More Than Once by Dominique Wolf
CHAPTER 17:
I
made it to the coffee shop as the skies opened up to the world. The rain was coming down harder now and I was thankful for the coffee I bought on the way here. Even though our little shop was supposed to sell coffee, there was still so much that had to be done - including needing the equipment necessary to brew a steaming hot cup. Today was painting day and I had been looking forward to it. Reyna was stuck with a deadline for work so it was just me today. I enjoyed the painting process - it was a surprisingly calming activity and with my favourite weather outside, I was looking forward to it.
The only thing that would make this better was seeing Giovanni.
He kept his word and phoned me yesterday afternoon after his meetings but I had passed out, exhausted from my recent lack of sleep. When I woke up, it was late at night and he left me a message saying he called Reyna and she told him I was sleeping so he would call me tomorrow. His message made me smile.
When I woke up this morning, I was actually thankful for all the hours of sleep I managed to get in. I had this new refound energy that I couldn't wait to put to work. I turned the lights on and pulled the plastic covers we had over the floor again. We had been painting wall by wall and so everything was already in place to carry on. The last time I was here was the day of the beach party at Vai Moana. I placed my bag and umbrella on the counter and went to the back to get the paint. Moments later, I had filled my paint tray with the baby blue we had been using for the walls and placed it on the ground. The previous colour was a faded brown that lacked the comforting feeling we wanted this place to bring. I wanted this place to be a safe haven people could head to when they needed time to themselves with a book and a good cup of coffee. I also wanted it to be a place where people could spend time with a loved one. I wanted it to be warm and welcoming. Barcelona was warm and welcoming to me and I wanted to build on that atmosphere with a place that was entirely mine. I wanted to leave a mark here and remind myself that just because this wasn't part of my original life plan doesn't mean that my life would be any less successful. Working on creating our shop really gave me a sense of purpose that I so desperately needed. I had changed into an old shirt that I had left in the back, so I was ready. I reached for the roller and dipped it in the paint. I brought the roller against the wall and I was off.
After an hour or so, I finished the paint in the tray and headed to the back to refill it. I placed the tray on the ground and reached for the big tin of paint and started pouring. I heard the bell from the front door jingle as it does when someone opens it.
“Hello?” I shouted and placed the tin back on the ground.
Who could possibly be here? There was a clear sign on the door that said we were not open and given by the chaos going on in front, surely no one would think otherwise. I peeped my head around the corner and I was surprised to see Giovanni standing there with two coffees in hand.
“There you are!” He exclaimed and strolled over to the counter, placing everything he was holding down.
My eyes lit up. “How did you know where I was?”
“Reyna,” he reached for a cup of coffee and held it out to me. “This one is yours. Milk. No sugar.”
He remembered. I smiled and took it from him. “Thank you so much.”
“I know this is going to be a coffee shop but I didn't know yet if you had anything up and running to make your own and it's cold today so I figured I'd just bring us some.”
I sipped on it and the warmth spread through me. The cold draft he brought with him from opening the door still lingered but I was thankful for the coffee that was now warming me up again. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and pulled off the navy jacket that he was wearing that was soaked from the rain. He wore a tight white long sleeve shirt underneath paired with a pair of dark jeans. The shirt sat so well on him. I didn't know if he wore these kinds of shirts on purpose to show off his build but I was happy with the view. His clothes were way too nice to be hanging around wet paint though.
“You guessed correctly. There's still so much to be done including moving all the equipment back in. So what are you doing here?” I asked, casually.
I was so happy to see him but I had to remind myself to remain calm and collected about this situation. We were being casual and taking it slow so I didn't want to come across as too eager.
“Do you not want me here, Isabella?” He pretended to be offended.
I giggled. “Of course I do but you certainly don't look like you came to help me paint.”
“That's exactly why I am here actually. I thought you could use the company and I could show off my underrated painting skills.”
“Your painting skills?” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “I am happy that you are here though. I'm sorry I missed your call yesterday.”
He stepped closer to me and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, “Don't sweat it. You needed the rest.”
He leaned down and kissed me. So this was how we were going to greet each other from now on? I could definitely get on board with that. He smiled at me and reached for his coffee. I watched him scan the place.
“It's coming together nicely,” he gestured to the already painted walls. “I like that colour.”
“Me too. It took a while for Reyna and I to agree on a colour but this one works. There is still so much to be done but it's starting to slowly come together.”
The last thing I expected today was for Giovanni to pop in. Just having him here brightened my day.
“What?” he smirked, catching me staring at him.
“Nothing. Just glad you're here.”
“Well, you said we needed to get to know each other better so that's what we're going to do,” he announced. “We're going to paint and we're going to talk.”
“You cannot paint in a white shirt and those jeans,” I commented. “You didn't come prepared for this.”
He snickered. “It's just clothing Isabella.”
He scanned the area with a confused look on his face.
“Are you looking for something?”
“Where's your paint?”
I chuckled and pointed to the back. “I was refilling the tray when you came in.”
He nodded and escaped to the back. I was smiling from ear to ear. He had such a care-free spirit to him again and I was engrossed in his energy. Don't get me wrong, I loved sexy, bad-boy Giovanni but I was definitely captured by this other side to him. A few minutes later he came back into the room, tray of paint in hand. He placed it down and I leaned against the counter, enjoying the show. He reached for the roller and brought it to the wall, starting to roll on the paint.
“Please tell me you don't do this in silence,” he mused.
“I usually have earphones in but I suppose that would be rude now wouldn't it?” I joked, finishing the last of my coffee.
I tossed the empty cup into the trash can and went to join him. I pulled my phone from my back pocket to find a playlist.
“What kind of music do you want to listen to?”
“Surprise me,” he replied. “And no pressure but it better be good cause I don't know if I could be with someone with poor taste in music.”
Be with someone? How was this the same man who Reyna said wasn't looking for a relationship? He was so open and casual about where our relationship was headed that it made me feel all giddy inside. I felt like a child.
“Well, I don't know if I could be with someone with such poor painting skills,” I mocked pointing at an area on the wall that he missed.
He turned to me. “Does it look like I'm finished yet?”
I giggled.
“Where's your paintbrush, mi hermosa?” he mused and gestured to the other roller on the floor. “You're not going to stand and watch me the whole time.”
“Oh, but it's such a nice view,” I flirted, biting down on my lip to hide my smile.
He chuckled and turned back, concentrating on his painting skills. I decided on a reggaetonmusic playlist and placed my phone on the chair behind me. I picked up the other roller and dipped it in the paint. The beautiful guitar of Bota Fuego by Mau y Ricky filled the room immediately making me sway to the music.
“You're lucky I already approve of your music choices,” he mused. “So you like reggaeton music I take it?”
“I love it. I may not understand what they're singing about but I am obsessed with it,”
He laughed, “I take it you don't speak any Spanish then?”
I shook my head. “Un poco.”
He smirked.
“I've started to pick up on it since moving here. I definitely want to learn properly though.”
“I'll teach you,” he said as he peeped at me from the corner of his eye. “Repeat after me - puta madre.”
I burst out laughing, knowing exactly what that meant. “I'm aware of the bad words, Giovanni.”
“Then what more do you need to know?” he chuckled.”You're obviously not Spanish then?”
I shook my head, “Mom's Portuguese. Dad's British.”
“And you don't speak Portuguese?”
“Nope,” I brought my roller down to get more paint. “I grew up in a very English household away from my mom's side of the family. She had an older sister but we never saw her or my grandparents - they've always had an estranged relationship.”
He nodded along as I spoke.
“I hardly remember my grandparents. When my sister and I asked why we didn’t see them, my father explained that my aunt fell pregnant way too young and my grandmother ended up kicking her out,”
“Oh shit.”
“Things pretty much went downhill from there. There’s a lot more to that story but I think a lot of what happened made my mother the way she is now. She’s always been closed off. I don’t even recall my parents being very sentimental or loving in any way. Don't know how else to explain it but my family has always been very cold. I started to really notice it when I became friends with Reyna - her family has always been so loving and open. I wanted that.”
“You are the furthest thing from cold.”
“Hence the reason I felt like a complete outsider growing up.”
“I'm sorry about that.”
I shrugged, “Don't be.”
He turned and dipped the roller back in the tray. He lifted it and brought it back down on the wall, finishing off the spot he missed. We were side by side now in perfect rhythm with our painting.
“And you?” I asked, changing the subject, “Are both your parents Spanish?” He nodded, “Yeah, they were both born and raised in Madrid. I lived there until I was about eight before we moved to Barcelona for my dad's work.”
“What does your dad do?”
I remembered Reyna mentioned something once about his dad being in construction but the details escaped me.
“He owns a construction business. Velázquez Constructora. ’Velázquez’ as in our surname. He started that business back in the day and built it up nicely for himself.”
“So, how did you come to own a club?”
I wanted to know him better. He didn't seem to be heading out anytime soon and this was the perfect opportunity for us to share the basic information about ourselves that we completely skipped past. Our relationship started off pretty unconventional so now we were working our way back.
“That's a fun story,” he said as he smirked. “My dad got tired of my brother and I always going out, going drinking and he'd just finished the construction of the building where Mala Mía is now. He gave it to us and told us to make something of ourselves 'cause he was tired of us living off his money so we started our own club.”
“So the going out and drinking didn't stop then? You just did it in your own place.” I chuckled.
“Precisely,” he mused. “I'll admit that Alvaro and I were a lost cause for a while and thinking back, we were pretty spoiled but Mala Mía helped us get our shit together and we're not like that anymore. In the beginning, it seemed like our dad gave us the place but when he asked for the first month of rent, we had to grow up quickly and make it work. It's not as easy as it looks to run a club.”
“Of course. Any business has its challenges so I can imagine that this was no different. What does your father think of it?”
“He wasn't happy at all when we told him what we were doing with the place but we did it anyway. He's not the type to give praise or acknowledgment so when he doesn't make any comments, then we're at least in the clear.”
There was a different energy to him when he spoke about his dad. I could sense the underlying hostility in his voice and remembered what he said about them not being close so I knew there was something more to the situation. I wanted to know more but I didn't want to overstep. If he wanted to tell me, he would.
“You mentioned you had a sister right?” He changed the subject back to my family.
“Yeah, an older sister. Camila.”
Camila and I were six years apart and the complete opposite of each other in every way except our looks. We managed to have enough similarities for people to often ask us if we were twins. The main difference now between us was her recent decision to cut her hair to shoulder length while I continued to grow mine out. The age difference between us had always felt quite significant and there were very few times in my life that I felt like we actually got along. I often felt like my arrival into the world probably surprised my parents because I never understood why there were so many years between Camila and me.
“And where does Camila live?”
“In London. She got married a few years back and works for the newspaper that my parents own.”
Camila and Smith had only been married for a few years but had been together since she was in University. It was convenient for her when she met Smith since he was the perfect candidate for the role of her boyfriend. They were both studying English literature and Smith's family ran another one of the successful publishing houses in London. “Olympic Publishers” had been around for years and was started by Smith's great-grandfather. It was eerie how many similarities his family had to ours but apparently, that made their relationship work. My parents were over the moon by her choice and her nuptials only put more pressure on me to follow in her footsteps. I often reminded my parents of how long it took Camila to actually get married but they didn't care about that. If I could get that out of the way early enough then I could have more time to focus on my work - that was what they believed anyway.
“They own a newspaper?” he repeated. “Which one?”
“The London Herald.”
He stopped painting and looked at me, clearly recognizing the name. “Isn't that quite a big one in London?”
I nodded slowly. My parent's newspaper was one of the biggest in London and there was no doubt that they were running a successful business. Their taste for success was what drove them to ensure that Camila and I did the same. They wanted us to all eventually work for the paper and make it a true family business. Back then I welcomed the idea but now I was reluctant to ever head back to London. My mother was already overbearing as a parent, I couldn't imagine what she'd be like as a boss.
“That's pretty impressive,” he commented and continued. “Did you use to work for them when you were in London?”
“No. The plan was to end up working there but I used to work at a publishing house called Oak Tree Publishing before coming here.”
“Sounds boring.”
I sighed, “It was not boring. I actually really enjoyed my job.”
“So why'd you leave it?” He eyed me. “Was it 'cause of Nathan?”
“Nate,” I corrected him. “And I guess he did play a role in me leaving but someone else got a promotion over me the very next day after I got dumped and so I was pretty much done with everything in London.”
He reached the end of his side of the wall and placed the roller down. I completed my side and turned to place the roller down but didn't notice that I ended up flicking paint straight onto his white shirt in the process.
“Now you've done it.” Giovanni yelled playfully.
I turned back to him and there were blue paint drops all over his shirt.
“Oh no!” I exclaimed, reaching for him, “I am so so sorry.”
He looked down at his shirt and laughed. That shirt was definitely ruined now.
“See this is exactly why you should be wearing old clothes,” I walked over to him and examined my paint stains. “I really am sorry though.”
“It's okay, it's just a shirt.”
“Yeah but it was a really nice one.”
I needed to at least try and get the stains out. I felt too bad about ruining it.
“Let me see if I can wash it out.” I gestured to his shirt. “Come on, take it off.”
“You just want to see me without my shirt,” he teased, cocking an eyebrow.
I rolled my eyes playfully. “Don't flatter yourself.”
He smirked and pulled the shirt over his head handing it to me. He was right. Shirtless Giovanni was one of my favourite sights and I couldn't even hide it. I was standing close to him and I couldn't help but reach out for him. I ran my fingers over the tattoo on his chest. It was a side view of a roaring lion. It was so beautiful and detailed - whoever his tattoo artist was, they did an amazing job on this. I flicked my eyes up to his and he was already looking down at me. I looked back down, taking in the artwork on his body. I ran my fingers across his chest to his shoulder. He had a huge owl over the whole top of his arm. I was mesmerized by all of it. It was so precise and the detail was unbelievable. He had tattoos all the way down his arm until his hand. I ran my fingers down his arms, soaking in the details. He didn't stop me. He just watched me intently as I soaked him in. Being this close, touching him was creating a series of lascivious thoughts that I couldn't control. I didn't notice the cold air anymore because the heat between us was enough to keep us warm.
“Do you like what you see?” he murmured.
“Mm-hmm,” I said as I bit my lip. “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”
“I love it.” He breathed.
We made eye contact and the tension between us started to push its way to the surface. I ran my fingers down his chest and over his abs. They were so defined and I just wanted to kiss every inch of him. My breathing picked up and I had to remind myself that we weren't at home and I couldn't just give into my deepest desires.
“As much as I would love to take you right here, we should probably wait till we're in a more private place,” he murmured.
He was right. The large windows peering out onto the street didn't allow for enough privacy for us to do something like that. As much as my desire was fighting through, I managed to get a hold of it and calmed myself down.
“You're right.” I sighed.
He pulled me closer to him and his thumb caressed my cheek. There was a deep desire in his eyes and I knew it was taking every inch of self-control for him to stop this from happening right now.
“Let's finish this last wall so we can get out of here,” he said and leaned down to kiss me.
I pulled away reluctantly from him and agreed. I took his shirt to the back and tried to wash the stains out but I was unsuccessful. It needed a proper soak at this point.
We went back to our routine of refilling the paint and finishing the last wall we had left to complete. I spent most of the time stealing looks at him and his half-naked body. He could've kept his shirt on because as much as I tried to wash the paint off, it was a lost cause but I wasn't about to complain about the view. I was thankful for the heaters keeping him warm. It was surreal to see him here doing something as mundane as helping me paint my walls.
It was drilled into my head that Giovanni was not the relationship type and never would be and yet, here we were. While there were no official labels for what was happening between us, there was no stopping us from acting like a couple. A part of me was excited at the prospect of a new relationship but the other part of me was terrified. The way he made me feel actually terrified me - he had so much control over me, even though it was completely unintentional on his part. He didn't fight to have control of me, I just couldn't control how intense my feelings were for him. Physical and otherwise. I had yet to address my feelings head-on and I was just focused on taking what was happening between us step by step.
All I knew was that I wanted to be around him and I would take every opportunity I could to get to know him more. I wanted to know his likes, dislikes, pet peeves, favourite food, favourite movie - I wanted to know it all. The music coming from my phone suddenly stopped.
“And now?” Giovanni asked.
I strolled over to my phone. “Battery. When I fell asleep yesterday I forgot to charge it.”
“Grab mine.” He gestured to his big jacket on the counter while he carried on with the last wall.
I strolled over and slipped it out of his jacket pocket. I swiped my finger across it and it required a password. I turned to him and asked, “Password?”
“0-5-0-5.”
I typed it in and the screen welcomed me. “Is there any significance to those numbers?”
“My birthday.”
I made a mental note of that.
“So we're that close now huh? Look at you giving me your password,” I joked.
“I have nothing to hide.”
I smiled to myself and found his music app. I played the last song on his playlist and the slow reggaeton beat blared through his speaker. Giovanni started to sway to the music and it reminded me of that first night when we danced at Mala Mía. I already knew he could dance and it was hot.
“Now, this is a good song,” he said as he placed his roller down on the floor, turned to me and extended his hand.
“Come dance.”
“Oh no,” I answered quickly. “I don't know how to dance.”
He scoffed. “Oh please, I remember how you danced the first night we met.”
I blushed. The alcohol in my system really assisted me that night and gave me the confidence to move my body in a way I'd never done before. Now that I was stone-cold sober, I was too shy to try that again.
“The alcohol gave me those moves.”
He stepped closer to me and grabbed my hand, pulling me to an open spot away from the paint.
“Just follow my lead,” he murmured.
He pulled me close to him and I felt his body against mine. His hand slid down my back and rested on my waist while his other hand held mine. He started to move to the music - swaying side to side. My body followed his and I was surprised at how perfectly we fit together. I followed his rhythm and he knew exactly how to move to the music. He moved his fingers across the small of my back and I was overly aware of his touch. It burned through my shirt and I couldn't help but bite my lip. Was he doing this on purpose? How could I possibly control myself when he was making my body feel this way? I slowly lifted my head to meet his eyes and we were inches from each other. I slid my hand around his neck, running my fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and I knew he was enjoying my touch. I slowly scratched the back of his neck with my nails and he pulled me closer to him. I could feel him come alive beneath me. Our eyes met and we were both thinking the same thing.
“Forget the rest of the wall,” I murmured.
He brought his lips down to meet mine. They were soft and the coffee on his breath still lingered. I flicked my tongue across his. I needed him. I had done so well up until now controlling myself but it was too late. He nipped at my lower lip and my hands found his hair again. He ran his hands down my body and lifted me up, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. Suddenly the problem of being in a public place didn't matter to me - I needed him. He placed me down on my counter, never breaking the kiss. My legs tightened around him, pulling him closer to me. I nipped at his bottom lip softly and he groaned.
“You're killing me.” He breathed.
I ran my fingers down his body. He was so hot and his body was enough to drive me crazy. His lips moved to my ear sending goosebumps all over my body. He nibbled at my ear and I couldn't control the moans that escaped my lips. That was such a sensitive spot for me and he knew it. He knew exactly what to do to drive me crazy. Just as I reached for the button on his jeans a massive boom of thunder rippled through the sky, giving us both such a fright that we immediately stopped what we were doing. We both looked at each other and burst out laughing.
“Holy shit.” I breathed.
“Talk about a mood kill.” Giovanni laughed.
Maybe it was a good thing that the thunder interrupted us because I was just about ready to have sex with him on this counter.
“Maybe we should get out of here?” I suggested.
“That's a great idea.” He leaned down and kissed me, my arousal still lingering.
Giovanni took the tray of paint to the back and made sure that the tins were all closed properly. The last thing I needed was for anything to spill over. I cleared the rest of the area and folded up the plastic into the same corner I had it in. The wall wasn't finished but there was no way we were going to get that done today. We had been here for a few hours but all I cared about now was Giovanni. He pulled his ruined white shirt back on and slid his big jacket over it, hiding the stains. I quickly went to the back and changed back into my oversized grey jersey I originally had on. My scarf and jacket were hanging by the front door. I grabbed my bag and strolled over to put my jacket on.
“How did you get here?” I turned to Giovanni who was ready to go now.
He held up a pair of car keys. “And you? Did you walk?”
I nodded. “It wasn't too bad. I missed the rain.”
“Well, aren't you lucky that I'm here to make sure you don't get wet,” he mused. “Wet because of the rain I mean. I still have other plans for you.”
I gasped. “You can't say things like that.”
“Oh, please,” he said as he leaned into my ear. “You love it.”
Yes, I did.
He was so brazen about these things and I was surprised at how much I loved it. By the time we closed up and stepped outside, the rain had been reduced to a light drizzle but the thunder still roared across the sky. The clouds were still dark and there was definitely another storm on its way. I opened my umbrella for us to share.
“Where did you park?”
“Just down the road.” He grabbed the umbrella from me and gestured for me to scoot closer to him. I slipped my hand around his arm as we turned and strolled down the street. I was thankful for my decision to wear boots today because they were protecting me from the river of water on the streets. Giovanni pointed out his car in the distance but as we were slowly approaching it, a well-dressed older man stepped out of one of the shops and stopped us in our tracks. He was much older but quite attractive for his age. He had dark brown hair with flickers of grey spread throughout. His face held his age through his wrinkles and I guessed he must have been in his late 50's. He was immaculately dressed in a well-fitted navy suit and I was impressed by his style. I noticed his deep brown eyes had a familiarity to them.
“Papá,” Giovanni said from beside me. “¿Qué haces aquí?”
Papá? That's why he seemed so familiar. He reminded me of Giovanni. I suddenly noticed the similarities between the two of them along with the sudden change in Giovanni's demeanor. His father scanned his eyes over me and then back to Giovanni.
“I was just making a purchase. Needed a new suit for a benefit I'm attending,” he replied, his tone more formal than you'd expect between a father and a son.
He flicked his eyes back over to me, “¿Quien es está? The new flavour of the day?”
I was thrown off by his comment. I wasn't sure how to respond to that so I just stood there. I looked to Giovanni for help but he was glaring at his father.
“This is Isabella,” he seethed. “And please do not refer to her like that.”
His tone suddenly became just as formal as his fathers but he couldn't hide his frustration.
“I just can't keep up with this one,” his father said as he shrugged and extended his hand to mine. “Hola, Isabella. I'm Cecilio.”
I took his hand and shook it. “Hola, Nice to meet you señor.”
I was uncomfortable. The animosity between these two men surrounded us and I wasn't sure I wanted to be in the middle of it. His father clearly had no tact given by his tasteless comment towards me. I knew that Giovanni had a reputation but his father seemed to want to remind him of that.
“I should be going.” Cecilio reached for his car keys and pulled it out of his pocket. “llama a tu madre, Giovanni. She's been trying to get a hold of you.”
And with that, he was off. I turned to Giovanni and a flicker of anger spread across his face. I squeezed his arm in an attempt to remind him that I was here for him.
“Let's go,” I said calmly. He was angry now and as much as I wanted to know the real reason behind his broken relationship with his father, now was not the time.
Giovanni turned to me and the look on his face softened. “I'm sorry about him.”
I reached up and caressed his cheek, needing to reassure him, “It's okay. We don't have to talk about that. Let's just get out of here before it starts raining again.”
He leaned down and kissed my forehead before leading me to his car. He stopped in front of a stunning black Audi R8.
“No way,” I gasped. “There is no way this is your car.”
He chuckled and unlocked the car to prove to me that it was his. I was shocked. This was a sexy car but also crazy expensive. I clearly underestimated how well-off he was. He left me with the umbrella and went over to the driver's side.
“Get in,” he gestured.
I closed my umbrella and reached for the door handle. I slipped inside and closed it behind me. His car smelled just like his cologne mixed with the leather from the seats. The interior was lined with red and I had to admit that this car suited him perfectly.
“This is a great car,” I commented. “How long have you had it?”
He started the car and the engine roared to life. I pulled my seatbelt across me and secured it. He pulled out of his parking and we were off.
“Almost a year. This is my most prized possession.”
“I can see why.”
He turned the radio on and it automatically connected to his cell phone. The same song we were listening to back at the shop came on and I smiled at the new memory I now had. Having him close to me while we moved to the music together will forever be ingrained in my mind. His energy was contagious. He was so carefree and spontaneous. I was so drawn to him - everything I was learning about him was pulling me in emotionally, deeper and deeper. The whole ride back to his apartment I stole looks at him from the corner of my eye. How was he so attractive?He still looked tense though, the animosity from our earlier interaction with his father still lingered. He was so deep in thought. He was seriously bothered by his father and I could see he was holding onto that tension. Even in his tense state, I couldn't get enough of looking at him. His facial hair was my favourite - it made him look so sexy and I wondered how I ever found anyone clean-shaven attractive before. We sat in comfortable silence, our fingers interlocked all the way back and I welcomed it.
