Rovbers

✧𝐗𝐗𝐕 (Niccolò Conti) ✧

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*  𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬  *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
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Los Angeles Freeway,
to Malibu / 01:26 am.

The night that he had confessed his feelings to his father in law on that small chapel in the backyard had been troubling for Niccolò, to say the least.

After the rehearsal dinner, Manolo had been so kind. So welcoming, so warm. Niccolò couldn't bare it.

He couldn't stand the thought that Manolo had been so warm. So accepting. Niccolò's hidden guilt had reached its breaking point.

After Manolo pat him on the shoulder and told him to stay the night Niccolò couldn't stand the feeling any longer.

He told his father in law that he needed a few things from his house, got on his cherry red Ferrari, and sped through the night. He didn't even bother taking off his tux. He wasn't sure where he was going. He had removed his tie and tossed it in the backseat somewhere.

His mind and hair tousled in the cold California wind. The night had been breezy and not a star was to be seen above. Clouds covered the sky with their large unforgivable blankets. Allowing no moonlight to shine through them.

Niccolò ran through a red light, then another. Damn. He thought, as he mistook the neon sign of a bar for cop lights. Since when was he on the lookout for cops? It was all that girl. It was all her fault. Niccolò had never been so desperate, so weak, for one single woman, let alone some girl.

He swerved to the left, the bright headlights of some car shone on his face and lit up those blue eyes like sapphires. He stopped at the edge of a cliff. He didn't realize he had driven all the way to Malibu. He stopped to think. He knew that if he didn't at least stop to breathe, him and his car would end up at the bottom of the ocean.

He even turned down Springsteen, lowering the volume of the stereo with his cold shaken finger. Leaving his heavy breathing, the subtle blinking of the rear lights, and the crashing waves of the dark black sea beneath to keep him company.

Niccolò was was troubled. Puzzled. Lost. She had caused him to be this way. Why did he have to listen to Borecci? Why did he have to meet her?

Everything was going perfect before she appeared. He was on top of the world. He could have any woman he wanted. He had everything he needed in the split moment that he had decided it. He was running businesses his father only dreamed of running. He had closed the deal with Sweden successfully with a party and champagne to show for it. He had even gotten this heavy and overly expensive machine he was just driving imported from Italy in perfect condition.

So why was he troubled? Why was he lost? Why did he feel like he didn't have anything at all?
Why did he only want her?

He stepped out of the car at once. His dark coat felt heavy on his shoulders and his shirt needed a few more buttons to be undone. There. Now he felt better. The sour spray of the ocean was refreshing  on his warm skin.

You know what would make you feel even better Nicky? A cigarette. Your old friend Marl! Said the unhinged voice at the back of his head. But not even a cigarette seemed appetizing to him then.

With every inhale he thought of her. The way she looked that night in Vegas. Her hair messy and her eyes sunken. She looked perfect.