Page 17 of Ruthless

Chapter 12

Philippe

Carla and I have spent the last three days connecting over things we don’t have in common opposed to things we share a love for. It’s an odd way to become acquainted, however it’s working for us. We both hate things like raspberry ice cream, but figured out we have the same favorite which is mint chocolate chip.

I’m a dog person where Carla prefers a cat but we agreed on getting one of each when we have her settled in Munich . . . and when it comes to kids I was surprised to find out Carla wants an entire basketball team. She assured me it’s normal in her culture to want many children, however I wasn’t prepared for her to want such a huge family. I’ll have to buy a castle just to house them all.

We’ve really bonded over our love of food and even went into conversation about opening up her restaurant in Munich. She wanted to get in contact with a realtor now before we left , so a property could be one-hundred-percent in her ownership and ready for construction when we both do get home. I understood the need to keep busy after moving to an unfamiliar area and connected her with a good friend of mine who can assist us. Carla asked me if she could be the one to purchase it, explaining she had enough left on a loan to be able to own it herself . . . but I said no. I won’t ever put my foot down to hurt her, but to help her. It took me a while to explain to Carla that we’re a team and I will help support whatever visions or dreams she wants to create. In saying it, I told her my gift to her will be paying for whatever is needed to get her second location up to par. Her reaction meant more than anything to me. Water was obviously in her eyes when she hugged me tightly and kissed me, staying in my arms for the longest she ever has. It was truthfully the first time I ever felt us connect the way we have been.

I’m out with Carla driving to her father’s when a call rings through from my father. I answer it, but shift it to private mode and hold my cellphone against my ear. “Hey Dad,” I say, all smiles from how much things have changed in the few short days it’s been since he and I had that difficult discussion.

“Son,” Just from his tone of voice I can tell something is wrong. “I need you to come home as soon as possible. There’s been an accident. Your mother was hurt.”

“What kind? Can you tell me anything?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have any news to tell you as of yet. Just get home as soon as you can.” He ends the phone call with a click and I put my cell back in the center console.

Carla smiles at me, “Want me to suck your cock? We haven’t gone that far and I’m itching to get under these pants of yours. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m fabulous at giving head.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you? My mother was in some sort of accident and you want to whip my cock out?” I snarl, pulling over to the side of the road. I beat my hands against the steering wheel in frustration, wondering what the hell happened.

“Oh my god, Philippe. . .” Carla whispers, taking my hand in her own. She looks at me with sorrowful eyes, almost like she wants to fix it.

“I’m sorry. Fuck. You didn’t know and I just snapped at you. I’m so sorry.” I mutter, covering my face with my hand. I don’t want Carla to see me like this, not after we’ve been doing so well over the past few days.

She holds onto my other hand and squeezes, “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.” I feel pressure at the weight of her coming over onto my side of the car. She attempts to reassure me in a sweet hug and while it’s adorable, I’m still worried about my mother.

“I need to get back to Munich now,” I say, taking my hand away so I can get a good look at her expression.

“Okay, let’s switch places and I’ll drive you to the airport from here. My father will understand, and if he doesn’t . . . well, he can go choke on a dick.”

For the first time since knowing Carlotta Moretti I’m simply taken away by her. Something I’ve come to discover about her is how giving she is to the people she cares about. I’ve never met a woman quite like her.

***

It’s fourteen hours later and I’ve already been able to see my mother at the hospital who was very fortunate. Someone t-boned her in town when she was driving and she’s lucky to be alive. The other driver can’t say the same and died on impact, but my mother is a fighter and is determined to get out of the hospital in time for my wedding to Carla. We spent most of the time talking about her, and of course she wanted to see photos of the two of us. There are only a few I like so I showed her one from two nights ago when we went out on a yacht I chartered. I wanted to have a romantic dinner on the water and Carla wore this beautiful purple dress. It’s her power color and she looks sexy as fuck in it.

Even though I’m happy my mother is doing fairly well for the accident she’s been in, I’m jet lagged and pissed. I’m angry that she was involved in such an ordeal and I want to be in my house, looking over Marienplatz square.

I’m only downstairs, waiting in the elevator for it to take me up when it opens and Luna is on the other side. “Philippe, oh my goodness, how are you?!”

“I’m fine,” I say, entering the elevator, waiting for her to exit. When she doesn’t I give her an odd look, “Were you going out?”

“I was, but . . . you just came in and we have so much to catch up on. How is your mother doing?”

“We can catch up tomorrow, Luna. I’m beyond exhausted.” I say, hoping she and I can catch up on things tomorrow.

“I’ll ride up. With the day you’ve had, you need a scotch and to relax.” She responds, pressing the button for the elevator to close.

I remain quiet for a moment, but speak up. “I don’t need you to make me a scotch, Luna. While I appreciate it, I can pour my own drink.”

For the first time since I’ve known her she rolls her eyes at me. “I understand you’re more than capable to pour your own drink. I’m trying to be a good friend to you and offer support in whatever way I can. You’re not only my boss, but a true friend to me, Philippe. You’ve been going through a lot and I wanted to check on you. Surely, you’d let me do that without being a dick, wouldn’t you?” The door opens to the floor we both live on and she exits the elevator in a rushed manner, telling me I’ve already gone and pissed her off.

Fuck, I was being a dick.

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