The Under Boss's Ballerina [18+]

23

Reaching to the knob under the bedside table and turn the lights to bright.

"Hey." I whisper, my voice coarse from the sleep as I sit up watching him close the door behind him.

"Hey." The man gives me a lopsided smile, still sporting the ash blue two piece suit with a white shirt, that wore when he left in the morning.

I realise he smells overly sweet and and highly of smoked cannabis.

Pungent and mixed with his cologne.

Striding to my half laying form on the bed, supported by my elbow, Angelo places a kiss on my lips.

He tastes of whiskey and cannabis almost bitter.

"How were you today?" He asks against my lips.

"Good." I smile. "How was your day?"

"Good." He replies placing another kiss on my mouth.

Blinking the sleep away from my eyes, I smile at him.

"I could kill for some food." Angelo sighs straightening himself.

"Pizza?" I ask getting down from bed, feet slipping into the house sandals grabbing the silk robe that came with burgundy chemise.

"Sure." He says. "Let me- let me just shower, I'll join you in the kitchen-"

"I'll bring your plate up." I say grinning and pecking his lips before walking out of the room.

I put two big slices of the olive, sausage and mozzarella pizza with basil that was for dinner, on a plate and put it in the oven, wait for it to ping ready.

Two and a half minute later the yellow light of the oven turns off, using the oven mitts I pull out the plate and put it on a wooden tray add a glass of water and a piece of semifreddo on a desert plate before carrying it up to the bedroom.

Placing the tray on the small table chair setting by the floor to ceiling window, I pick up the cloths that Angelo discarded on the floor.

I wish I didn't though.

His shirt doesn't smell like it does normally.

Like his cologne and the mixture of marijuana. The occasional pungent smell of treasurer cigarette.

There is a strong yet sweet smell lingering along with his.

With a strawberry undertone.

Awfully sweet.

Ignoring the extensively harsh sweet scent, I turn the shirt right way out to put it in the washer when I see it.

A red mark.

Just below the collar, over the right breast.

Sighing I bend to pick up the pants and the briefs, the shirt placed on top of the pile as I walk into the bathroom to put them on the wash basket.

With half a mind to set the shirt on fire.

Is this why he wasn't here before dinner? I think, tracing my finger over the red lipstick mark on the shirt.

Did this made him late?

While I waited for him?

Angelo steps out of the shower, but he halts when he realises me standing by the wash sink.

"Ariel?" His voice soft.

Softer then it has ever been.

I turn to see his face, a towel wrapped around his waist, the other over his shoulder.