One Bad Day

 

Cellie's pov

I woke up with an intense feeling of unease. Like I could tell something unpleasant was going to happen. I couldn't shake it off, it was statiCellie pinned in the bottom of my belly.

I got out of bed and began prepping for the day regardless. Writing it off as one of the many tricks my anxiety played on me.

I decided to play some music and let the magical voice of Ariana Grande bury the unsettling feeling. I sang my heart out in the shower, I sang my heart out as I dressed.

I was so into the music I almost didn't realise someone was banging loudly at my door. I toned down Ariana and cocked my ear.

“Cellie, I know you're in there!” My landlord called out from behind the tatty wooden barrier.

My anxiety reared its ugly head again. So much for trying to contain it.

“Mr Edwards,” I mumbled as I opened the door to his cranky countenance. “To what do I owe this early morning visit?”

Mr Edwards humphed in response, nodding towards the man I only just noticed at his side. The man handed me a white envelope.

My confusion was suddenly replaced with a suffocating feeling of dread as I read the contents.

My guts were right after all. Clairvoyant, clairvoyant me.

“T-two months? You're giving me just two months to pay off eight months worth of rent and will kick me out if I don't meet up?” I said in disbelief as I ran my eyes over the stupid printed words on the A4 paper.

“Just as you read, yes. Delay will ensure automatic eviction.” The man my landlord had yet to introduce, said.

My eyes shot to his face and for the first time I noticed how ugly it was. Red-faced, big nose, thin stern lips. They roved over to Mr Edwards and I decided both men could pass as twins. Two hideous twins.

My head felt light, a vein throbbed in it. “Is this even legal?” I managed to let out. “Like are you allowed to do this?”

Mr Edwards’ unpleasant lips morphed into an equally unpleasant smile. “My house, my rules.”

I wished for the hallway ceiling to fall and crush him.

“See you, or not, in two months,” the heartless bas tard said. His horrid smile, intensifying like he had just made the joke of the year.

I was left standing in the doorway, the paper hanging from my drooping hands. The weight of Jupiter on my shoulders.

Just my fu cking luck. I was dead broke at the moment, I usually am but this time it wasn't one of the bad days, it was one of the worst days.

Where do I even begin with raising the money? Asking my mother for help was out of the question. I couldn't live through the humiliating speech I was sure to get. Also, I'd rather jump off a cliff than ask her new husband for money. That'd be a huge disrespect to my late father.

“F uc k!” I yelled, ripping up the rent notice to shreds before dumping it on the floor. I stared at the mess for a couple seconds, the stinging sensation of fresh tears brewed in my eyes. I took a huge breath, mentally collected myself, then headed out for another grueling day of job hunting.

***

My eyes watched as the young barista shakingly fixed me a cup of pumpkin spice latte. It was glaringly obvious he was new to the job. I walked into the coffee shop with a greeting on the tip of my tongue just to not find Glen's familiar grinning face behind the counter.

It was a bummer, really, because Glen had a knack for relieving my bad mood with his overall silliness. But he wasn't here and I was left with a rookie.

Rookie handed me my coffee and I went through my purse for the money.

It was almost empty.

I stifled a groan welling up my throat and considered forfeiting the coffee for a moment.

Deciding I needed it to get through whatever bumps the day was bound to send my way, I snatched one of the five one-dollar bills in it and handed it to him. Watching in despair as he locked the money away in the counter drawer.

My phone vibrated in my purse and I reached for it as I grabbed my coffee and made my way out of the coffee shop, instantly freezing when I saw who was calling.

A moment of hesitation and three deep breaths later, I finally swiped answer.

“Hello mama.”

“Cellie,” my mother's voice was stern like it always was. I wondered briefly what the issue was this time.

I say nothing and wait for her to get to the point, my chest heaving steadily.

“What are your plans for next week?”

I blinked, not at all expectating the question. “Um… nothing much. Just classes and a few part-time jobs.” I lied, I was as jobless as a newborn.

“Well make yourself available for Friday. Manuel has a function to attend and he wants you there.”

A pause. A long pause charged with the intensity of the crack that was about to cut through it.

I shut my eyes, “I don't think I can make it,” I said and with my eyes still shut, I waited for it.

“You don't think you can make it?” My mother repeated before scoffing. “The DeLeons are generous enough to hand you an opportunity to be part of the family but you think you're too busy for it?”

I steadied my voice before speaking, “that's not what I meant-”

“Then what did you mean?”

I exhaled a deep breath.

“You should be grateful they're even willing to acknowledge you for my sake. Stop being unnecessarily difficult and make time for it.” She snapped so sharply I pulled the phone away from my ear.

The line went dead.

My fingers curled tightly around the phone as I glowered at it in rising anger.

Feeling the strong need to focus on something else I sipped my coffee hoping the wondrous taste will flush away some of my anger.

Nothing prepared me for the sickly sweetness. I choked, coughing out the unpleasant taste before glaring at the coffee shop.

The frustration that threatened to tip me over finally broke through in the form of hot tears.

I was one step from being homeless and a dollar poorer, was to play family with the DeLeons in a week's time and my coffee which was like my morning therapy, tasted like shit.

The day couldn't be any more worse.

I didn't know how long I stood there on the road, glaring into space and when my phone vibrated in the purse again, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I thought of flinging the thing across the road.

“Hello,” I all but snapped into the phone.

A pause.

“Is this Cellie Bianchi?” A feminine voice with a Spanish accent sang into my ear.

I cleared my phone and softened my tone. “Yes, this is her. How may I help you?”

“I am Silvana Cruz and I'm calling to know if you'll be available to tutor my son.”

My heart threatened to bounce out of my chest.

“Oh yes I am- available. Very.” I winced at my prattling.

The woman went about the details, not stopping to negotiate the pay. I wouldn't have objected because all that resounded in my head over and over was a thousand dollars per hour.

She asked if I could start today and I kept myself from screaming yes. I grabbed my little notebook and scribbled down the address she recited, thanked her over and over and hung up.

My entire body thrummed with elation and disbelief.

A thousand dollars per hour…

This was a one in a lifetime gig, a gig that could clear a load of my problems in one go.

I finished up the rest of my too sweet coffee, not giving a fuck about the taste and pranced off and for my new job. The client lived quite far from my own location but that wouldn't stop me from walking half the journey. A girl can only do so much with the little money she has. I would take a cab for the rest of it. Arriving in one will do more to bolster my pretense of appearing professional. I wanted to give the best impression.

I all but skipped along the concrete sidewalk in my nearly worn-out pumps, thinking and planning what to do with the money as soon as I'm paid. I considered moving out to a better apartment but crossed it off almost immediately. That would use up a good chunk of the money. Saving towards it would be a better option. I needed to stick to much smaller things. Things like buying myself clothes better suited for a tutor of a posh client. Groceries, Lord knew I needed five months worth of it with the current state of my fridge. I also had to get a new bulb for my bathroom, the one in it was as good as dead.

I mused on this for the reminder of my trekking journey and I was so lost in my thoughts that I almost didn't notice the cab dropping off a pregnant woman a few feet ahead. Thankfully, the woman took her time getting off so I managed to get to it before the driver drove off.

I gave him my location and proceeded to slip inside but a burly, bald headed guy with neck tattoos creeping out of his suit attire, who appeared out of God knows where, intercepted me. I looked him up and down and moved around him. A huge hand latched onto mine and before I could react, I was lifted off my feet and carried to a waiting Ferrari.

I wiggled and screamed, despair gripping me as I watched two other dangerous looking men scared the cab driver off. My abductor shoved me into the sleek car and my struggles ceased the moment I recognised it's other occupant.

Sitting beside me is none other than my intimidating stepbrother. He was dressed in an all black suit that made him appear as a gentleman even though he was anything but. His stern expression spoke volumes, and I knew he was livid. Whatever the reason may be.

I tried to get off, but the door was already locked.

The car was suddenly in motion, getting farther and farther away from my oriGeorgianal destination.

My own rage flared within me as I whipped around to face him. I was the one being abducted on my way to a godsent job. If anyone was supposed to be mad, it was me.

“What is this about?” I almost screamed.

Demetrio didn't bother to grace me with any explanation but instead threw a question of his own. “What the f uck are you doing here?”

His voice was like ice, cutting through my anger and weakening it with flakes of fear. Memory of his hand wrapped tightly around my throat as he coldly warned me the other night in my apartment, flashed through my brain.

I didn't reply, doing just as he had done and I was rewarded by a muscle ticking in his jaw. I quelled the urge to smirk. I could only get away with a few things.

“Turn the fu cking car around,” I said, attempting to be calm.

One second Demetrio was sitting on the other side of the passenger seat but in the next he's right in my face, pressing me into the door of the locked car.

“You will answer me when I ask you a fu cking question.” He growled.

I picked up on the dangerous warning in his voice and surrendered. “I got a gig, one that was to pay me a thousand dollars per hour but it seems I've lost it. All thanks to you.”

My admittance caused him to return to his seat, “you should never come here again.” He simply said, straightening his suit jacket.

There it was, that unreasonable command with no explanation as to why. My blood grew hot, threatening to burn through my veins. I held his stare and told him just what was in my head.

“I will go wherever I want to.”

Something dark flashed in his eyes, “this is the Mexican cartel's territory. If you're going to sell yourself, you should consider doing it in a much safer environs.

His words nearly sliced me in half. The bast a rd really did think I was a whore. I loved s ex but that was it. It didn't mean that I would sleep with any man for a couple of bucks.

I steadied myself internally, not wanting to let him see how his words affected me. "I don't give a damn about the Mexicans. I have a job to do.”

Demetrio reached into his jacket, pulled out a wad of cash and tossed it in my lap. "Take this. Forget whatever whore money you were going to get.”

The fu cking infuriating bas tard.

I glared at his stupid money in my lap, my hate for him threatening to consume me. He has ruined everything. The client was probably never going to reconsider taking me back seeing as I flaked out on our very first meeting. When will I ever get such an offer again? My vision slowly became blurry, the tears threatening to fall. But I refused to cry. I will never award him the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

The Ferrari hurtled to a stop in front of my apartment building and the doors clicked open.

I whipped my seething glare to Demetrio, fighting the urge to strangle him with the perfectly knotted tie around his throat.

He held my stare with equal intensity, daring me to act out.

My anger surged, "I don't need your fu cking money. I would never accept it even when I'm starving and dying. Also, it was a tutoring job, not whatever you think it was!"

Flinging the blood money back at him, I stormed out of the car and slammed the car door as my heart pounded in a well blended mix of hurt, anger and indignation.

The car door slammed again, letting me know he got out after me so I quickened my steps, not wanting to deal with him or see his infuriating face any longer.

He grabbed me just before I could slip into my apartment and pinned me against the peeling hallway walls.

For a minute, all that could be heard was the sounds of our angry breathing as we glared at each other. My eyes bored into his stormy grey own before coasting down to those sexy lips of his. I noticed his day-old stubble for the first time and a fresh cut in his jaw and I fought the irrational urge to draw blood from it.

I returned my gaze to his before I could think of more obscene things I wanted to do to him. However, my wild thoughts must have been mirrored in my eyes because he suddenly cursed in Italian before crushing those sexy lips to mine.

I stiffened reflexively, determined to hold off but my desire was stronger than my resolve. I was weak against that demanding mouth and its intrusive tongue. Seconds later I was matching its urgency. Fire for fire, passion for passion. My deep rage completely meshed into the dirty fusion of lips and tongues.

Demetrio’s pov:

“Merda,” I growled before capturing Cellie's lips with mine. The moment we connected, it was instant detonation. Something inside of me exploded at the softness of her.

What had only been prompted by the desire to silence her, to punish her for her rebellion, morphed into something devoid of corrective intent, stripped and untethered until I was bare and raw with lust. My already strained groin throbbed with yearning, for release, for her.

She infuriated me, maddened me with anger and some other thing so poignant, so new, so excitingly frightening.

I ravaged her mouth, ravished it, the kiss both an assault and a worship. I wanted more, craved deeper, wanted to brand her with me. To make her submit to me thoroughly, so completely consumed by me she would be incapable of seeing or hearing anyone else, until the thought of challenging me became extinct from her mind.

She moaned into my mouth and I nearly lost all restraints. The urge to lose the last thin layer of control was fighting a savage battle with my masculine desire to tear off her clothes and f uc k her senseless in this hallway.

I pinned her hands above her head and trailed my lips down her mouth to the tender flesh of her neck. She smelled divine; soft, sweet and feminine. My free hand slipped under her skirt and up her inner thigh, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from her.

“You want this don't you,” I rasped in her ear, delighting at her shiver and the soft moan she let out at my fingers brushing over her s e x.

My lips found hers again and this time there was no rush, no desperate urgency. I leisurely toured her mouth with my tongue, claiming and desecrating it with a need to mark myself, to completely own her luscious mouth and ruin it for other men.

I can't help but think of another thing I'd like to put in her mouth. The thought made me growl.

I pulled back to gaze at her face and the sight of it sent a zap of heat straight to the said thing.

Dio mio. Her plump, succulent lips thoroughly reddened from my kiss earlier, were parted in pleasure. Her pretty blue eyes were darkened with unfiltered desire, her pretty cheeks, framed by her golden tresses spotted a stain of flush so desiring, so maddening, it was almost torture to look at her.

She was perfect.

“You test me, gattina.” I said before returning my lips to her neck and I nibbled, bit and sucked.

“You're not so easy yourself,” she gasped out arching her neck to the pleasure I was giving it.

“Mi fai impazzire.”

“What does that mean?” She asked in a breathy voice.

“It means you drive me crazy,” I translated, my hand now roving up and down her delectable thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

She gave me another sweet, musical moan.

I had never been more livid when Sergio, the head of the men I had ordered to keep an eye on her, called to inform me of where she was headed.

I had never been more livid, but I had also been gripped with something else, a feeling I refuse to process or acknowledge. The Mexican cartel were infamous for their violence against women and her st u pid tutoring job had brought her dangerously close to the heart of their territory. To their den.

Looking back on it, it had bothered me how much I cared. It was my duty to, she was now family and consequently my responsibility but I wasn't prepared to care just as much as I would have if it were to be my little sister, Georgiana.

I vividly and viscerally remember the cold splinters that had cut their way down my spine the moment I picked Sergio's call. My st u pid, st u pid stepsister.

“I want you to promise me you'll never go back there.” I drawled, inhaling deeply, the beautiful scent of her.

“I don't have to promise you anyth–” she started to say in defiance but gasped at the sudden pressure of my thumb on her panty-clad clit.

“Promise me,” I commanded, not freeing her from the tortures my thumb were inciting.

She groaned in frustration, her eyes shut with the determination to stay defiant but it was only a matter of time before she'd give in. I just knew it.

I rubbed her clit and she jerked, biting out my name through clenched teeth. In warning or in plea, it was unclear.

“Promise me,” I repeated the command.

“F u ck! Fu c k you!” Her eyes shut tighter. “I promise!”

I gave her one last squeeze before releasing her. Even though it took an herculean effort. I was awfully aware of her nipples straining against her cheap shirt, of the wetness of her panties, the intensity of her arousal, of mine. Of my cck bulging painfully in my pants. My mind and my body disagreeing riotously.

But I released her, repetitively reminding myself of what she was. My stepsister, a mere woman. I will not subject myself to a second mistake. With the first, I had a valid excuse; alcohol. I wasn't going to give into my useless desires like some damned weakling. I wouldn't be f u c king don of all of Costra Nostra if I was one.

I watched her try to regain her composure. Her knees nearly gave out and she held the peeling wall for support. She stared at her feet, hiding the embarrassed blush I knew she had.

Strangely, I found her embarrassment hot for some fucked up reason. I was beginning to realise that every thought of mine was more fucked up than it usually was when she was involved. I suddenly felt the desperate need to switch the mood. So I thought of something, anything that didn't involve her up against the wall and wrapped around me.

“I trust your mother has informed you of the upcoming function.”

She blinked at me, her embarrassment fading into confusion and it took her a second to fully digest what I had said.

Then the confusion morphed into annoyance. “You've got to be f u c king kidding me.” A mirthless laugh. “Are you really talking about that now? After, after…” she trailed off, her cheeks heating up again.

Smirking, I said, “Yes I am.”

“You are unbelievable.” She fumed.

I watched her turn around and fumble through her purse for her keys but just when she was about to go into her apartment, I grabbed her waist and whipped her around to face me, her body pressed closely to mine.

She resisted but I only pressed her closer, my other hand fisting her hair. “You will answer me mia Cellie.” My tone was dangerously low.

But the stubborn hellcat refused to heed the warning in my voice, her annoyingly talkative mouth staying mute.

I wrapped my hand tighter in her hair and pressed my knee behind her legs.

She sucked in a gulp of air before gritting out, “yes.”

“Yes what?” I said, my hold on her unyielding.

“Yes. She told me.”

“And I trust you'll attend.”

A scoff, “its not like I have a choice.”

My knee jerked and she groaned, “answer me properly micetta.”

She glowered up at me. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” I released her but didn't step back, I was enjoying watching her squirm out from my presence a little too much.

“Am I allowed to leave now?” Her voice was gripping with sarcasm and malice but I didn't mind it. I loved to see her pissed, it was amusing.

“Of course,” I returned, gesturing with mocking courtesy and I stepped out from her personal space.

She gave me the stink eye as she fumbled into her apartment. Her eyes not leaving me.

I was thoroughly entertained by her childish antics.

“See you soon sorella.” I said just before she shut the door in my face.