𝐧𝐞)

𝗧𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲- 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗜𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗶𝗲𝘄

               𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌 𝗆𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌.
      -𝗌𝗂𝗑 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 (𝖻𝗒 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌)

                                   𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐚

"I was wrong," I said again. Lia's eyes brazed at me; anger and regret filled me at how I left that day six years ago. Yes, I was wrong, not for leaving, but for how I did it. How could I tell her the truth without making her feel guilty?

Getting off the bed, we stood on the opposite side of each other, Lia heaving from rage, her black orbs showing her emotions more than words ever could.

"I do not want to have this conversation now," she told me with resignation, walking to the door to open it for me. I had been dismissed; I couldn't push her, I respected her too much. Also, three in the morning wasn't the ideal time to talk about this. 

When we talk about it, and I swore we would, I will ensure it was just the two of us.

As I left, I stood near her at the door, wanting to lean in to kiss her, but she shot daggers at me, daring me to try it. I didn't; I knew how lethal she could be when displeased.

************************************
"Shit. Here we go!"

I muttered under my breath when Matteo and I entered the motor Racing magazine offices. I smiled and waved at the people gawking  at me with fascination as if I couldn't be real. Glancing at the clock on the wall atop the aisle to find it had been three minutes since we started coming up the stairs to the offices. 

Time sure went at a snail pace when you want it to sprint like Usain Bolt, I secretly thought, making sure my smile stayed in place. People would be surprised and disappointed in equal measure if they knew how much I loathed interviews.

"Glad you're feeling better," a short brunette in a pixie cut shouted. I smiled at her, and she blushed, nervously putting her arms across her chest. I could have said more if I hadn't heard someone call my name.

"This way, Mr. Bianchi." a skinny guy told me, standing a few feet from me while pointing to the left.

"My name is Josh; Miss Jensen sent me to show you in." He had a baritone voice that did not match his frame. He was in tucked blue and red striped shirt; his baggy blue pants swooshed when he walked. I took his stretched-out hand in mine. He had a firm shake—one of those that felt not only professional but also sent a message that I'm not intimidated, which likely he was.

When we reached a wooden brown-painted door, Josh stood, then moved aside and opened the door to let me in. I said thank you, mumbling niceties about how good it was meeting him as it was conventionally required.

One of the promises I made to my father when I left home was that I would always have Matteo beside me; unfortunately for some people, I had kept my word; this interview wasn't any different; Matteo entered the room with me. I could tell miss Jensen didn't like it

"Mr. Bianchi," she said, holding out her hand. She was a beautiful blond woman with long acrylic nails and subtle purple lipstick that made her lips fuller.

"Call me Luca; Mr. Bianchi is my father, " I told her; she seemed to like the invitation because she relaxed a little bit. I'm almost always amused when someone addresses me as such. It made me feel like an adult with responsibilities instead of a twenty-year-old at the height of his career.

We stood side by side with my hand still in hers. She did not seem to realize it until I cleared my throat and proceeded to introduce Matteo.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," she exclaimed, suddenly dropping my hand, her face turning crimson with embarrassment.