Chapter Thirty-six - Apology Coffee

Chapter Thirty-six - Apology Coffee
MALIA

Utterly confused. That was the only thing on my mind at the moment. It was just a freaking cup after all. I thought it would be funny, a tease. How could I have possibly known that he would react like that?

I stared after him first, then looked at Claire, confused. Isabella sighed and gave me a look. “We told you not to take that cup”, she mumbled. 

“What is his problem? It’s a freaking cup!” Isabella and Claire shared a look I didn’t understand. “What is it?”

“To him, it’s not just a cup,” Claire started, “His mother gave him this cup when he was just a boy.”

A boy? How did they know this? Marcello didn’t seem to be the type to share childhood memories with his coworkers. But maybe he needed to explain it to them at one point so that they would be cautious with it. 

“She died. So this cup is important to him. Even if it is ‘just a cup’ to you.”

Oh shit… Now I started to understand why he was so mad about it. But why storm out instead of telling me or taking the cup away from me?

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?”

“You are the principessa,” Claire said, and that explained everything. I just rolled my eyes at the title. This was some bullshit. 

“That doesn’t mean anything to me. I’d prefer you to be honest and direct, instead of being respectful and hold back, because of a stupid title I never wanted. If I have to live here, I’d like to see you as friends. Not as … servants.”

They both looked at me with understanding, smiling and giving me a brief nod. Good. However, that would not have solved the situation I was already in. What should I do now? 

It’s not that I cared if he was pissed at me. That could be a good thing. Maybe he would stay away from me because of it. On the other side, it could make the situation worse. There had been moments when Marcello’s real character had shone through. Rough handling and threats, which could get a lot worse when he was pissed at me. 

“Any idea how to fix the situation now?” I asked with a heavy sigh, looking out the space through which Marcello had disappeared a few minutes ago. Isabella made a humming sound while thinking of something, while Claire continued to work on dinner. 

“Maybe you could clean the cup, make him a coffee, and bring it to him?” Isabella offered with a shrug. Not a bad idea. 

After finishing my tea— because why should I let the situation keep me from it —I gave the cup over to Claire. She knew how Marcello drank his coffee, so after washing the cup carefully, she put it under the portafilter espresso machine and made the coffee.

“Please, be really careful,” Claire reminded when she gave the cup over. She had treated it with more care than a raw egg, making me shake my head. I got that the cup was important to him for emotional reasons, but they acted over the top. 

“I’ll be careful,” I assured her and walked out of the kitchen, the cup in both hands. Just in case.

Only then did I realize that I had no idea where Marcello had stormed off to. I remembered that he said he usually spends his time on the rooftop garden, so I went there. He was not there. I checked his room. Nothing. 

The only other place I could think of was the office of the Capo Bastone. He had used it to make Val sign the NDA, so maybe he regularly used it. Reaching it, I heard him inside. He groaned loudly, making me pause. Should I approach him when he was that pissed? I doubted that a stupid cup of coffee could make it better. 

It was better than not trying anything, so I ended up knocking on the door lightly. I heard him move inside, mumbling, but didn’t enter. Maybe he hadn’t heard me, and I didn’t want to make him angrier by storming in. I knocked again, and a moment later, he pulled the door open and stuck his head out. 

“What?” he asked harshly, staring down at me. I got that he was angry, but he was acting weird. 

“I brought you coffee,” I said sheepishly, holding the cup slightly up. 

His gaze dropped down to the cup and back up to my eyes. For a long moment, we just stood there, staring at each other, before he opened the door a little wider and stepped out of the office, shutting the door behind him, and leaning against it. 

And then his demeanor changed. Went back to the icy cool I was getting used to. Even the smugness returned with that barely there smirk in the corner of his lips.

“That could be considered being nice,” he stated with that smugness, crossing his arms over his chest. I just glared at him. 

“Do you want the stupid coffee in the stupid mug, or not?” I asked, trying not to let my irritation rise. 

He could not have been as mad as I had thought if it was that easy for him to return to his usual asshole self. 

He leaned in, our faces too close for comfort. “Sure, I’ll take the coffee. I will enjoy it even more, knowing that your lips were on that cup.” 

“Claire washed the cup before I brought it to you, idiot.”

“Doesn’t matter. Just knowing those lips were on it,” he started, his voice smooth like silk, putting a finger on my lips. I had no idea why I let him touch me, instead of moving out of his reach. Probably, because I was still holding that stupid cup in my hands. With his gaze on my lips, he continued, “will make any drink taste so much better.”

He shouldn’t be affecting me with his behavior, with his touch. But he did, and I hated it. My heart started beating faster, and his voice sent shivers down my spine. 

“You are disgusting”, I spat out and pushed the cup in his chest. “Now take your stupid cup and leave me alone.”

His hand reached for the cup, his fingers brushing mine, making me pull away, letting go of the cup. My eyes widened when I realized that he did not have a grip on it, and the cup fell.