40

ARIA

"Kind of but-"

"Bellissima. Are you hungry? Yes, or no?" he deadpanned, giving me a look that said he needed a proper answer.

I thought he just wanted to check if I was okay.

I took a second to respond. "Yes."

He grinned, satisfied with my answer. "See how easy that was. That's all you had to say. Is pizza fine or do you feel for something else?"

"Pizza is fine," I mumbled, annoyed that he made it so easy for me to soften up towards him. Sandro was generous – a bit too generous but it worked and I caught myself chuckling when he chuckled too. He murmured something to himself, in his own language and I narrowed my eyes at him but decided to let it go.

'They're dangerous but they're also really...' I thought about what Tammy said. But what? Hot? Yes. Appealing? Yes. Bothersome? Yes.

I took a deep breath in, pursing my lips as Sandro pulled his phone out from his back pocket. What do I do? Ask him to sit down with me? Just as I opened my mouth to speak, he was making himself comfortable on the couch. He sat down, slumping into the seat while keeping his focus on the screen.

I almost laughed to myself – of course he would go ahead and make himself at home.

I sat alongside him, keeping myself busy by folding the blanket I had messed up. There was silence between us, and it stretched long enough for it to become an unexpected cosiness. Again, it was interrupted by him leaning forward and setting his phone on the glass table.

"Sorry about that." He turned to me, and his t-shirt strained against his muscles when he moved. I had to physically restrain myself from looking somewhere that I shouldn't. "It'll be about fifteen minutes."

Don't look at his tattoos. Don't look.

"That's fast. Usually I wait 45 minutes," I said, ignoring the urge to glance over the ink on his skin. I was always a curious person, and when something that interesting stood right before me, it was hard to ignore the curiosity.

God, I really wanna fucking look.

He raised his arm, resting it on the backrest of the couch. Holy shit.

I blamed the way I felt on my period.

Yes, definitely my period.

As if reading my mind, Sandro spoke. "Do you still have pain? Or is it getting any better?"

"Pain?" I repeated, surprised by how casually he asked that.

"Yes. You said you were on your period. Do you still have pain?" He said that so easily, without flinching. The men I had encountered grimaced at the thought of someone bleeding out of their vagina, but Sandro didn't seem bothered by it. He had the same reaction the first time I told him, and I realised that he truly didn't give a fuck.

"Right. No, I don't. I'm on my last day, I think," I said, shifting my body to face him. I was getting more comfortable by the second.

"Oh, that's good." Good? What exactly did he mean by that?

He smiled, but it was mischievous. "Don't look at me like that."

"I wasn't looking at you in any way," I argued but he saw right through me. He nodded his head, but still appeared unconvinced.

"Sandro," I drawled, furrowing my brows at him. I had taken it upon myself to call him by the shortened version of his name, and the second it fell off my lips, I saw the shift in his eyes. He was quick to conceal it, but I wasn't blind and I caught it immediately.

Oh.

"Sandro?" I said, again. Just to test the waters. I wanted a confirmation to my suspicions. And I got it when he moved his gaze somewhere else and his breathing seemed to pick up the pace. I inwardly smirked, realising that it might not have been as difficult to gain the upper hand.

"Yes?" he asked, but something random in my living room had all his attention.

I scooted closer to him. "Can I ask you something?"

I had a lot of questions, so I saw the opportunity and grabbed it immediately.

"Of course," he said, giving up on scrutinising my apartment and returned his stare to mine. "I am in your home, after all."

"Yes, you are. I've been meaning to ask," I murmured, stopping myself from inching closer to him. I was already close enough and any closer would diminish all self-restraint. His eyes dropped down to my lap, and it lasted a second longer than what was considered normal.

He was looking at my thighs that I had forgotten were bare.

"I'm listening..." he trailed off, and I saw him visibly gulp. Again, I had to control the smile threatening to form.

"You're in my apartment. Is it because you're watching me? Making sure I won't run off to the cops?" I asked softly, tilting my head to the side to witness his reaction.

"Yes, because I want to make sure everyone that has ever seen me on the verge of killing someone is okay and fed," his tone was laced with sarcasm, paired with a slight roll of his eyes. I cocked my brow at him.

On the verge of killing someone.

My lips tightened, as I recalled the events of that night.

"If you wanted to go to the police, you would've done that by now. Don't you think?" he asked, and the arm hanging lazily moved the tiniest bit. He cupped my jaw, stroking the skin with his thumb. The green in his eyes were lighter during the day, I noted. He held me delicately, but nothing about how I felt on the inside was delicate. I had a whole horse stampede in my chest.

I had to clear my throat before speaking. "Yes, but the thought didn't even cross my mind. There would be nothing to say, anyway."

"I know, bellissima," he murmured, right before he let go and dropped his arm back to its prior position. "So, no. I'm not here because I think you're a snitch."

I nodded, not even know what to say to that.

The food is taking forever.

But thankfully, his phone rang and it was the interruption I didn't know I needed. Sandro excused himself, right before getting up and answering the call in my kitchen. I heard a buzzing, and it took me a moment to realise that it was my phone too.

The caller ID read Gertrude, and even though I didn't feel like talking to anyone, I accepted the call and held the phone to my ear.

"Aria, sweetheart. Are you okay?" her warm voice travelled through the speaker, and I felt my entire face soften.

"Yes, I'm fine. You have nothing to worry about," I tried to reassure her but her gasp was loud and dramatic.

"Nothing to worry about? When I find out who hurt you, I'm going to ring his neck." She sounded angry but I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Are you coming back?" she asked, still sounding beyond worried.

Am I?

"I don't know," I said truthfully. Gertrude was my sanity at that place, and she would be the sole reason why I would stay.

"Aria, I called to check up on you but I also called to say that I'm not going back," she said. "My retirement fund is finally in and I can say goodbye to that shit job." Gertrude murmured, and I felt my shoulders sag in relief. She had been waiting for ages, and I was happy that she could finally rest.

"That's the best news," I grinned, eyeing Sandro as he spoke on his own phone. But he was frowning, and it wasn't directed at me. I took the time to marvel at his frame, taking advantage of the fact that he wasn't looking anywhere near me.

Sandro was hot.

So fucking fine that it hurt.

My eyes wandered down his abdomen, stopping at his covered mid-section. The grey sweats he had on left little to the imagination.

I looked away before I got too ahead of myself.

"Yes, I'm sorry-"

"No, don't apologise. I'm happy for you and you just made my decision to leave a lot easier," I confessed, accepting the fact that it was time to look for another job. Somewhere closer, and perhaps...safer.

I didn't even care about the fact that we were leaving the diner with no waitresses. The thought didn't even cross my mind. Fuck them.

"I did? That's great, sweetheart. I wish you the best. I have to go, my grandbaby needs me."

I chuckled. "Thank you. I'll call you in a few days."

"You better. Bye," she said softly, right before disconnecting the call. The smile was still on my face as I locked my phone and set it back down. When I turned to Sandro, he was already facing me. This time, his frown had deepened but he was no longer speaking to whoever he was previously speaking to.

"Something came up. I have to leave" he said, pinching his brows together. I could instantly tell that his mood had changed – but I couldn't tell if it was the call that bothered him, or the fact that he had to go. Either way, he didn't seem too happy.

"Oh," I scowled.

First I was yelling at him to go away and now I'm disappointed he's leaving.

What's wrong with me?

Then, he bit his lip, seemingly in contemplation before he decided against whatever he was thinking. Without saying anything else, Sandro was making his way to my front door and leaving.

The door closed behind him, but it wasn't even a second later when it opened again and Sandro was walking back to me.