Sold to Mr. Giordano

Arielle

That morning I woke up feeling better than I have in weeks. Antonio had actually confined in me last night and although getting excited over a kiss on my head is pathetic—that is the closest we’ve been in a long time.

Ready to conquer the day, I make a call to the spa and set up two massage appointments for Arabella and I. Normally you would have to call in advance to get an appointment, but as soon as you say your last name is Giordano, they are quick to move things around and squeeze you in.

Being with Carmelo and Arabella walking down the street is now… awkward. All I can think about is the fact that they were sharing a bed together. How many other times have they done while I was in the same apartment as them? Looking at them you’d think they’d be strange around each other, I know if I had casual sex with someone I didn’t like, I would feel weird around them. Then again, I’m not very custom to men seeing me naked. They seem perfectly normal as if nothing even happened between them. They occasionally talk and Arabella does her usually beaming, smiling and laughing.

How can she be a ray of sunshine in such a dark place we live in?

In an instant I find myself knocked to the ground, a man in a business suit walking on the street had bumped me with his full force with his shoulder.

“Watch where you’re going,” he says in a thick Chicago accent.

Carmelo grabs the man by his jacket and shoved him up against the nearest building. “Do you have any idea who you just knocked to the ground?” He says through gritted teeth and seething anger.

Arabella helps me up and I hold onto her as my jaw drops watching Carmelo make this man essentially crap his pants.

 “N-n-no,” the man stutters and closes his eyes in fear.

     “Her name is Arielle Giordano.”

The man’s eyes shoot open and his breathing picks up like he’s having a panic attack. “No! No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I should’ve watched where I was going. I’ll do anything, anything.”

“What’s your name?” Carmelo’s grip on the man gets tighter.

 “G-Gordon.”

 “Gordon who?”

 “Gordon Kellner.” The man is either sweating or crying.

 Carmelo let’s Gordon go and he runs so fast that in mere seconds he is on the other block and unable to see him anymore as he turns the corner.

 “Are you alright?” Carmelo frowns and holds up my arms to see if there’s any damage.

“I’m fine,” I nod my head quickly but still seem shaken by the whole situation.

“Why’d you let him go?” Arabella huffs with her arms crossed.

 “Because I got his name and Antonio will take of it.”

I go stiff, Antonio will surely kill the man. “You can’t do that. All he did was bump into me, he doesn’t deserve to die.”

“He disrespected you and in turn he disrespected the Capo.”

 We continue on with the day as if the entire thing was a distant memory, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the fear in Gordon’s eyes. How scared he looked the second he heard I am a Giordano. When Antonio hears about this he’ll be furious and I’m scared this man is going to have a harsh punishment in front of Antonio’s men just to teach them all a lesson on how not to mess with his possessions.

The massage is, in fact, a pleasant temporary distraction. I will forget for a few minutes until the man massaging me runs his hands over my now-sore shoulder. As he works his hands over the knots in my body I can feel all the stress and tension disappear. I let out a soft sigh and bite back a moan. This is exactly what I needed.

I turn my head over to see Arabella nearly drooling as the man works her body. I think of her and Carmelo and the release they probably found in each other and suddenly find myself slightly jealous. I try my hardest to shake the image from my head and let my mind wander to how my honeymoon was spent instead.