Adèle finally ends the dialogue in French, so I can understand some of the words coming out of their mouths. “Let’s talk about this in my office. Everyone keep the shoot going!” she yells out, waving her perfectly manicured fingers in a circle, before walking past Mr. Donatello, who is currently holding the door open.
Luca looks at Crue, giving him a nod before leaving.
Why am I kind of sad that they left? I would love to see the rest of that pan out, even though I probably wouldn’t have understood a word of it. I would be witnessing the real ex-housewives of high fashion and sports. Netflix hire me.
“Let’s go everyone. Get Miss Castillo ready for the next shot,” Crue yells out in his thick French accent.
“Thank you so much, Mr. Manon, this experience will forever be with me.”
“You don’t have to thank me, doll. What you did in there really captured everything I wanted. You were brilliant.” I smile at him before waving as I make my way out. Hearing the door open behind me, I look over and see a pacing Mr. Donatello. Our eyes meet.
So much for not wanting to run into him.
“Tell Adèle to get it together, I don’t appreciate her filing another lawsuit for no apparent reason. If I see you and her so much as step into my life again, I will ruin you,” he says directly in André’s face. He quickly walks out the door as I give Mr. Manon a sympathetic look before mouthing an apologyin his direction.What does the old man have to do with all this? He just let his daughter marry the man she loved at the time. It’s not his fault that Luca’s parents happen to be assholes just like him. Rushing down the stairs, I find Mr. Donatello staring at me.
“What in the ever-living fuck are you doing here, Miss Castillo?”
I laugh at him, give him a sneer, and then walk past his standing form. He doesn’t take long to catch up to my strides.
“You didn’t answer my question,ragazza.”
“Why do you care?”
“Because you were just in my ex-father-in-law’s fashion house, are you obsessed with me, Miss Castillo? Is that it?”
I stop in my tracks and slowly turn to face him menacingly.
“Obsessed? The only thing that I think I’m obsessed with is the fact that I just modeled for a high fashion campaign. Wearing a collection that they specifically chose me for,” I say without wavering.
Bringing his thumb and middle finger to his temples he glares down to the floor. “You have got to be kidding me.”
“What? Does it hurt your ego? I seem to look good in all the clothes that they gave me, and I even had the honor of wearing one of their dresses at the gala. Remember? I bet you didn’t even notice I was wearing one of their gowns that day.”
He looks up at me.
Well, that’s until he literally grabs me by the throat and pulls me into him.
“You think you’re so smart, little girl? I bet you loved wearing my ex-wife’s father’s designer gown while I pulled your hair and kissed the ever-living fuck out of you. Did that arouse you,ragazza?Your neck fully exposed to me in that dark room or the way your soft gasps fell into the palm of my hand? Tell me... does it make you wet knowing that your stubbornness gets on my very last nerve?” I move a step closer, almost touching his lips with mine.
“The sad part is that you were too much of a pussy to rip it off.” I smile, looking him straight in the eyes before walking in my hotel’s direction.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Maria Alejandra
Here we fucking go again. Being back in Italy comes with a migraine the size of Mr. Donatello’s ego. The pretentious douchebag has another home race, and yet again, he’s hounding us on placements from the last time we were in the country. I mean, come on, dude, give yourself a break.
Your team isn’t even from Italy, your drivers aren’t either. I get the “I must honor my country” bullshit, but what happens out there is me and Xavier’s decision as well as the conditions and car’s performance. He can only do so much.
It’s not like today is race day or anything. It’s quali, so he can calm his inner Karen down while we try to do everything we can.
“Luca, relax. We’re going to do our best out there, so please, I ask you to have a little trust in us for once,” I say soothingly as I put my hand on his shoulder. He shakes it off before grunting and walking away, stressed. He’s a ten-year-old boy, I swear to God.
“And the boss stomps off in a tantrum, just like someone else I know.” Xavier side eyes me.
“I love you, but shut up.” He smiles.
“You love me.” His eye’s glint in mischief as he fucking grins, I glare but he doesn’t back down.