Love is a bitch

❗️This chapter was inspire led by the song 'Love is a bitch' by Two feet ❗️

Oriana PoV

This was not okay. In no way, shape or form was it okay. My brother's best friend hadn't said a damn word to me in the 48 hours I'd been home.

We'd avoided each other for three years while I studied at university in London, across the other side of the world and he couldn't even be bothered to say hello to me and ask how I was doing.

Nicoli fucking De Rosa, a man I had known my entire life didn't even have the basic human decency to look at me, in fact that son of a bitch just stood by as his skanky fuck piece insulted and belittled me over and over again, she'd done nothing but be a total bitch for no reason, in my own fucking home.

What was his problem?? he just stared at me the entire time without saying a single word.

I mean, of course I'd grown up a lot in the last three years but I was fairly certain I hadn't sprouted another head or that my skin had been dyed purple with bright green polka dots all over it without my knowledge.

Most people wouldn't dare to even think negatively about him but I didn't give two shits about his status, the guy was an absolutely ignorant, insensitive idiot.

During the last two days this absolute icon of a woman had commented on my weight repeatedly, saying she was shocked I hadn't 'worked on myself' whilst I was away, whatever the helm that meant.

She'd suggested that I join the gym and even text me a link to their sign up page. Then she told me to ask the house chef's to create a custom menu for me to aid with my dieting!

All the time clinging so tightly to this fucking idiot I was being to wonder if she'd superglued herself to Mr big shot De Rosa !

But in typical pig fashion, it was slutbag Sara's questions about how hot British guys were and her odd desire to hear about all the 'dirty details' of my sex life for the last three years that prompted him to change from the weird mood he'd been in since I got home .

His cool, calm and composed facade crumbled when Sara wanted to know if I thought British or Italian guys were better in bed.

I swear to all the deities I could think of, he had actually growled at that question. It was so awkward I had simply laughed hoping it would move things on but he finally broke his silence, demanding an answer.

"Yeh Oriana whose a better fuck, Brits or Italians?" He snarled at me. His brown eyes laser focused on me as he awaited my response.

The muscle in his chiselled jaw ticked wildly and he gritted his teeth like a caged animal on the brink of losing control.

"I don't kiss and tell. Excuse me, it's been a long day and I really need some rest" I replied, swiftly leaving the dining room and jogging as fast as my high heels would allow towards my bedroom.

But just as I was shutting the door his hand hit the white wood and forced it open enough to walk through.

He gently shut it then locked it, then turned back to me with a finger over his lips gesturing for me to be quiet. I thought this was odd, it certainly wasn't what I'd expected when I saw him suddenly appear in my doorway.

Narrowing my eyes at him ready for an argument , my resolve faltered when I saw a sincerity in his eyes and I simply nodded in agreement.

My curiosity quickly rose when he began to type something on his phone, deep frown lines emerging on his forehead as he focused on whatever he was writing.

Once he was finished he passed the phone to me and I accepted it, tingles danced across my fingertips when his fingers brushed over mine.

Avoiding his gaze I bit my lower lip anxiously and focused on the message.

Your father installed listening devices in your bedroom a few days before you came home. I didn't tell you sooner because I didn't know for sure and wanted evidence to prove it to you and a reason why he did it.

I know how much you hate me so I knew you'd never take my word for it. The only room that's clean is your bathroom.

My heart started racing and kept looking between the phone and him, finding it so hard to know what was the truth and what was a lie. My chest tightened and it hurt to breathe.

Slow deep breaths. Bathroom now.

That was the end of the message.

Nicoli tipped his head towards my bathroom and as much as I hated him, I couldn't believe he knew how I'd react and that I needed to take slow, deep breaths to recover. In the three years that had passed he'd never forgotten my panic attacks.

Without thinking about it I pretty much tiptoed to the bathroom and closed the door once we were both inside. He immediately started the shower and turned the taps on which I guessed was to drown out our conversation.

"What the hell is happening?" I whispered-yelled at him.

"Ori try to keep calm or you'll have a panic attack. Breathe okay and I'll explain everything " they were the first words he'd said to me since I'd got home.

I thought I was strong enough to deal with this but every word out of his mouth hit me like a lightning bolt.

Hearing his voice brought back a tornado of memories and sadness clung to each and every one of them like an unwelcome, yet relentless guest.

After this evening's unexpected occurrences I focused on the floor beneath my feet as if I was seeking reassurance that it wouldn't disappear from underneath me any moment now.

For some reason I really needed to know that my feet were on solid ground, that was the only thing I knew was real.

Nicoli placed two fingers under my chin and gently lifted it until I was looking at him. A shiver shimmered across my body when he touched me.

I hated him, but my body betrayed me, craving more. So much more like nothing had changed between us and the last 3 years hadn't happened.

But they had. That was another thing I knew for certain.

The bathroom wasn't that big and it felt like the walls were closing in on us. Our bodies were tucked between the sink and the linen closet, as far away from the listening devices as possible.

My senses were in overload, I could feel the heat from his body and his favourite cologne drifted into my nose, strong enough that I could easily become giddy on the fuels.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The million dollar question finally escaped my mouth.