Mafia's Obsession [18+]

20.

Sofia

"Oh, yeah?"

I hate the arrogance that radiates over him. Or a winning smirk I know gracing his lips. But on the other hand, I hate myself more for showing him that I care enough to have this conversation.

I'm absolutely not jealous over some random woman he decides to be with. It's the humiliation that irks me. Or his uncaring demeanor as though nothing's wrong with his action.

Men are not worth fighting for.

Sparing them attention is too grand of a gesture.

"Yes. Now can you keep your hands off me?" I try to detangle myself from his tight hold. Irritation laced in my voice. Especially for the fact that he's hard right now.

The audacity.

"Why would I do that?" he questions. If anything, he pulls me closer against his broad chest.

"I don't want you to touch me." I state sternly.

"Why?" he mumbles, face already buried in my neck, completely ignoring my protest.

"Because you fuck around." I hiss.

"Again. False claims." He mutters, his warm breath fanning my skin. It doesn't help with the situation. "Check my phone right now. It's from work." He insists, sounding borderline desperate.

I don't trust men for a reason; they have a habit of lying. Naturally.

"No, thank you." I say.

I tell myself, I am not that curious.

Ezio Salucci is not worth my slight attention. I should be sunbathing and drinking my champagne instead. In safe distance from him. Not in his lap, with just thin fabrics between us.

He chuckles darkly as though I just insulted him. A soft peck below my ear before he leans away from me. The moment he unwraps his arm around me, I get up straight away.

"I don't understand you sometimes, Sofia." He starts while I make a way to my previous spot. I raise my eyebrow at him, signaling to continue. "It's like the more I give you what you want, the more you drift away from me."

I sit on the rattan sunbed and decide it's time to reapply my sunscreen. "Maybe you're not the one for me." I reply flatly, rubbing the cream over my legs and arms.

"Embrace it. You're stuck with me." He grits almost angrily.

"Shame." A mask of indifference is put on, making him narrow his eyes.

"You're irritating." His frustration shows and it kinda gives me satisfaction. Good. He better knows who he's dealing with.

"Yet you still want me." I don't mean it to be flirty, but the way I phrase my insinuation can turn to be sexual in a way.

The affect is instant as I watch how his eyes darken at my words. The smirk gracing my lips is a sign of my winning because we both know he can't even deny his lustful desire. It's obvious by the look I get from his piercing stare.