The Italian's proposal

Chapter 4

Melody stood still watching the man in front of her, she had no idea that such specimens existed in real life. She was used to seeing them in vanity magazines, those magazines that only showcase rich and beautiful men, sheets and sheets of pure masculinity, wealth, and luxury. Men hand in hand with women who wore clothes more expensive than a car.

“Hello? Can you speak?” the man made her react with his heightened level of sarcasm. “Can I have my coffee now, or are you going to stare at me for ten more minutes? If it’s the latter, let me know so I can sit down.”

The man was irritating.

Was nothing in life perfect? Melody blinked a couple of times and watched as the man smiled.

With perfect, white teeth, typical of someone who exuded so much power and money.

“Your coffee will come out when I’m done with the others,” Melody turned back to the machine and waited for the small shot of coffee.

She had to call Doyle back to get a technician, otherwise they were going to lose customers.

The coffee shop had a lot of regular customers, the kind you could tell just by looking at them, they were repeat customers, old men visiting old Doyle’s business.

“Are you always this annoying?”

“Whenever a man because he has money wants to walk past those already on shift.”

The customers still at the bar looked from one to the other, as if it were a fight.

Although Melody was awfully close to going over the giant’s head with a demolisher.

She smiled at her own wild thought.

“Great. Now she’s laughing to herself,” the man spoke again, and Melody couldn’t ignore him.

It was automatic with her; she always had an answer for everything. That’s why she’d had so much trouble with her parents. She’d been a talkative teenager.

“I laugh at your pushiness.” It wasn’t true, but at least she could still incentivize the man to get upset.

The Mr. Money, for some reason irritated her son immensely, and if the saying that who you hate in pregnancy, like him your child will turn out, would that be true, for Melody would love for her son to have those beautiful eyes.

She delivered the last of the coffees and packed up the order of butter rolls and muffins and dispatched two of the customers at the counter.

“I did not come with arrogance. You, young lady halfway through puberty, you’ve put me in this mood,” he squinted, and Melody watched as tiny wrinkles set in the corners of his eyes.

Melody’s life was based on going back and forth from work to home, if anything going to the supermarket or pharmacy for a pill for her puking, which had never worked out for her, and yet she kept shopping for them in hopes to stop expelling everything that touched her stomach, there were times when food didn’t even make it to her stomach, it just came back up from her throat.

So, when that Mr. Money walked into the cafeteria, Melody had unconsciously decided to have some fun at his expense and in the process, refresh her eyesight.

“I’m not a young girl halfway through puberty,” she refuted, pouring his coffee.

The chauffeur or bodyguard, or ass licker, whatever, was still standing behind the rich guy watching the door, as if a war were going to break out at any moment, it would be funny to see a pregnant Melody hitting the rich guy with a butter bun.

“That’s what it looks like. Can I have my coffee now? If you keep looking at it like that, it’s highly likely to explode on you.”

“I’ve been dealing with this stuff for a while. I’m not going to let you...”

Just as she finished the sentence, as she handed him the coffee, Melody felt a cramp in her belly, and automatically dropped the coffee to grab where it hurt.

bar, splashing everything around her including the immaculately

less than half an hour!” he exploded peeling off the shirt

think that she was going to die from the pain, that she could lose her

Melody listened as the driver spoke to the man, worried, and upset. She could determine those timbres of voice, as her father did the same. Concern

it wouldn’t dial calls outside the coffee shop and the only number she

punched the speed dial and waited for her boss to answer, while the man cursed in what she

horrible months she had been through, she couldn’t believe she was going to lose her son, she was getting nervous, she could feel the cold sweat coming down her forehead and the Italian behind her didn’t help. The man had gone silent

air when

me,” she

Too

she couldn’t say anything else, she couldn’t find anything her brain could generate in a hurry, shifting her weight from one foot

I need you down there...” As Doyle talked

more than a menstrual pain normally hurts, but,

couldn’t because she had been locked out of her family’s home. The only one she kept in contact with was her older sister, the only one who since she had left, had called her twice concerned about the situation

cab, call a cab company... or I don’t know... I have to go; I have to go to the hospital. Something’s

have imagined, and tears immediately welled

on her shoulder and looked

“I’ll take you.”

the Italian.

“No,” she said.

I’ll be

placed the phone on the

the luxury of thinking they were the prettiest eyes that had ever looked at her. It wasn’t just

down at the coffee-soaked shirt and blushed, she had ruined his suit, his impeccable suit. She was sure it must be worth a fortune; one she didn’t have the

like this, it doesn’t matter,” he said taking the weight off what happened. “You seem more upset

You already

it right now.”

him dumbfounded, so easily he had gone from being a despicable man, to becoming a prince with a

her out of his car while it was in motion.

Have them go to work without me.” The driver/assistant made the requested call and nodded when all was affirmative

you at all. I don’t know who you are. I appreciate the offer and the trouble, I can even take your shirt to the cleaners, although I’m sure as you

non-stop?” he asks interrupting her and smiling amused

are you laughing at? Do I have a red ball on my nose or

you do have, but a red ball I don’t see.”

her white blouse stained with coffee droplets,

“Great.”

are nothing compared to my shirt. Don’t make a big deal out of

not making any...” Melody put her hand to

few drops of coffee on her blouse. She didn’t know what was worse, crying over it thanks to the pregnancy hormones that were driving her insane,

my meeting for you. The

remember what the hell the driver/assistant

bell on the door rang

Melody watched as his expression changed from confusion and

she exclaimed

Now if you don’t mind. You can tell

man had spoken

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