Chapter 11: Un-Armed

Alessandro’s pov:

Amber is unlike any woman that I’ve met before. All the women that I’ve brought here so far had been engrossed with swiping my card for drinks, dresses, jewelry, and whatnot, but here she is working on her hobby, literally standing out of the crowd. 

Her lips are pressed together, nervously as my hand is set on her waist. “We should call it a night,” she says, standing up and adjusting her skirt. “As you wish,” I say as we climb down the flight of stairs hand in hand. We head back home after a short drive. As usual, she goes to bed while I use the bathtub. I want to ask her why she drew Bianca’s portrait, but maybe she doesn't want anyone to know right now, so I’ll keep it that way.

I slip into bed, and we share the same quilt. My hand grabs her fleshy thigh under the sheets. “Alessandro, keep your hands to yourself,” she says trying to escape my grip. “I don’t feel like it,” I tell her, squeezing it harder. Slowly, I move my hand up, tracing every inch of her upper thigh. Her mouth says, “Alessandro..” breathy. I smirk and place my hand back on my chest.

I don’t know what was going through my head when I touched her like that, but it is pure attraction. I feel unarmed when I’m around her. I then turn away and sleep like nothing ever went down. The next day, work goes on as usual. Harlow and I meet at the port. “Any suspicious activity?” He questions the members working there. “Dante, long time,” I shake Dante Jovie’s hand firmly. “Alessandro, my son, how’re you?” He asks returning the handshake with the same intensity. We get on with the pleasantries swiftly and enter a serious discussion.

“The Flavias, having no capo is powerless right now, and no one is willing to step up from the gang. You’ve got to seize this chance and lure them under your force,” Dante says sipping on bourbon. “I’ve had their leader bow down to my feet, do you think they’d do the same?” I ask skeptically. “Yes, I suppose they will because none of them are aware of that,” Dante chuckles. “You need to fly out tonight,” Harlow says, “To secure hold on them, you’ve got to beat the Martinos. I’m sure that they’re out for the hunt already.” 

“Thank you for the visit, Dante,” I clench my fists, storm out of the port, and head straight into my convertible. I drive back home, recklessly. As I park my car parallel to the rest, my legs pace up to my room. Santino Martino is always trying his best to provoke me. I am blinded by rage right now, and despite being aware of it, there is nothing that I can do. I pack up to pay the Flavia’s a visit. I stop by the art gallery before flying. 

The sight in front of me calms me down. She has transformed this plain and boring shed into an elegant and elite art gallery. I climb up the stairs, hurriedly. As I step inside, I see her ordering people around.

“Kevin, I’d like the food to be placed right here, don’t shift the counters around,” she says pacing here and there, “Alexa, the musicians should be in sync, they can’t miss a single beat.” Amber requests one of the maids to cover every single painting with a piece of golden fabric. “Alessandro, pleasure seeing you here,” Lilly says as she stands right next to me. “Uh-huh,” I say not paying any attention to the sounds coming out of her mouth. 

Amber’s very short skirt and her authoritative tone are a real turn-on. “Amber,” I say as I approach her. “Not yet, Mr. Bianchi, I’m busy,” she says, not even looking at me. Lilly breathes down my neck as she says, “That’s disrespectful. You’re going to let your wife treat you that way?” I think of all how I would kiss Amber’s curves right now. “You’re busier with your work and yet, you’ve made it all the way here, but instead of giving you a minute of her time, she’s working on her hobby,” Lilly laughs.

If Amber snaps her fingers like that one more time, I am going to take her across my knee. “Alessandro-” I cut Lilly off by saying, “Lilly, I’d suggest that you remain professional and keep your nose out of my wife and I’s lives. Besides, her work is more important than mine, so go back to assist her, or get ready to be fired.” 

As Lilly clicks her heels towards the main door and gets to work, Amber comes up to me and asks, “So, how’s the place?” I say, “It’s great.” She smiles, takes my hand, and guides me around the place, taking time to appreciate the little details. “And this one will be a surprise, for the Bianchis,” Amber says tugging onto the rim of my shirt. Bianca’s portrait, I think to myself. “Amber, you’re done with the work here, we’re flying to Romano tonight,” I tell her as I place my hand on her waist. “No, you can’t interfere with my work, there are many more things that I have to deal with,” she says trying to push my hand off. 

“My verdict is the final verdict,” I say, moving my hand lower. “No means no, Mr. Bianchi,” she rolls her eyes. “We will be back on Thursday, you’ll have the whole day to work,” I say walking her out of the hall. “Whatever,” she says as the paparazzi crowd the parking lot. She puts on a smile and answers some nonsensical questions. After that, I drive her home. 

While she packs, I ask, “Not bringing your sexy sleepwear along?” Thinking about her in the unicorn-themed pajamas. She says, holding up some red lacey lingerie, “Nope, you’re got to deal with the boring one this time.” Oh, Mrs. Bianchi, once I see you in those, I will not be able to hold myself back. Night arrives and we head to the take-off station.

“This is my first time flying,” she says nervously. “Very well,” I say intertwining my fingers with hers. She looks into my eyes with her bright browns. 

“Ken, track the Flavia’s hideout, I need it in less than two hours,” I order him on call, “And ask Garret to gear me up for the mission as soon as I land.” We enter the jet and my patience decreases with every passing second. “Alessandro, why are we heading to Romano?” She asks while admiring the outside view. “For work,” I grit through my teeth. 

She sits down right next to me on the cushioned seats and puts on her seatbelt. Then, she pulls out her mini-book and says, “Look, this is the view of your backyard under the moonlight.” It is incredible, her art never fails to get me starstruck. “And this is your hall…” She says as she flips the pages one by one. “This used to be my home,” she traces it with her fingertips for a few seconds before moving to the next one. 

“Used to be?” I question out of curiosity. “Yeah, my father kicked me out,” she says without any expression. I clench my fists. “Why?” I ask unintentionally. “To be honest, he didn't give me a solid reason, it was over some petty argument, but then again, maybe he wants to erase my mother’s image from his mind. Me looking like her doesn’t help,” she says, her eyes glued to the cover of the book.

“When did you think about setting up the art gallery?” I ask, taking a sip of the sparkling wine. I say, “My mother and I used to paint together, and it was always her dream to open an art gallery. So, this Friday, during the inauguration…I know she will be smiling down upon me from the crowd of stars.” A tear trickles down her cheek, she turns away immediately and wipes it off her face. 

I hate seeing her cry, I can’t take it. “Mrs. Bianchi, come with me,” I hold her hand and lead her to the gun compartment. She quakes in her boots, and I see her losing herself in thought, but I whisper, lowly in her ear, “Amber, today, you will touch these guns, one by one.” Her eyes display fear, so I cover them with a blindfold. “Better?” I ask holding onto her tiny frame. “Ye...Yes,” she stutters. 

I stand right behind her and hold both her hands with mine. I press my body against hers and hear a gasp escape her lips. Her hands trace the rifles, shotguns, and handguns. She quivers a couple of times, but as we reach the fifteenth weapon, she is rather calm, and her hands are more curious. “So, this is the trigger, and this is the barrel,” I whisper as her hand moves on the long end of the rifle. 

We reach the last gun of the ensemble. “We’re done,” I say taking off her blindfold. 

She turns around to face me, her cheeks are a tone of bright pink, and her fingers trace my chest. She tip-toes with her high heels and whispers in my ear, “You missed out on one.” Her hands move lower and lower, and she teases me by clutching my belt, tightly. “Amber..” I whispered as her hands crept into my pants. Her hands trace the elastic band of my boxers as she gently kisses my neck.