amore [ #1 ]

iii | the blind sided

amore
[ chapter three ]

♥

HIS EYES WERE ON ME, he didn't bother keeping things discreet like I had asked him too all those months ago when we started fucking—he was thirty-nine and I was twenty-two. I knew him before that first night, though, he has been colleagues with my father for years.

I don't even remember how it happened. I saw him out one night, we got to talking and suddenly I was back at his penthouse in the city.

We didn't stop hooking up after that. I knew on some level it was wrong—freshly twenty-two fucking around with this forty-year-old divorced man. It didn't stop me though and it still hasn't.

With him, there was a sense of validation, like I mattered to someone. He was older and knew what he wanted, and I was what he wanted. I was so tired of the cycle—boyfriends, them cheating, and the attempts to feel better about myself by hooking up with random, sleazy guys at clubs.

I would die, though, if my parents found out about him and I. I liked to keep it under wraps but his over by the bar staring at me while my parents are sitting across from me oblivious to it all.

My best friend leans his forehead against my shoulder, groaning as he plops down with two glasses of water, "I'm never drinking again. Never. Fuck that, I feel like I'm dying."

"You say that every weekend," I poke his side, "and then you continue get absolutely smashed every weekend."

"Well, this time I'm following through," he lifts his head, dark circles under his eyes, brown hair falling over his forehead. "I'm done with the party lifestyle. I'm going cold turkey."

"I'll believe it when I see it, Ans," I tilt my head at my default best friend from birth. His one month older and he'll hold that over my head for the rest of my life. "Now sip your water and shush."

Then, from the corner of my eye, I watch Vitale pull out his phone, type a message out and then look back towards me. The sound of my phone breaks through the chatter at the table, prompting Ansel to groan and block his ears. "Turn that shit off."

"Behave, you two," my father interjected sternly, gaze sharp.

I frown, "I didn't even—"

"Athena," my dad raises his brow at me. "Do I have to remind you that you're twenty-three?"

I bite down on my lower lip, reading the message that flashes on my screen.

Glancing at him across theparty, his smirk seemed to grow more pronounced. I rolled my eyes, flipping myphone face down onto the table. He rose his hands in defence.

Ansel nudged my side, voice low but not low enough "Where do I find myself a hot, wealthy man, twice my age, with exceptional skills in bed?"

"Keep it down," I cautioned. "Or I might just stab you with my fork."