I was mad at Angie at first, crazy at those words. But the more I thought about them, the more I understood that she was right. I'm selfish. I always choose me. Myself and my money. Not even cash but success. I love to win, I'm addicted to new achievements, new contracts, new deals. I'm addicted to earning more, reaching higher, riding faster.
But over the past month, I’ve realized that on my road to success, I'm losing a lot more than I realized before. And it's my family who suffers the most.
I never came to Tuscany for more than a couple of days. Even when Mom asked me to stay for longer, I always refused, finding excuses and sometimes leaving even sooner than I promised, saying that I had a lot of work to do.
I barely spoke with my relatives on the phone because I never have the time. I never bothered about the presents I gave. I just bought the most expensive cars, watches, shoes or whatever for Vi or Fran, and gave them presents on any occasion, hoping it would help me when I told them that this time I’d have to leave their party even sooner than the last time.
I put up with the fact that I didn't need anyone by my side and I would probably be alone for all my life. I told myself that my work and my success were enough for me to feel happy.
I was so wrong. Those thoughts were ridiculous, and now I know that.
But how can I say all this to Angie and not freak her out again? How can I promise her that I'll never leave her when she knows how single-minded I can be on the road to success?
I already left her once when she needed me the most, when she was so vulnerable after the death of her mom. She texted me every day from her boarding school, asking me to talk to her because she hated that place.
And I never answered. Not even once. I was mad at her that she chose someone else to be with over me. That's when I decided that success would be my target, and money would be the only thing I needed in life.
How can I change her opinion of me and make her believe in me and start to trust me again?
"Do you remember what you promised me in return when you asked me to help you save your company?" I ask, and she looks at me, her eyes widened.
"To pretend to be your girlfriend?" She raises an eyebrow.
"Yes, but I'm not talking about that, and I'm glad we didn't have to do it because, to be honest, you're not really good at pretending."
I smile. I love messing with her. I love her cute indignant face when I do that. Moreover, I want her to come and hit me again because I already miss her touch. And she loves to pinch me. She does it every time she hears something from me that she doesn't want to admit to herself.
"I am good at pretending!" she exclaims defensively, and I start laughing.
"Yeah, just like you pretended yesterday that you had your period and then two hours later made love to me and there was no tampon to be seen."
She doesn't respond, narrowing her eyes and pouting, and looks at me so menacingly, it’s as if she wants to bite me but is holding herself back. It makes me want to laugh even more.
"Don't mess with me," she threatens.
I know the thought of her hitting me turns her on just as much as it turns me on, but she'll never admit that.
"Okay, tiger, don't get into a state," I start, knowing perfectly well that it will only make her angrier. Telling a woman to calm down when she's furious is like pouring gas on a fire.
"I want to come up and strangle you," she hisses, but her eyes are burning in anticipation and desire. "But I think you want that too, so that's why I'll just continue eating and ignore you."
And she turns to her plate, taking an olive and placing it in her mouth, licking her fingertips and smacking her lips, closing her eyes in pleasure.
She's not ignoring me, not at all. She's teasing me, and it works pretty well because I'm already half-hard again.
I stand up so quickly it’s as if my ass is on fire and grab her in my hands. She gasps in surprise but lets me spread her legs and place her on my lap as I retake a seat, with her legs straddling me and her bare pussy pressing to the thin cotton of my boxers.
She wraps her arms around my neck and smiles widely.
"Don't play with me," I groan into her mouth.
"Me?" She pretends to be surprised. "Aren't you the one who always wins?"
I smile. I'm not the one who always wins. Obviously, I'm the one who's ready to fall down on my knees when it comes to this woman.
"I want you to help me choose the wine." I pull her hair back from her face, exposing her long neck. "And then we'll buy the vineyard to produce new low price Brandini wine for local restaurants and bars."
She smiles and leans closer, hugging me by the neck tightly and pressing her forehead to mine.
"So, you were serious when you said you decided to make your wine affordable for locals?" She sounds both happy and surprised.
"I'm always serious when it comes to what I tell you." I lean in to give her a kiss, opening my mouth to her.
I'm ready to open everything for this woman: my mouth, my soul, and my heart.
Chapter Fourteen
Ricardo
"I have to go, it's almost nine already," she says unexpectedly right in the middle of our kiss, still sitting on my lap.
I thought that kiss and her rubbing on my cock were leading to us making love again, but she obviously doesn't think so.
She tries to stand up, but I grab her hips tighter and press her harder to me, not letting her get up.
"You're not going anywhere" As I hear my own voice, I realize it sounds too rough, more like a command, but I won't take those words back. I'm pissed off. She wants to leave, and I can't control my feelings properly.
"I'm sorry if it sounded like a demand, but I'm not gonna sleep without you in my bed ever again," I say, more affectionately this time, but still vigorously, to make it clear how serious I am.
She doesn't say anything, continuing to stare at me as if I just said I'll tie her to the bed. I say nothing, still holding her tightly even though she doesn't try to get up anymore.
"I don't have fresh underwear, and you tore off my only dress yesterday, so I have no choice," she says moodily.
Does she seriously think I'll let her go wearing nothing but my T-shirt? For every perv in the city to jerk off after he sees those long curvy legs?
"We'll order clothes for you. Together this time," I continue, trying to sound calm, although I think I’ll explode at any minute, furious that she believes that I would let her go.
"Ricardo, that's what I was talking about, that's why we need rules," she says sternly, putting hands on my chest and stretching them, pushing her body farther from mine.
"Okay, rule number one: you're moving in." I raise my voice, and she jolts slightly in surprise.
I'm not supposed to yell at her for no reason. I'm not supposed to yell at her at all, but I just can't help myself when this woman tries to run away from me every fucking time!
"Okay then, rule number two," she begins, trying to sound just as affirmative. "I come back home and get everything I need. You don't buy me any more clothes, shoes, jewelry, or anything else."
I stay silent, pondering her words. That's not going to be easy, but I can do that.