Chapter 4

Emiliana

It was Saturday morning and the sun was casting deep rays through my curtains. I yawned and grumbled, rolling through my covers and searching for my phone. It was ten in the morning. 

I pulled myself out of the pit of my bedroom, wiping the sleep from my eyes. My small footsteps echoed around my penthouse apartment. Marble lined the floor and countertops while each room was filled with bright light from the floor to ceiling windows that looked down at the vast city expanse below. 

My penthouse was on the upper east side of New York, where everyone had their own chauffeur, chefs and maids. I was one of the few who insisted on not being provided with such luxuries, and I was proud of the fact.

My phone pinged in the background as I poured out some coffee. I sipped the black liquid allowing the caffeine to hit the right spot. I switched my stereo on, blasting the volume up high as “walking on sunshine” came on. As old school as it was, I loved the retro tunes. 

I sang along as I wiggled my butt to my bedroom, dropping to the bed with my coffee with a muffled thud. I picked my phone up, scrolling through the messages.

Coffee. 11. Starbucks. X

My best friend Oli, I had missed him so much over the last six weeks. We had spoken on the phone almost every day, but that didn’t detract from me missing his presence and endless humour. 

Taking a sip of the dark brew, my nose wrinkled in annoyance. After spending my summer in Italy enjoying the good stuff, this one tasted dull.

See you soon x

I sent the message back before throwing myself from the bed and scanning through the racks of clothes that lined my wardrobe. While I would have loved to wear some leggings and a jumper, everyone knew everyone here. As much as I hated it, I still had an image and family reputation to uphold.

I jumped in the shower, tying my hair up in a messy knot beforehand and allowing the refreshing heat and power from the water jets to pummel my skin, massaging my jet lag away. I almost moaned at how glorious it felt, to be touched so aggressively. My thoughts travelled back to the night before, more precisely, Mr Green eyes. The way he had me pinned against the door to the bathroom while my hands pressed against his chiselled chest had me wishing I had stretched the interaction further. 

I was yet to find out why he had joined my family at the end of my visit, what he was doing on my father’s plane and why he had followed my every move. I had so many questions but only my father would be willing to answer them. The tight lipped god of a man had not uttered a single word since we met, which made me think maybe he couldn’t!

I wrapped the fluffy towel around my body, the cool air of the apartment sliced across my heated skin. The sound of “wake me up” boomed through the speakers in my bedroom and I twisted and twirled as the beat bounced through my feet. 

In no time at all I was making my way to the elevator, checking myself over once more before the doors opened. I had avoided wearing makeup as the Mediterranean glow had worked wonders on my skin. I was wearing my white Versace leggings, a matching coloured chiffon top paired with some silver sandals. The warm weather still hazed the city during the day and I was thankful for the slight breeze that whipped past me as I exited the apartment building. 

I stopped in my tracks. Those familiar green eyes graced me with their presence. I gulped audibly as he watched my every move; each step as I approached the town car carefully. Without hesitation, he opened the door for me. 

“Have you been waiting all morning for me?” I asked sceptically. His eyes never shifted from my moving form. “Italiano?” His muscular stature stood motionless, his firm hand grasped the door handle. I rolled my eyes at him and stepped into the car.

“Starbucks, please.” I called to the front when his green eyes met mine in the rear view mirror. He blinked at me in acknowledgment, pulling away from the sidewalk and navigating through the traffic.

Mr Green eyes seamlessly flowed through the traffic, I was never one to ask questions, as usually my drivers talked to me. But this handsome piece had my mind reeling with thoughts and questions. I was intrigued to find out what his voice would sound like but I resigned to the fact that maybe he was mute or genuinely rude.

We pulled up to the coffee shop and my door opened within moments. I met his green eyes with a glare of my own as my feet met the pavement. 

“Coffee?” I asked him sweetly. “My treat.” The door behind me closed and he folded his arms silently across his chest. “Fine.” I shrugged my shoulders and turned on my heel. 

The coffee shop was booming with the hustle and bustle of Manhattan. I spotted Oli immediately in the corner next to the window. His platinum blonde hair glistened as the light hit the glass panel beside him. I perched on the seat opposite as he thrust a cup into my face.

“So tell me, how was Italy?” He gleamed his Beverley hills smile at me. 

“Relaxing. I needed it.” I responded shyly.

“And?”

“And what?” I sipped my coffee lightly.

“No italian stallion sweeping you off your feet?” He jibed and I shook my head with a giggle.

“No, nothing like that.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “What?”

“I think the guy outside the window begs to differ.” He nodded to the side of us and I followed the direction. Mr Green eyes was leaning against the hood of the car, his crisp white shirt crinkled around his rigid shoulders as his thick arms folded in front of him. One leg was crossed over the other in black slacks, his whole body was rolling in waves of confidence and sex appeal. His eyes were trained on me the entire time as I sat in the window.

While I couldn’t deny the saliva forming in the corner of my mouth, he knew what he was packing and wasn’t doing a thing to remain inconspicuous. Carlos was never like this in Italy and none of my fathers drivers acted the way he did. They were always polite, made conversation and never induced sweet sensations across my body. 

I rolled my eyes at him childishly, moving my focus back to my coffee. 

“I have no idea what he’s doing.” I rebuked. 

“What’s his name?” He asked with intrigue. His deep blue eyes held my gaze.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged, sipping my drink.

“Is he your driver?” 

“I don’t know.”

“Bodyguard? Booty call?” Oli wiggled his eyebrows at me.

“I don’t know.” I shrugged again. Oli smirked at me as I realised what he said. “No he’s not my booty call.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Oli was now confused by the conversation.

“I need to speak to my father.” I rubbed my brow exhaustively. 

“Well I think he fancies you.” He grinned menacingly and the sight made me nervous. Whatever he had planned always scared me.

I left the coffee shop with Oli in hand. Mr Green eyes spotted us straight away, opening the car door ready for me to step in.

Oli rolled my wrist pulling me into a tight hug, his hands stroked the small of my back as he whispered in my ear. “Just go with it.” I pulled away slowly, watching Oli intently. He clutched my face tenderly and whispered to my lips. “He can’t take his eyes off you.” I held back the giggle and he pulled away from my face, teasingly giving me a wink and my butt a squeeze before walking away.

I turned around swiftly, watching as Mr Green eyes clenched his jaw. I could see the muscles working to keep his mouth shut and I inwardly grinned at the fact it worked. Mr Green eyes was uncomfortable with me around other guys. Even if that guy was gay.