Chapter 41

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Alessandro's POV:~

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Alessandro's POV:~




That is it! I am going to kill everyone.

The thought crosses my mind as I see the men around our table and others with their filthy eyes fixed on Angel. The gun at my side suddenly feels heavy and my hand itches to tuck it out and empty it in the skull of these fuckers.

It was a bad idea to take her here and even worse, making her wear this dress that is making her stand out so much. She looks like a goddess among these mere mortals, her kindness creating a celestial halo around her and naturally attracting evil eyes.

Then again, I would not have it any other way. I would rather make all the men go blind than crush her heart and say that she can not wear what she likes.

I did not like it one bit when Christian called her beautiful in his mother-fucking-tongue.

French had never sounded so ugly before.

But I bit back my words when I saw the smile on her face. Although the fact that she knew Theodore before me introducing them, did not sit well with me. I know he has fans almost everywhere but still why my girlfriend?

My hand climbs up her leg and settles on her thigh over her dress, giving it an angry squeeze, wishing that it was her bare skin instead. Angel jolts beside me, her eyes flitting to my hand then my face. I see the displeased look clear on her before she grips my hand with the intent to take it off. I do not move. After a number of futile tries, she huffs and turns back to her friends.

I was never interested much in the showbiz, except producing some movies. When Theodore first came in the industry, no one wanted to take a risk with him. But I recognize talent, when I see it. So when he visited me with his project, I willingly invested. I am a businessman through and through. I never waste my money in vain and as expected, his film earned me a lot. Just after two movies, he got enough money to produce his own films but we still maintain good relations.

Though, I am starting to doubt it now.

My fingers roam below the waist line of her gown, thankful to the table for hiding the lower halves of our bodies. Angel sucks in a breath when my little finger accidentally touches her mound. Her voice falters for a second during the conversation before picking up its usual enthusiastic tone.

I make a mental note to tell Sam to block Franklin's movies from Angel's phone and make sure that none of them are aired on any television of my mansion anymore. Not even the series.

And the award shows.

My subconscious says.

Sì. That too.

(Yes.)

Other four fingers follow suit and the next thing I know, I have cupped her pussy over the fabric. She stops talking altogether at the action, those plump red lips parting to give way to a shuddered exhale. I put more pressure on the soft skin there and see her squirming in her seat.

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