Dangerous Desires

Ch 4: Matteo

As we enter the penthouse, Lola takes her bags from me, and I move to the living where my laptop is to prepare for my meeting. Expanding the hotels in the Asian region is something I wanted to do since my little brother Cesar opened his theme park in Singapore seven years ago.

But just as I open the laptop, the unmistakable sound of glass shattering echoes through the penthouse. Lola shrieks from the hallway.

I'm on my feet instantly, removing my gun from the holster as I sprint towards the sound. In her bedroom, Lola is on her knees, trying to pick up the broken pieces of a vase. She looks over her shoulders and freezes with wide eyes.

"Gun? Why do you have a gun pointing at me!?"

I quickly holster the gun. "I heard the glass and thought—never mind. You should get up before you cut yourself. I'll call housekeeping to come and clean it up."

"I can clean it up." She turns back to the shattered vase, and I quickly hoist her up. "Mr. Valentino?"

"I said I'll call housekeeping."

Walking into her ensuite bathroom, I place her on the countertop. Then, look for the first aid kit; she had already cut a few of her fingers trying to pick up the glass before I entered the room. I don't know if having Lola around for two months is a great idea. She is not only a ball of fucking sunshine but a klutz.

"I didn't mean to break the vase. You can take it out of my paycheck." She rambles as I tend to her wounds.

"Lola, no one's taking anything out of your paycheck for an accident," I say as I gently dab her fingers with an antiseptic wipe. Her eyes follow my movements, wide and worried, but she gives me a tentative smile.

"Are you sure? Don't say I don't have to pay now and then later on decide you want me to pay. I'm sure if I ask my parents for the money, they will give it to me." She winces.

I shake my head, trying to hide a smile at her earnestness. "I'm positive, Lola. Accidents happen. It's just a vase."

She relaxes slightly but still seems on edge, as if waiting for me to change my mind. "Thank you, Mr. Valentino. You're really kind, you know that?" Her voice is sincere, her wounded fingers held carefully apart as I wrap them.

"No one has ever called me kind before. I wouldn't even call me kind." I respond, focusing on the bandages rather than her gaze, which seems to be full of warmth. All directed towards me. I'm not kind, sweet, caring, or a gentleman. I'm the exact opposite of what those words imply, or at least that's what I've led everyone to believe. Still, Lola looks at me as if she's discovered something profound, something no one else has seen.

"You're kinder than you think," she insists with a stubborn tilt of her chin that both irritates and intrigues me.

I finish bandaging her fingers and step back, needing the physical distance to regain my usual composure. "Just don't go breaking anything else," I say.

Lola hops down from the countertop. She looks down at her bandaged fingers. "I'll try my best, but I can't make any promises. Clumsiness is kind of my default setting." She flashes a grin that's somehow both apologetic and mischievous.

I should be annoyed—after all, the vase was expensive and part of a set—but surprisingly, I find myself upset that she hurt herself rather than the half-a-million-dollar vase. "Try harder, Lola. You break anything else, and I will make you pay for it." I warn her before leaving her in the bathroom to let my warning sink in. I don't quite catch what she mumbles under her breath, but it's for the best.

As I stride back to the living room, I call housekeeping to come clean up the shattered vase. I turn back around and head back to Lola's room because I have a gut feeling she isn't going to listen to what I told her to do. After years of being the underboss of the family and the silent killer of the family, I've picked up a few things.