Page 80 of Ruining Vanessa

Giulio looks at me strangely. “There’d better not be. It’s my favorite Peruvian place.” He cuts off some of the chicken breast, swirls it around in the yellow sauce it came with, and eats it. “Nope, still good. And basic enough that even Slayer likes it.”

I shudder and go back to the ceviche. “No thanks,” I say, shaking my head. “What’s the yuca taste like?” It’s easier to talk to Giulio about food. It’s like he’s a different person—a bit of a snob, maybe, but he relaxes in a way he usually doesn’t.

“There’s plenty for you, too,” Giulio says. “They look like fries but are way more interesting.”

The yucas are deep fried, fat sticks that definitely resemble potatoes, but I tentatively take one and dip it into the sauce. One bite, and I realize he’s right—they don’t actually taste like fries. There’s a hint of sweetness, and the mildly spicy sauce blends perfectly with the natural flavor of the yuca.

“This is good,” I say. I eat a few more, surprised by how much I like the sauce. Usually, spicy things are a no-go, but tonight is different. Weird.

A little disturbing, too, and it makes me wonder…

No. It’s just a strange thing. It has nothing to do with cravings or anything. Just being around Giulio and his weird food has made me more open. That’s all.

We talk about the food a little more, and I’m almost relaxed by the time I’m full. He clears the takeout containers, putting them on the floor by the mattress in the bag he’d carried them in. Then we’re left in silence with nothing to distract us, and the almost easy, casual mood turns into something a bit awkward—for me, anyway.

Giulio smiles at me, and I think, not for the first time, that it’s a waste how handsome he is. If he were just normal. If he could be the casual man who shared his mother’s clothes with me, who made me waffles for breakfast, who cares about his pets, all the time… without all the rest of it… he wouldn’t be so bad.

“Donny says you’ve been complaining about being bored,” Giulio mentions, leaning back against the wall. “I’d be going crazy too, locked up in a room all the time.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” I say quickly. “I just… always appreciate it when Donny visits. And when you visit.”

The smirk Giulio gives me speaks volumes. “Yeah? How appreciative are we talking?”

I know what he wants now, what he always wants when he comes to see me. I didn’t really need the prompt, but at the same time… It’s a way to segue into something else.

It’s a way to justify doing what I know he wants me to do.

“Very appreciative,” I say softly, and even though I’m trembling, I get up, then stand above him for a moment before carefully lowering myself to sit in his lap. I’m terrified he’s going to reject me, and I go still, looking at him with wide eyes.

Giulio places his hands on my hips, underneath the large shirt I’m wearing. He rubs his thumbs in slow circles, pressing in on one side. “What game are you playing, Mama?” Giulio asks, eyes keen with interest.

“You’ve been so miserable,” I murmur, cupping his cheek with my hand. “With your wife. She doesn’t take care of you.” I hesitate, trying to think of what to say, what to do. I want him to be happy with me. I want more freedom around Ntimacy. I want some semblance of how things were before I fucked it all up.

Giulio’s eyebrows go up, but he nods. “Yeah. My bitch of a wife keeps nagging at me. And doesn’t want to touch me. Is it a wonder my eyes started wandering?” He turns his head to kiss the palm of my hand. “And there you were, this sweet young thing…”

“I know I shouldn’t want you like I do,” I say, trembling a little as my other hand goes to his shoulder. “But someone like you… You need to be touched, don’t you? You deserve it, after all you’ve gone through.” I pull a little from reality, because really, I’m not half as creative as he is.

He pulls on my hips, forcing me closer. My cunt ends up pressed over his clothed cock—not hard yet, but I’m sure it won’t take long to get him there.

“How did we meet?” Giulio asks as he starts to unbutton my shirt.

I rack my brain, trying to think. I shouldn’t be thrown by simple questions, but it’s hard to come up with these things on the spot. “You kept coming into the restaurant I work at. Sitting at the bar, drinking, telling me how miserable you are. And I just couldn’t help it. I slipped you my phone number. I was so afraid you’d be offended and that I’d get fired…”

Giulio laughs and nips my breast lightly. “Offended? That a pretty girl like you wanted to get to know me better? But I know I wasn’t going to that restaurant for the quality of their drinks. It was nice to have somebody actually listen to me. To find somebody who cared about me.”

There’s something strange about his voice, and I wonder how much of this is actually roleplay.

No, I can’t let myself get swayed by him. He’s great at pretending.

I sort of wish this was the truth, though, that I was simply a waitress who’d been seduced by a man who wants to sweet talk her and spoil her. That could be him, too. He could find someone like that easily, ensnare them, sway them…

But it’s me he wants, and the best thing I can do is keep his attention on me.

Keep him happy.

“Of course I cared. You were always kind and sweet to me,” I say, projecting what I want to happen instead of letting him choose a rougher narrative. “I never thought it was fair that you had to marry her when all she did was make you miserable.” I lean in, still trembling, and kiss him lightly. “You deserve better.”

Giulio huffs, and I panic for a second that I’ve screwed up the game somehow, but then he pulls me in for another, deeper kiss. He holds me in place with a gentle hand on the back of my head, but there really isn’t any force in the gesture at all.

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