Page 25 of His Vicious Desire

Taking it, he reads the email.“I missed class today because I have the flu.I’m expecting to be out for the next two weeks.Is there any way I can make up the time I missed once I’m back, or is there work I can do while I’m out?”

He shakes his head.“They’ll all shut this down.The flu is too much of a maybe on time?—”

“You’re using the flu excuse.I can’t think of anything.I’m scared someone is going to ask for a doctor’s note or something showing I went to the urgent care or ER.”I admit.

One broad shoulder goes up and down.“I can get you a note, no problem.It’s best to go with pneumonia.Pneumonia will give you more flexibility on time and recovery.If you feel better sooner, they’ll believe it since someone relatively young and healthy could recover faster.However, if you need more time, it would be understandable to them.”

He pulls out his own phone from his pocket.It takes him a minute to find the person he wants to call.While he’s focused on his phone, I study him.He’s wearing almost the same thing he was wearing yesterday: a button-down black dress shirt, black slacks, and slick black dress shoes.I’m reminded of the few pairs of jeans compared to the rest of his closet.

A part of me is still grappling with the knowledge he was once married.It’s wrong, so completely wrong, to hate a woman who is dead.Especially for hating her because she had him first, had his name.He had to have cared about her even a little bit—maybe in the beginning?She’s the reason he’s mean.I wonder what he was like at nineteen before he married her.

“Hey, Colin.I need a favor.I’ve got someone who needs a doctor’s note for school.I need you to say it’s because of pneumonia.I’m thinking two weeks minimum is needed.”

The other person says something I can’t hear.

“Thanks, yeah, email it to me.Name on the note is Bianca Leonetti.I appreciate it.I’ll owe you one, call it in whenever you need something.”Ending the call, his eyes meet mine.“The two weeks is an outside and the three weeks gets you more sympathy from your professors.”

He’s working my phone, and I realize he’s rewriting my email.Once he’s done, he reads it again.With a nod, he hands me my phone.“Now read it and see what you think.I’m getting into my email and forwarding you the note.Attach it to what you send your professors.”

This is much better than mine.I copy it so I can send the same thing to all of my professors and hit send on the first one.It takes a few minutes to send them all.By the time I’m done, I have two responses, and both are as sympathetic to me as Gaetano promised.One professor instructs me to read the next four chapters and do a summary of each one by the end of next week.The other professor gave me the two papers that will be assigned.He’s willing to wait on both papers until the end of next week.

I relay everything to Gaetano, relieved.These were my most important classes and toughest professors.If they’re responding this way, I’m certain the three other professors will, too.“Thank you.Okay, I’m going to take my shower now.”

ChapterEight

Gaetano

Watching her every move, it’s clear the gummy has kicked in.She thinks it’s because she feels better after taking a shower.However, her walk is off, she’s moving a tad slower than usual.

I open the car door for her and watch her fall into the seat and giggle.It’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve heard in my life and pulls a smile from me.I hide it by closing the door and walking around the car.

“Seatbelt,” I mutter as I get in.

“Seatbelt,” is repeated in a deep voice.The brat is mocking me as she does the head bobbing from side to side thing she does when she’s happy.More giggles are coming from her as she attempts to put her seatbelt on—attempt because she keeps missing the slot somehow.

Biting my lip to hide the smile, I take the seatbelt from her hand.We both still at that fucking electricity that shoots through every cell in my body at the slight touch.Ignoring it like the good soldier I am, I get it clicked into place in five seconds flat.

I barely have the car on before the music that’s usually blaring from the speakers is cut off.

Shaking her head mournfully, I find Bianca with her hand on my stereo—a stereo I don’t let anyone touch.Not even Sandro or Luca are allowed to mess with my stereo.“Gaetano, you have the worst taste in music ever.I refuse to be subjected to that again.”

Those damn gummies.Fighting a smile at how big her eyes are as she flutters those long lashes at me.“The worst taste in music ever?This coming from the person who made her brother sit through a concert for Robbie Williams.”

Her gasp is loud in the confines of the car.“He swore he would never tell anyone about that.I was thirteen years old.All fashion, music, television, and movie choices made before eighteen should never be held against a person.It was that show’s fault.They seemed to have the coolest stuff from the 90’s.How was I not to believe them when they said he was worth going against their terrifying mammies?Their Irish accents, combined with his English accent, confused my young, impressionable brain.I’m not asking to listen to the music I love.Even if it is way better than yours, because, you know, it like doesn’t give people headaches, I’ll settle for the radio.We can even listen to the oldies station that Bobby loves.I like some stuff on there.That Frank Sinatra guy is really cool.I listen to him now because of Bobby’s love of the station.”

I send an eyebrow up at her.“Theoldiesstation?”

“I’m trying to be thoughtful here, Gaetano.”The brat is unrepentant.“Even though I think you’d like my music if you let yourself.”

Shaking my head, I give in.I’ve been listening to the music she loved for the last few months, and it’s actually not bad.“This I have to hear.Fine.Plug in your oh-so-wonderful mix.”

Her little squeal of happiness fills the car, and I couldn’t hold back my laughter if I wanted to.She pulls out her phone and connects the Bluetooth to it.As she clicks through her phone, her head is doing the bobbing thing again.Once the music comes out of the speakers, her eyes are on me.

I pretend to consider the song.Even if I hated it, I couldn’t say it to those wide, hopeful eyes.“Not bad.”

The triumphant smile spreading across her beautiful face goes straight to my cock.I swear she has a dozen different smiles, and every one of them makes me want to do whatever it takes to see it again.

I’m gifted with her singing off-key during the drive and don’t dare say a word about it.As far as I’m concerned, it’s better than the original.Taylor isn’t bad, but Bianca blows her away.

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