Chapter Three

Arabella's  P.O.V

“So you like boxing.” I say trying to make my voice audible, purposely wanting him to hear me. “I am quite good at boxing myself. When I was in school, they were very much afraid of me.” I smirk. I have never been the best at lying but I'm sure he couldn't tell since his focus was still on the bag and he did not look like he was paying attention to me. 

He eventually stops to look at me and then raises a brow. “Then punch me.” 

I scratch my head in confusion at his order. “Excuse me?” I say shocked, wanting him to repeat his statement. 

“I told you to punch me.” He repeats. 

“You see I would but I would not want your pretty face to be in the hospital for about half a year.” I chuckled, slightly moving away from him. 

“I'm offended you think of me as that weak.” He rolled his eyes, a small sarcastic smirk forming on his lips, clearly unimpressed by what I had just said. He probably found my comment ridiculous and I could sense the impatience radiating from him. 

Slowly, I look at him then look back at my fragile hands. I give my best swing and punch him in the arm and immediately let out a yell. “Ow!” I yell, waving my injured fist into the air. “What even are you made of. Rocks?” I ask, still in pain. 

“You don't know the difference between fear and laughter because those people were not afraid of you.” He chuckles darkly. He sounds really good when he laughs. 

“That really hurt,” I mutter, rubbing my fingers. 

He gets up and hold my hands rubbing the injured area. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable but happy at the same time because I did not expect a kind gesture like this from him. 

“I'm fine. You don't have to if you don't want to.” I say looking up at him. I did not even realise it was out loud. 

He looked down at me, his tall frame engulfing mine and then looked back at my hands, completely ignoring what I have just said. 

*~*

I ran my hand through my thick curly hair as warm water  splashed over me soothing my tense body. The shower was the only place I could be calm. A place where I could shut the world and think. It was my Zen place and I hated it when my showers were interrupted or when anyone dared to intrude. So imagine the surge of annoyance that formed in me when I heard a knock on the door. My fingers tighten in the water and I couldn't help but groan under my breath at the audacity of the interruption. 

Ignoring the noise, I squirted more soap on my sponge, trying to convince myself it was nothing. Suddenly the door fling open, and I turn around frozen in shock to see Vincenzo's commanding figure standing there in my bathroom doorway, watching my silhouette shower as if he had all the right in the world to be there. I feel heat rising to my cheeks. How dare he?

“Mr Varallo!” I exclaim attempting to cover my breast with my little hands that couldn't even get to cover half of my girls. I hope he probably wouldn't notice them. 

“It's 7:30.” He states. 

“Congrats, you know how to tell the time.” I roll my eyes turning off the shower. 

“You were meant to get my dinner thirty minutes ago.” He says angrily. I roll my eyes at him and quickly ask him to get the towel hanging by the door. “This towel?” He asks, picking it up. 

I nod my head. “But I'm hungry.” He wines in a manly voice. 

“I'll get you food when I get dressed.” I say in a tone a mother would use on her bratty five year old. 

“Yeah but I never said exactly what I am hungry for.” He smirks, moving slightly closer to the shower but not close enough for me to feel even more uncomfortable than I already did. 

“Sorry Mr Varallo, but you can't have it if it is not on the menu.” I turn back on the shower and continue running the water down my hair.”

I am guessing he got the message and left. The truth is, he was an incredibly attractive man and despite me now being so crazy about sex, he was unlocking fantasies in my mind. I did not even know I liked. 

After an extra ten minutes of my shower, I turn off the shower and step out wrapping the towel around my body. I exit the bathroom only to find him there laying down on my bed. 

“There is a reason this is called my room.” I say, annoyed. 

“There is a reason this is called my house.” He retorts, his eyes still closed. 

“Real mature,” I mumble under my breath. “Could you please leave, I need to change?”

He sits up and opens his eyes to look at me. “I don't see why you need to change what you're wearing.” He smirks. 

“Mr Varallo, I understand what you are doing and if you think I am going to allow this relationship to be more than a professional one then-”

“You'll what?” He asks, cutting me off. “You will quit your job and go back to the orphanage?” He chuckles, getting off my bed and taking steps towards me. 

A feeling of pain starts building up in my stomach. “H- how do you know about the orphanage?” I ask with a shaky voice. 

“You think I wouldn't do some digging around about your past and hire you?” He chuckles, his face turning into something dark. I did not understand what was so funny about that. “Let me just tell you this Arabella, you work for me and live under my roof, thus making you a responsibility and my property. You are mine.” He says whispering the last part that sent chills down my spine. 

“Goodnight Miss Rossi.” A small smirk tugs at his lips before he leaves the room.