CHAPTER 17.3

C H A P T E R - S E V E N T E E N

I marched to the fridge, angry, and launched into a full-fledged diatribe. "You know, I'd rather be firebombed once more. No! " I corrected myself as I wrenched open the refrigerator door and went for the cookie dough. "It was a drive-by. I'd rather suffer through another drive by than go through it once again." I slammed the fridge door shut and marched up to a butcher block of knives, plucking one out at random. I slid a cutting board from the racks and put it down the the horseshoe counter next to where Melinda was standing. "And you should know that I don't blame you, Melinda." "Isabelle is Isabelle, we're all family, we all understand," I said, twirling my knife in the air. "It's not like we didn't expect this to happen." I slapped the cookie dough down on the cutting board and began to slice into it when strong fingers wrapped around my wrist and a firm body crushed against my side.

I raised my eyes to Falcone.

"Give up with the cookie dough, darling," he said quietly.

"No way, Falcone, it's cookie dough all around," I said, ripping my wrist from his grip and circling my knife in the air once more.

His lips were squeezed together. Then he said, "All right, then maybe you shouldn't be wielding a cleaver in your current state."

"I'm not brandishing a..." I trailed off when I raised the knife I was carrying up between us and realized it was a massive-as-hell cleaver. "Shit," I grumbled.

His hand returned to my wrist, and he reclaimed hold of the cleaver. Then he extended an arm and gave the cleaver to his mother, who was lurking nearby.

It was then that I recalled we had an audience, and it was then that I remembered how bad life was for me, and I burst out weeping.

Falcone wrapped his arms around me as I clung to his thermal with my fingers clenched at the back and my face pressed against his chest.

My neck was gently wrapped in a warm embrace by his palm as it crept up.

My parents introduced themselves to Falcone's family in the midst of the awkward family reunion that ended with you ranting and brandishing a cleaver, but I ignored this because it was morally required to ignore other people when they were the family of the hot guy you were sleeping with, just met them, and they had just witnessed your ranting and brandishing a cleaver.

When the tears stopped, my eyes immediately began to look for the one who could make everything great.

I switched my attention to Melinda as I did so.

“Can you make me some handmade doughnuts even though I know Amelia is preparing breakfast?” I muttered.

Dad immediately said, "I'll go grab the biscuit dough and vegetable oil," and I felt rather than saw him move since my eyes were fixed on Melinda.

She was also wiping away tears, but she still grinned at me.

Yes, everything was more comfortable.

Falcone's arms tensed up as I placed my cheek against his chest, and I grinned back.

"Don't forget the chocolate fudge icing!" I said to my father.

"Gotcha," Dad said.

I felt something on the other side of my body and exchanged one cheek for the other in Falcone's chest as I twisted my head and glanced up to find Renz there.

His gaze was fixed on Falcone. "It's good to see that even after a family conflict, Gia's still working on her fantastic ass," he observed.

“Renz!" Amelia yelled.

I burst out laughing.

Falcone did as well; I didn't hear it, but I felt it up against me.

It felt great.

Falcone's laughing subsided, and I missed it until Amelia said, "She may be dazzled, but she's not afraid to use a cleaver." "I see positive things," I said, and I got it back.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Falcone had gone on an unspecified errand, and darkness had fallen.

His and my families had previously had eggs, toast, bacon, and handmade donuts prepared by taking biscuit dough from a tube, punching a hole in the center, deep frying it, and then slathering it with icing.

Homemade doughnuts weren't quite as effective as cookie dough in relieving stress, but they did the trick that morning, largely because Melinda prepared them.

Dad and Renz hit it off. Melinda and Amelia hit it off. Paz and Lur, like their brother, were both calm yet attentive. But I spent the majority of my time after eating donuts playing hide & seek with Sandro and Santo. There weren't many places to hide, but there was plenty of territory to hunt. I made one error, which was tickling them when I first discovered them, which they enjoyed, so they had me do all the searching and then made it simple to locate them. Sandro eventually sought to hide in plain sight. And he did it all while laughing and shouting out, "Gigi!" " because he couldn't say Giabella correctly.

After everyone had left and the dishes had been cleaned up by Amelia and Melinda, Falcone finally approached me and stated, "I have sh*t to do." He didn't elaborate, and I didn't ask for it, but he kissed me good-bye before he departed.

I unpacked my belongings and set them on my desk. I then turned on my computer and started working. When I felt hungry, I made myself a sandwich by breaking the seal on the condiments. I tried not to worry about Falcone, who was probably harmed while out with his commandos wreaking mayhem.

I had now turned my chair around to face the dim windows and the nearby haze of Manila's lights. We were in Manila, albeit a lost and forgotten area of it. It would likely be converted into lofts and hip eateries if the developers caught on.

My chin was lowered to my knees, both of my heels were up on the chair seat, and both of my arms were around my calves.

I looked out the windows and realized that my mother was a gold-digger with a nasty tongue who didn't give a damn about me. My sister was in terrible danger, and my living room was shot up. I was known for being a sexual toy. I was residing with the man who had a reputation for using me as a plaything. Somewhere out there was a biker who thought the absolute worst of me. And yet, despite all that was happening, I appeared to be daydreaming.

How in the world did it happen?

When I heard a commotion and went to look at the entrance, Falcone was coming in with all the grace of a man and his body under control.

Mm. Yum.

I observed him walk while performing a full body scan.

The good news for today is that Falcone was at home and wasn't shot, bleeding from stab wounds, punctured by shrapnel, or missing a limb from an explosion.

"Hey," he said as he approached the kitchen and kept coming at me.

"Hey," I said, my chin on my knees, my brain comprehending the fact that I was enjoying the spectacle.

He walked around the desk and approached me from behind, allowing him to bend in and put his lips, then tongue, to the area behind my ear.

Mm. Yum.

"Baby, is there a reason you're in a protective ball again?" he said.

"I sit like this a lot," I explained.

“Yeah?" His lips disappeared, and he swiveled my chair to face him as he squatted in front of me. "Why?”

"It feels good."

He looked at me for a second, his eyes studying my face.

"So this doesn't have anything to do with your Mom showing up out of nowhere and causing a scene?" he questioned.

Hmm. Maybe that had anything to do with it.

I chose not to respond.

Then he rose up, yanked me out of the chair, and turned on his boot to stroll through the warehouse carrying me.

"What are you up to?" I inquired, wrapping my arms over his shoulders.

"Showing you what feels good," he said.

Oh, I had a hunch I could see where this was headed.

"I need to save my work," I explained.

"You can save it later," he said as he continued walking.

"Falcone, what if there's a power outage?"

”

"You should have preserved it before curling up, Sweet Pea," he said.

He got to the seating area, sat in a chair, grabbed for the lever, and then we were yanked back flat on our backs, with me on top of him.

Maybe I didn't see where this was headed.

As my head raised, his arms wrapped around me.

When my gaze met his, he said, "Now, babe, this feels good."

He was correct.

I shifted my torso over his, my hip on the seat, one of my legs looped over his thighs, and I looked down at him.

Then it was my time to scrutinize him.

Face calm and attractive as ever. Warm but keen eyes. There are no dimples. Pure manly beauty from the hair to the chin and beyond.

I spoke as his hand came up and pulled my hair away from my face, scrunching it at my neck.

"I'm relieved to see you're alive and unharmed."

He smirked and murmured, "Smartass."

"And it's also not splintered by flaming shrapnel."

More smile, more dimples, more attractive.

Complete daydream.