Chapter Four

Books, she has found, are a way to live a thousand lives-- or to find strength in a very long one. 

Arabella's P.O.V 

I hear a knock on my door, pulling me out of my thoughts. I quickly wipe at my cheeks only to realize that tears has been there all along, almost slipping down without me noticing. “Come in.” My voice said hoarsely since I haven't spoken today. 

The man who introduced me to Mr Varallo walked in with a huge smile. “Hey, are you okay?” He asked. 

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine,” I say wipping my eyes. “What brings you?”

“How was Vincenzo's therapy session yesterday?“ He asks, sitting next to me on my bed. I notice his eyes glances at the pictures I am looking at. A wave of panic rush through me and I quickly turn them over, not wanting him to see what I had been holding. 

“What therapy session?” I ask confused. 

He frowns at me with disappointment evident in his face in the way his brows furrow together. 

“Vincenzo's therapist came yesterday for his therapy session and you had no idea?” He confirms by asking me. 

I nod my head shyly, my eyes lowering to the floor, a bit of uncertainty washed over me as I try to gather my thoughts.  “No one told me about him having a therapist.” I say my voice hesitatant as i attempted to defend myself, unsure if my explanation will be enough. 

“Arabella, you have been working for Vincenzo for a week now and he has missed two therapy sessions. Monday and Friday and you had no idea. What about the sheet of paper with the list of things you should know about him?”

“What list of things?”

He points towards the right, drawing my attention to the door where a list of things about Vincenzo was neatly written across it. I frown as I step closer, my eyes scanning the lines. But almost immediately my eyes caught the list, confusion settled it. The words made no sense to me. Then it hit me... here's the catch. They were written in a different language. I'm guessing Italian. A sigh escapes me as frustration took over. “How am I supposed to understand Italian?” I ask running my hand through my hair. 

“Your last name is Rossi. I assumed you could speak Italian.” He shrugs. 

“Yeah well, I don't. I need another list and that too in English this time.” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. 

He chuckles at my hot-headed temper. “Vincenzo is going to have trouble dealing with you.”

*~*

“Mr Varallo, my apologies for disturbing you,” I begin, entering his office. “But I believe you had a scheduled therapy session on Monday and Friday which means in two days, the therapist will be coming to see you.”

“I want a new therapist.” He states firmly making his voice carry a sharp tone as if he doesn't want to be convinced otherwise. 

“Why?” I still decide ask, confused. 

“Because that therapist is such a pussy.” He groans. “I hooked up with her just one time and she can't talk to me normally anymore.” He mumbles the last part. 

“Do you have a thing for having sex with women who work for you?” I ask more rhetorically than anything, rolling my eyes at him as if his words were the most obvious thing. 

“Only the pretty ones like you.” He says, his voice laced with a smirk spread across his lips and a teasing smile playing on them. His eyes lingers on me for a brief second, studying me in a way that made my heart skip. 

I turn away slowly, my eyes shifting else where as I tried to escape his gaze deliberately to avoid him from looking at me. I feel a faint warmth rise to my cheeks but I completely ignore it hoping he won't notice how flustered I am. “I will get you another therapist. One who is a bit older? And a male?” I say, turning away completely. 

“Arabella, one more thing.” He speaks up just as I was about to leave, his voice causing me to stop in my tracks before I can take another step. “The button from your shirt is undone.”

I look down at my shirt, my breath catches and my heart nearly stopped to see that my top was flung wide open. Heat rushes to my face and I feel embarrassed instantly as I fumbled to button it up quickly  while I bit down on my lips. How had I not noticed something like that.  “See you later, Mr Varallo.” I squeak, my voice higher than usual, barely steady even,  I do not look at him or wait for him to respond as I quickly rush out of the room. 

The first time he speaks to me after that incident in my room, and now it is my boobs being visible to everyone. How amazing.