CAPO

8. Rain

"It's apologise with an 'S', not a 'Z'"

"You're wrong, Arabella,"

"I'm an English teacher, Mr Armani,"

He laughed, shaking his head as they made their way out of the school yard. Arabella had finished her marking and they cleaned up her classroom a bit, making sure everything was perfect for tomorrow.

Giovanni frowned at her, "Didn't bring your car today?"

"I don't have a car," She said, her brows raised in amusement.

"But—"

"I'm merely an English teacher, Mr Armani. Not a millionaire who funds schools and hospitals, just an English teacher,"

"And a great one at that," He flirted, making the girl roll her eyes. He unlocked the black Mercedes AMG, opening the passenger side door for the girl. She smiled, slopping into the car. The first thing she noticed was how clean it was. Not a speck of dust, nothing.

"You're a bit of a clean freak, yes?" She asked once he was seated in the car. "I suppose, my mother taught me that cleanliness means more than anything, that and how to shoot a gun,"

Arabella frowned, her lips parting, "How to shoot a gun?"

"Yes, a gun. My mother is something else, very stern," He said, turning the key in the ignition. The car hummed alive, deep and gentle. "My mother was more interested in my studies than if I was depressed or not," She said. Giovanni hummed, "Yeah? That's terrible,"

"It was. My father was more of the" happiness before work" kind. So they used to butt heads frequently," She smiled, seemingly recalling the memories as she looked out of the window.

"Siblings?" He asked.

"Sister lives in Europe with her fiancée," She smiled, "They're getting married in August, actually,"

"So you'll be leaving to Europe in August?"

"If Marcus will accompany me, yes. If not, I'll have to ask Cleo," She said. Giovanni noticed how she played with her fingers. Nervous habit perhaps, he thought.

"How about you?"

"One brother, Enzo. I've got a sister too, she's in the US," Giovanni said, looking at the road. His knuckles were a pale white from his grip on the steering wheel. She noticed how his jaw was clenched tightly and his eyes didn't waver off of the road for more than a second. He was dressed sharply as always, navy blue suit with a black undershirt.

"What's your brother like?"

"He's hard-headed and he can be immature at times, but I have to deal with him, I suppose." She noticed how he hit onto his bottom lip, and she absentmindedly bit onto hers.

"How long have you and Marcus been together?"

"Three years," She mumbled, looking through the window again. She remembered something she wanted to ask him then, "You said you don't believe in fate,"

"Mhm," He hummed.

"Why not?"

"That's a conversation for another time, darling,"

"You must stop calling me these names,"

He looked at her then. The girl felt her heart stutter in her chest as his lips pulled into a smirk, "Oh, do you not like it?" He asked, tease lacing his voice. She shook her head, "No, its not that—"

"What is it then, honey?"

She breathed a laugh, shaking her head at the man. He stopped then, pulling in front of a coffee shop she rarely visited. Their coffee were the most expensive in the city, and their tea was usually the price but doubled.