FEDERICO

Do it.

Don't be a pussy.

She's rejected you a million times; what's one more?

Yeah, but you never had to work this hard to keep getting rejected. My thumb hovers over the send icon.

"You sure you don't want me to ring her apartment, make sure she's there, Boss?" Mostro shovels his take-out food into his mouth.

"I'm sure." I hit the send icon.

Me: You busy?

I don't wait long for her quick dismissal.

Elenora: Yep.

Me: Oh. I wanted to see if you wanted to grab something to eat?

Elenora: I have friends over, and I already ate.

I take a moment to think of a response.

Me: Another day, then.

She responds by sending a thumbs-up emoji. I think about sending the same emoji, but curiosity gets the better of me.

Me: Who's over?

Elenora: Nunya.

Me: Who's Nunya?

Elenora: Nunya fucking business.

Me: Don't get your vibrating panties in a bunch. It's just a question.

Me: Nigel? Clara?

I don't know if there are other people I should know about in her life. So I make a mental note to have Mickey dig into her socials to see if there's anyone to be concerned about, and then I chuckle at her response.

Elenora: Ben and Jerry.

I'll play along.

Me: Do they know you have a boyfriend?

Elenora: You mean fake boyfriend? Yes, they know all about you. I tell them everything.

I laugh out loud. Knowing her, I don't doubt she talks to her food.

Me: Huh, okay. How come you haven't mentioned Ben & Jerry before?

Elenora: I'm not into texting while I have company over, so I'll talk to you tomorrow.

Me: Right. Make sure you tell them my dick's bigger than theirs combined.

I send her an image, chuckling to myself.

Me: <------3

I settle into my seat, glancing up, and Mostro is watching me from the rear view mirror, with narrowed eyes, mid-bite.

"What?"

"Nothing, Boss."

My phone chimes, calling my attention again to Elenora.

Elenora: Ah, there it is. I was confused why you were texting me. However, this...this is the Rico I know and hate. But careful, you're coming across as jealous, and thanks for sending a true-to-size dick pic. I now know my pinkie finger is bigger than your dick.

I laugh to myself. "Damn, she's ruthless."

"That's what I hear from the guys," Mostro comments, and I look up at him.

"The guys are talking about her?"

Mostro shifts, wiping his mouth, setting his take-out box on the passenger seat. "It's nothing bad, boss. Just that she's a real ball-buster. And...she's a stunner."

I focus on sending a response to Elenora.

Me: Yeah, I'm fake jealous, princess.

Me: Don't think I don't know you're trying to bait me into sending you a picture of my actual dick. We both know you're sexually attracted to me...

Elenora: It must be hard to keep track of all the women in your life. You're confusing me with one of your weekend trollops. This is Nora, in case you forgot.

Trollops? I shake my head. I tell Mostro I'll be back and step out of the car. I knock on the glass door, and George, the night doorman, looks up from his desk.

"Freddy!" He greets me with a grin, opening the door. I struggle with returning a smile hearing the stupid name Elenora gave me.

"Evening, George." I shake his hand. "My name is Federico. I go by Rico, though, not Freddy."

"Oh, right, right, right. Nora may have mentioned that, now that you say that. I've wondered if you'd show your face or keep sending the anonymous gifts to Nora." I stop heading for the elevator to face him, wondering what the hell he's talking about.

"Gifts?"

"No need to be modest. It's nice to see the commitment you're giving into wooing a sweet girl like Nora." He walks around his desk. "Must be setting you back some, though. All these gifts and flowers ain't cheap."

He grunts as he bends down, lifting a box of chocolates and a bouquet of black roses, handing them to me. I'm not the romantic type, but I know never to send black roses to a woman.

My brief stint in the joint had me bunking with a self-proclaimed rose expert, and he would constantly drone on about the fifty types of roses there are and what they mean.

Black roses, while they can signify hope, typically lean more towards a tragic romance.

"I was debating on waiting to give them to Ms. Clara when she arrives or delivering them myself, but since you're here, you save me the trouble of making the trip." He sighs, sitting down in his chair. "You just missed the courier who delivered them for you, too. Probably would have saved some money if you did it yourself."

"Right...well, I'll make sure she gets them." I shift the box of chocolates and flowers as I hit the button for the elevator. I think about reading the note sitting in the middle of the flowers, but it would be obvious that I opened it.

I look down at the box of chocolates; they're expensive. Perhaps Elenora does have company over, and now I know she's expecting Clara. I better make good use of my time.

I knock on her door, half expecting Mrs. Jones to appear behind me, but Elenora opens the door faster than I assumed. "Clara, I thought you said you couldn't come—"

A spoon falls from her hanging mouth when she sees me. Her shirt has a large Taco image and the words Feed Me Tacos Tell Me I'm Pretty, and the pajama bottoms are covered in printed tacos. Her hair is wrapped in a towel, and some sort of cream is smeared all over her face. "Wow, you really answer the door like that?"

Elenora lifts a hand to her face and then the towel on top of her head; her eyes widen.

She turns away, leaving me standing in the doorway.

I step in and close the door, setting the chocolates and flowers on the counter, walking in further, not surprised to find the room empty. But I chuckle when I see the pint of Ben and Jerry's ice cream on her coffee table.

It's bound to turn to soup, I place the lid over it and put it inside her freezer as she rushes back out. Her damp curly hair is darker, and her face is fresh looking without any makeup.

"Don't worry, I put Ben & Jerry back in the freezer for you. They were literally melting from boredom." I grin at her.

"Why are you here?"

I shrug my shoulders. "To see you."

"I told you I was busy."

"Yeah, real rager you've got going on here." I saunter over to the couch and sit down. "If anything, you confirmed that you're fucking crazy, making shit up."

She scowls at me, but her eyes move over my attire: a T-shirt with a zip-up hoodie and a pair of gray joggers. "George asked me to deliver the gifts from your secret admirer."

Elenora straightens and unfolds her arms. "What?"

"The flowers and chocolates." I gesture with my chin. "I've got better taste than that, but it looks like I've got competition—"

I stop as she picks up the flowers and chocolates and then opens the lid to her trash can, throwing them in without bothering to read the card.

"...Or not."

Something is digging under my thigh and I shift on the couch, lifting a book from under me. I'm caught off guard when Elenora's suddenly over me, reaching for the book, but I keep her back.

"The Fire Within Me." I read the title out loud; the woman is dressed in a flimsy underdress in the arms of an exaggerated beefed-out man, his shirt wide open. "I didn't peg you for a raunchy novel reader."

I flip through it, finding the page she earmarked and Elenora makes another attempt to grab it, but I move it away higher while pulling her back on the couch. She lands in a huff next to me.

Her flustered and embarrassed state is amusing. I focus on the book again and begin to read: "They couldn't fight it any longer. He knew he needed her as much as she needed him at that moment. Their heated gaze lingered on one another as he reached for the top of the thin cotton night dress she was wearing. Her breath shuddered as his calloused, farmhand fingers skimmed the top of her shoulders, pushing the thin material off. It fell to the floor with a soft sigh."

I shift on the couch as I continue reading, not expecting to be reading something so sensual. "Her body grew hot and sizzled under his dark gaze as he admired her bare body for the first time. She reached for his shirt and began to lift it over him, but he pulled it off the rest of the way, knowing she would not be able to reach. His eyes focused on her luscious and tempting lips.

He moved in quickly and pulled her towards him. His fingers dug into her soft flesh as his mouth crashed down on hers. His hardened member pressed against her lower stomach, and she reached for his pants to remove them while he walked them to the hay-covered ground and laid her down. His hands roamed over her body, relishing that he was discovering uncharted territory; no one else had seen her or touched her like this.

He kissed her neck, savoring and tasting her, and then his mouth moved over her milky, pillowy mounds. Finally, his mouth covered her hardened rosebud peaks, and she gasped before moaning his name.

I pause; Elenora's anxious eyes meet mine as she gnaws on her bottom lip. "Okay, I'm secure enough to admit I'm kind of turned on."

A red blush paints Elenora's cheeks before I pick up where I left off. "He reached down, and his fingers found her honeypot warm and dripping. She was more than ready; he licked her sweetness from his fingers with a groan. He kissed her again, wanting her to taste herself on his lips. He placed himself between her legs and plunged into her.

She cried out but held on for dear life as he plowed into her, over and over again. He gazed down at her lovingly. "You're mine, Marsai. No one else can have you now."

"I'm yours, Drake," She gasped, and he drove into her harder, and she clenched around him almost painfully as the pleasure rolled through her in waves. He grunted with the force he used to pump into her until he emptied his seed into her, forever sealing their first time together."

I close the book, setting it on the end table. "I mean, it's cheesy as fuck but not bad. However, not at all romantic. Do you know how fucking awful a barn smells? Not to mention the fact they were on top of hay."

"I suppose you'll tell me you're the king of romance, right? The guy that has a fuck buddy on speed dial?" Elenora glances down at my other hand resting on her thigh from when I kept her back earlier.

The room has gotten hot for some reason, and there's this humming sound in here now.

My hand slides off her leg when she stands, walking to the kitchen.

She pours a glass of water, turning away to drink it, but I watch as she holds the glass against her head. I smile, knowing she's rattled, or maybe she's aroused like I am.

I make my way to the kitchen. "So, when you're not out getting shit-faced with Clara, you sit at home reading word porn?"

"You figured me out." She says, setting the glass in the sink. "You can leave now."

"I just got here." I lean against the wall, biting my inner cheek to stop myself from laughing as her eyes travel down the front of my pants.

Oh, yeah. There's no fucking doubt she's aroused. My smile widens when she shakes her head then moves back to the living room. Only this time, she sits on the chair instead of the couch.

"Okay, so what else do you do for fun?"

She lifts her eyes in my direction."I like to spend my weekends moonlighting as an escort for high-profile politicians and well-known businessmen in the local Manhattan area."

I take a moment to study the seriousness in her tone and face. "You're shitting me."

Elenora rolls her eyes before changing position on the chair, tucking her feet under her. "Obviously." She looks at her nails. "I'm getting back into my old routine, my old self before Leo..." She pulls in her lips, stopping herself from continuing. "So, congratulations, you were right. I'm fucking dull."

I sit back down on the couch. "What happened between you two anyway?"

"Why do you want to know?"

I shrug, settling into the couch and prop my feet on the coffee table. "Just curious."

"He left."

"Why?"

"Why don't you ask him?"

Getting her to fucking open up is like pulling teeth, having done that on some of my enemies, it ain't fucking easy. Then again, if someone was prying about my life, I imagine I'd react the same.

"Okay, so you don't want to talk about him. What about your mystery kisser? Have you found him yet?"

"Nope. I'm convinced I made it up in my head."

I chuckle. "What makes you say that?"

"Because things like that don't happen—not in real life. And even if he's real, he had a chance to say or do something afterward, and he didn't. He got what he wanted and disappeared." She picks up her TV remote and turns it on. "Story of my life," she mutters, focusing on the screen scrolling through the Netflix menu.

"What do you mean?"

Her lips press into a thin line. "Never mind."

"So, what's the deal with your Nonno?"

Her eyes close for a moment before she glares at me. "What's with all the questions?"

"I think we should get to know each other a little better. I don't want to be caught off guard about some hidden family secret splashed all over the press." My phone vibrates, and I scan an email from an associate on an incoming shipment update.

"So, why does he hate you?" I keep pressing her before putting my phone away.

She plasters a fake smile. "He doesn't. He loves me. Everyone knows I'm his favorite." I narrow my eyes at her snide response. "Since we're playing twenty questions, where are your parents? They weren't at the dinner...I think?" She looks away as if she's trying to remember if she met them or not.

"They're dead. Killed when I was six. I spent most of my youth in Italy, raised by my Zia."

A change comes over her face, and I hate seeing the damn pity in her eyes. "H-how were they killed?"

"Does it matter?"

She looks down at her hands before lifting her gaze to meet mine. "I'm sorry."

"Why? You didn't kill them."

I glance at my phone, not liking the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach for responding so coldly. Elenora keeps observing me from the corner of my eye before she finally looks away.

"I don't know why my Nonno hates me. He's always been cold towards me, and anything bad that happens to me or my family is usually my fault in his eyes. I'm bad luck." She pulls at an invisible thread on her pants. "I've gotten used to it, but he's part of the main reason I moved out."

Her voice is quiet. I wasn't expecting to feel sympathy for her. Or anything for that matter.

She shrugs to herself before focusing on me and changing the subject. "Which Zia did you live with?"

"Rosetta. Since you were plastered, she's the one with the long hair, in case you don't remember."

She ignores my insult. "Hmm, I thought it was the other one since you seem close to Domani." I tense hearing her mention Domani. She must be fucking into him, after all.

I decide to switch up tactics. "So, what's your number?"

"You have it already, idiota." (Idiot)

"I mean, how many men have you slept with, stupida?" (stupid)

Her mouth parts, and she raises her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

I groan, running my hands down my face. "How many different ways do I need to say it?" She still gives me a dumbfounded look. "Sex, Elenora. Sex. How many men have you slept with?"

Elenora straightens her posture. "None." She sets the remote on the table and heads to the kitchen again, busying herself with pulling things from the fridge.

"Quit fucking around, Elenora." I stand behind her now, but she keeps ignoring me.

"I know you're not a fucking virgin." I follow her to the sink, where she begins rinsing vegetables. "Sure, you have a certain...virtuousness to you, but I can tell you're not a virgin."

She fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove, moving the setting on the range to high. Next, she pulls out some chicken and seasons it.

I realize she's making a meal. "I thought you ate."

"I'm still hungry." She begins slicing peppers and then cuts an onion swiftly; it surprises me she does it without tearing up.

"That's the first time I've seen someone cut onions and not cry." I lean against the counter, watching her hands work efficiently.

"There's a trick to it." She pours some oil into a pan before dropping the peppers and onions.

"May I help?"

The muscles in her jaw flex before she sighs. "Grab the pasta in the pantry...Please."

I pull open the door she directs me to, but it's not a pantry, more like a cupboard. It's not surprising, though, considering New York isn't known for having spacious apartments. "What am I grabbing, spaghetti, penne, rigatoni or ziti?"

"The penne."

I grab the box and head to the stove. I figure she'll instruct me on what to do, but she's still working on mincing garlic. So I rip the box open, and as she lays pieces of chicken in the pan, I dump the pasta into the water.

"No, wait!" Elenora grabs my arm.

"What's wrong?"

She shakes her head and mutters. "The water wasn't boiling yet."

"Oh." I read the instructions on the box where it clearly states to pour the pasta into boiling water.

"I'll just dump it and start over." I pick up the pot by the handles and drop it immediately; Elenora jumps back as water and noodles spill everywhere. "Merda!" I hold my throbbing hands. (shit)

"I know you're not the most observant person, but common sense should tell you not to pick up a hot pot with metal handles."

Elenora pulls me to the sink and places my hands under cold water. "Stay here." She orders like I'm a fucking dog. Then, she rushes off to the hallway, returning with her hands full of different items, and sets them on the coffee table.

"How long am I supposed to stand here like an idiot?"

"Until I say." She states, mopping up the floor. Afterward, she grabs the pot, refills it with water, and sets it on the stove again.

She has me follow her, and then she pushes me down on the couch. She picks up my hands; the skin is pink and bright red in some spots, but there's no sign of blisters. Next, she opens a small container with some type of salve and begins working it into one of my hands. I hiss from the stinging sensation, and she lightens the pressure she uses; my hand is no longer hot.

"It feels cold."

"It's supposed to." She works silently, moving from one hand to the other. She finishes by wrapping them in gauze. "There." She cleans up, gathering the supplies in her hands. I look up at her as she stands. "Stay, don't move."

I scowl as she walks past me to put everything away. She goes back to the kitchen afterward and continues cooking while I sit there like a fucking child put in a time out.

As if signaled by the ding of the timer, my stomach grumbles at the delicious smells coming from whatever Elenora's made. She sets the food down on the table and begins to eat.

Elenora glances over at me, still sitting on her damn couch. I glower when her lips twitch; trying not to laugh. "You can leave, or you can eat...if you're hungry."

I sit across from her and begin eating. The meal is simple, sauteed vegetables with seared chicken and pasta. I pour myself some wine. "It's good. Your mom taught you to cook?"

She shakes her head before she sips her wine. "No. It was my nonna."

"Where is she?"

"She died four years ago...caught pneumonia. There was a complication, and she was gone. She was the only one who stood up to my Nonno." Her voice trembles, and I notice her eyes grow red, but she continues eating.

It's getting too fucking serious for me. After a few minutes of eating in silence, I clear my throat. "So...you and Leo never...?"

She sets her fork down loudly. "Really? Why are you so pressed about this?" She picks up her plate and continues to eat on the other side of the counter, away from me.

"What about you? What's your number, Rico? Actually, I should ask how many women have you slept with in the last week to get a more accurate number. Or I could look up the New York Census, you've probably slept with every woman in the city, including their mothers and grandmothers."

"Nah, I have a hard limit for anyone over twenty-five, so consider yourself lucky. You made the cut." I finish my food, smiling at her.

She takes a bite of her food and talks around her chewing. "I lied. I'm twenty-eight, too. You thought I was older, remember?" She surprises me when she comes to pick up my plate and sets it in the sink. "Oh well, we tried. My father will understand, though. Come on, chop, chop. Out you go." She pulls at the sleeve of my hoodie, but I make no attempt to move.

"Nice try, but I checked your license when you were almost abducted. You are definitely twenty-three." I grin at her as I remove her hand from my shirt and take a seat in the living room.

I start going through the Netflix menu. "They say you can learn a lot about someone by what they watch."

"Well, you seem to know everything about me already, so why bother?"

I read the title of the most recent show she's watched. "What's Outlander?" I hit play, and the last episode that was on begins playing. The moans and groans from the characters having sex are loud through the speakers.

"I'm starting to sense a theme here with you." I smirk and switch the remote to my other hand when Elenora reaches for it. Her fresh scent invades my senses as she hovers over me, and I grab her around the waist, pulling her to the side so I can watch the scene.

"I'm trying to watch this."

I dodge her again, and we end up wrestling over the remote, tumbling off the couch, and her head thuds against the coffee table. Elenora groans, "Damn it."

"Are you okay?"

"Get off me."

I lean back as she sits up, touching her head. She winces as her hand moves over her head; she inspects her hand checking for blood.

But her nose starts to bleed instead. "Fuck."

"What?"

I hurry to the kitchen and grab the first thing I find. I run back to her, and she eyes the dish towel in my hands before I hold it up to her face. "Your nose is bleeding."

"It is?" Elenora pulls the towel away and sees the red stains. She goes to the kitchen while I stand there helpless as she wets the towel under the sink to wipe her nose, but it's bleeding too much to clot.

"What can I do?"

"Leave." She walks past me to the hallway bathroom and shuts the door. I contemplate if I should do as she said and go. This turned into a fucking disaster. But then the door opens, and Elenora walks out casually while I try to figure out what the hell she shoved up her nose. In place of a towel, she has a cotton-looking thing with a string hanging at the end.

"What the fuck is that?"

"A tampon." She sits back on the couch and continues to watch the episode, not giving a shit about how she looks right now. "I get nose bleeds a lot. They're very absorbent."

"So...you shove it up your nose like that in public, too?" I sit down, side-eyeing her.

She turns her head to look at me. "I'm not a complete moron."

"Good, because you look fucking ridiculous."

She gestures with her hand down over her clothing. "Well, I'm not trying to impress you now, am I?"

We sit in silence, and the episode progresses into a second love-making scene; it's not as hurried as the first one as they take their time this round. I'm keenly aware how our thighs and arms are touching and how Elenora shifts next to me.

Once the episode ends, she shuts off the TV and heads to the bathroom again without saying anything. I send Mostro a message that I'm heading back down when I hear Elenora groan; I glance up as she runs a hand down her face.

"As fun as this evening wasn't, I need to get to bed. I have a busy day tomorrow." She opens her door, waiting for me to leave.

I slowly move forward. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"Don't worry. After a short time of knowing you, I know it won't be the last time."

She's fucking impossible.

But I set my jaw; I'm not one to give up that easy. Elenora gasps when I pull her into a hug. Her arms hang stiff at her sides as I kiss her head softly. "I'll call you tomorrow."