This Means War

3| The Italian God

The Italian beauty smiled; noting my prompt return, she pointed to the gelato. "Ciao, again."  I spoke past the bubbling laughter cramping my diaphragm.

"Another?" She asked. I shook my head, no. I was thoroughly sure that Nathaniel had, had enough gelato for one day. Replenishing the oxygen I'd lost, I asked her for more serviettes, explaining in great detail what had happened to the gentleman cursing outside. She laughed for several minutes, even as she was handing me a bunch of serviettes.

"Also...is there a washroom we could use.. um, il bagnò?" Choking out my final question, I burst into a fit of laughter— encouraging her amusement. Casting a look over my shoulder I caught Nathaniel glaring in my direction, a silent challenge darkening his frosty gaze. The intimidating look carried a promise I was sure he'd come through on. Managing to catch her breath, the young woman gestured to the right of the cafe— towards two separate doors. "Grazie mille." Chuckling she nodded.

Walking back to the seething brute, I handed him half of the serviettes before clasping his arms. "What the fuck will a few serviettes do?" He growled, rage simmering beneath the surface of his words.

Sighing, I yanked on his arms a little rougher. "Just stand up and turn around." I ordered.

Clenching his jaw, he glowered up at me. "No fucking way. You'll probably stick that shit to me-"

Cutting short, what was sure to be a long winded bitch-fit, I played his little game.  "Fine, sit here forever then...or at least until they close, because they will eventually close." Narrowing his eyes dangerously, he stood slowly, giving passers the death glare. Turning he looked over his shoulder. Plastering the remaining serviettes across his arse I pressed my body against his.

"Fuck-what are you doing?" He snapped, his husky voice a mixture of anger and arousal?

Flushing, I bit my lower lip. "Just walk." I mumbled, pushing him forward gently. Urging him to enter the cafe, I remained plastered against his back.

"No-" He stood firm, "-absolutely not! We aren't going back in there. Not after you just told her and everyone else around you." He fought me, stubbornly.

Rolling my eyes, I sighed. "Nathaniel, there's a bathroom in there." I explained, gently— with patience reserved only for small children prone to tamper tantrums. Cursing, he reluctantly began to move. Unable to predict his pace, I failed to meet his first stride and fumbled to adjust the serviettes back in place.

Grabbing my arm roughly he wrapped it around his lean torso. "Hurry the fuck up." He snapped. We shuffled into the cafe and I instructed him towards the bathroom. By this point he was shades of red the colour wheel was yet to discover— in both anger and embarrassment. Most if not all of the patrons openly laughed and blatantly stared. Pausing in front of the doors he tightened his grip on my forearm. "What now? I can't go in there and you can't come in here." He pointed out, appearing genuinely torn with the decision.

Chuckling softly, I cleared my throat. "Did you need me to hold your hand or something-" releasing me with a jolt he flipped to face me.

"You'll pay for this Williams." He growled before slipping into the washroom. Stepping into the female bathroom I cleaned the gelato off my chest and hands. Within a few short minutes, I was leaning against the wall outside waiting on Nathaniel. Fifteen minutes later, the brooding man graced me with his presence. Noticing he'd strategically tied his jacket around his waist, I painfully stiffened a laugh.

"It...looks brilliant..." Pressing my palm over my mouth, I struggled to speak. Failing to hide my amusement, I burst into a fit of laughter. Fisting his hands, he took an intimidating step towards me. Silencing abruptly, at the sight of his chest heaving with suppressed rage, I gulped audibly. Saving me from what was undoubtedly my end, an elderly woman approached us. Gently clasping both my and Nathaniel's wrists, she smiled warmly.