I Blame Wattpad for My High Expectations of Men

Chapter 52 - Take good care of her, young man.

*Author's Note: One steamy scene up ahead, but nothing too bad. Again, if you survived the shower sex scene in chapter 20, you should be good. So, without further ado, here's chapter 52 (hehe, that rhymed). Enjoy, betches! Stay blessed! :)*

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~Flashback Continued~

~The Following Morning - Sunday, January 29, 2017~

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Ace, the door," I groan, my eyes still closed with half of my face buried in one of his pillows.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Lola," he groans back, turning his body to the other side, "you get it."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Ace," I whine, "you're closer."

        Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Lola," he retaliates, "you're younger."

"What the fuck does that have to do with anything?" I retort, throwing the covers over my head to muffle out the dreadful sound. Who the hell shows up at someone's house before noon on a Sunday, anyway? There should be a law against that.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Please?" He pleads. "I have a feeling that I'll vomit all over the fucking floor if I get up right now."

THUD. THUD. THUD.

"I hate you so much," I grunt, ignoring his 'love you, too' comment as I finally get up to give the annoying ass prick at the door a piece of my mind.

And I would've done just that the moment I had opened that damn door, had the stranger who I found standing on the other side not left me completely speechless.

"Mio Dio, guardati," he's the first to break the ice beneath us, but not even the splash of water following that idiom is enough for me to fully comprehend his words because what the actual fuck?

        He's here, it's him. And just like that, my pot of raging hatred -which I thought I had thrown out for good- begins to boil within me all over again.

        I hate the fact that he's here. I hate the fact that he was able to find me after all these years. But what I absolutely hate the most, is that somehow -for some fucked up reason- he had the nerve to believe that he could just show up at my feet and speak to me for the first time in my life like he's been doing it for eighteen years and counting. Because he doesn't.

        He has no right to be here, let alone the right to be talking to me, just like he had no right to discretely slip that check inside Lisa's envelope as some kind of buffer for whatever the hell his reason is for wanting to contact Luca and I after all this time. That then gets another thought coursing through my mind: did he already pay Luca a visit before me, or does he plan on doing that after I turn him down?

        Either way, he shouldn't be here. He doesn't deserve to be here, and in front of my boyfriend's house of all places, like he's been coming here his whole life rather than having found the address by hiring some fucking private investigator or some shit. I don't even care how he got here to be honest, much less why he's even here in the first place, all I want is for him to leave. And even then, if I were to never see his despicable face ever again, it'd still be too soon.

"You look so much like your mother," he then has the balls to say before stifling an awkward cough when I stare him down like he's lost his damn mind. Who am I kidding? Once he went insane all those years back, he probably stayed that way for good, otherwise he wouldn't be here adding, "my apologies, here I am speaking to you for the first time after all these years, and I haven't even introduced myself." He sticks his hand out for me to shake. "I'm La-"