Tattered Love

Chapter 16

As I exited my office with the Greco's behind me; I come face to face with Ana sitting at the receptionist desk.

"The fuck she going here?" Alexander grumbles under his breath.

"You!" Donatello roars behind me.

"Yes?" Ana asks with a smug look on her beautiful model like face.

"Out!" Is all Donatello says.

"I'm just sitting at my desk." Ana fires back with her arms crossed. She's the bloody receptionist!? Much to my horror I can see her name plate on the desk.

"Not anymore, we don't need you here. You're. Fired." Donatello grits out through his clenched teeth. If this was an animation, he'd have smoke blowing from his ears. His tanned face becomes more red as he stares Ana down. His stare makes you think he's staring into her damn soul. He walks briskly towards her desk.

"But! You can't do that!" She yells back. Is this even good for her child?

"Yes I can." He snaps. I watch as his hand hits the intercom button on her desk.

"Guard's station." A deep voice echoes into the room.

"Escort Ms Ana out of my house!" Donatello yells out.

"On it boss." A voice sounds winded as if they're moving around in their station. What felt like forever was only mere minutes before two guards have entered where we are.

"Escort her gently off my property." Donatello orders as the guards grab each of her arms and begin to lead her up the stairs. We all follow behind and watch as she tries to argue back with any argument she could think of. I glance back to Alessio and see he's got his signature stone cold mask on, boring holes into the wall above my head.

What the wall do?

We make in up stairs in time to hear Donatello talking to Ana in a harsh tone.

"Don't forget, tomorrow you're to be here for that DNA test. You better pray to whatever God you believe in, that you're telling the truth."

Before she could respond, his hand slaps hard on the door and it slams shut in her face. The only thought I have running circles in my damn head is: how did she manage to get in here?

"Dinner will be ready in an hour. Go freshen up and we'll meet at the stairs." Alessio says as he coughs. Taking his que to skidaddle, I waltz up the stairs and throw open my door. I gently close the door behind me and walk to my walk in closet.

What to wear?

He didn't explain if it was formal or informal.

Do I wear proper clothing or can I come down in my sweats and hoodie?

Why must he be so unclear.

I spend a lifetime rummaging through my clothes before I decided to go formal yet informal. I slip on a black tee shirt dress that falls right above my knee. I wrap a thick red belt around my waist and slip my feet into some red flats. I pull my hair into a half up half down hairstyle. A simple half messy bun. I slip my contacts out of my eyes and put my glasses back on for the evening. I glance at my phone and see I have fifteen minutes to get to the stairs. I rush out my door and crash into a hard body. The air leaves both our bodies and possibly our souls as well.

"Where is the fire?" Alessio says with his brow raised.

"Sorry." I whisper in embarrassment.

"No need to apologize, let's head to the table." Alessio says as he walks off. We walk side by side all the way down to the dining room. A buffet styled dinner is laid neatly across the table. By the time we have all gotten our plates and head to the actual dining table; I realize I have no clue where I'm supposed to sit.

"Next to Alessio." Adriano whispers next to my ear. I glance around and see Alessio at one end of the table. The head. Next to his left is the only empty spot. The spot that's meant for the Don's queen.

I'm not his queen.

Why would I need to sit there for?

Without arguing, I take the empty seat next to Alessio. He looks over at me and for once does his breathtaking smile. The smile anyone rarely sees.

"Do you think she's having your child?" Arcangelo asks. His questions stops my fork mere inches from my lips. The room gets quiet as we all replay his question in our heads. Or while we wait for Alessio's answer.

"No." His voice is raspy.

His answer somewhat eases my nerves but in the back of my head there's that nagging voice. The voice that has the most doubt. The voice that doesn't believe a word Alessio has said.

The voice I usually listen too.