Alexandra stepped into the condo, her eyes widening at the sight before her. It was spacious, pristine, and impeccably clean. This wasn't the kind of place she expected, not from a guy who looked like he lived in the shadows, not from a guy who smelled like the forest and tasted of adventure. The furniture, sleek and modern, was arranged with military precision, each piece perfectly aligned, each surface gleaming. The walls, painted a stark black. The sofa, plush and inviting, was shrouded in black fabric, a stark contrast to the bright, vibrant hues that Alexandra preferred.
"I like the interior of your condo," she said, her voice a mix of curiosity and a touch of sarcasm. "Who's your interior designer? Can you recommend them? I want to fix up my room when I get home." She roamed around, her gaze darting from one meticulously arranged corner to another. "I always thought black was a bit… depressing," she added, unable to resist a little playful jab.
"I didn't have an interior designer, I did it myself."
"Wow! You're really breathtaking, so you're a minimalist, a bit of a black lover? Not bad," she said with a smirk, remembering her own room, a whirlwind of golds and vibrant hues. "I'm a bit of a gold lover." She paused, her gaze lingering on him, "So, where's my room?" she asked, her voice taking on an authoritative tone, as if she were the owner of the house, not a temporary guest.
The man, his brow furrowed, seemed to hesitate for a moment, his gaze locked on hers. "Don't you have even a shred of kindness in you? It's like you think you own the place."
"Oh, I'm sorry, I was just asking."
"Your room's on the left, mine's on the right. Just knock if you need anything. Don't worry, it's all clean." He turned and headed towards his room.
Alexandra watched him go, her gaze lingering on his retreating figure. Her heart, inexplicably, was beating faster than it should, a strange flutter in her chest that had no logical explanation. "Am I crazy?" she whispered to herself, shaking her head, trying to dispel the irrational thoughts that were beginning to plague her. "Why is my heart beating so hard for him?"
She entered her room she noticed the walls, painted a deep black, seemed to absorb all light, creating a sense of isolation and confinement. Even the bed, with its black linens and dark, plush pillows, seemed to emanate a sense of melancholic luxury.
"Even in the guest room, the color is black? He is indeed a boring person."
She flopped onto the bed and stared up at the ceiling. "Mommy, where are you? Why are you hiding all of this from me? I will accept everything, Mommy, but please come home. I need you. You are my only strength, Mommy."
Tears, silently and uncontrollably, welled up in her eyes. She missed her mother, her only source of comfort and strength. She had no father in her life, no one to offer the kind of unconditional love and support that she craved.
Alexandra got up and wandered around the condo, her gaze settling on the fridge. What kind of fridge is this?" she muttered "There's no food here! Is this guy not eating? Or maybe he just doesn't know how to cook." She opened the door, a sense of disappointment washing over her. The shelves were mostly empty, only water bottles and a black tumbler.
"What the!!" Alexandra exclaimed, her voice sharp with shock, her eyes widening in disbelief.
The man, standing behind her, startled by her sudden outburst, jumped back, his face a mask of confusion. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice laced with a hint of annoyance, his brow furrowed.
"I'm looking for food, or any available ingredients. I was going to cook, but there's nothing here. Your fridge is boring!" she retorted, her eyebrows arched.
The man scratched his forehead, his annoyance growing. He had been expecting a challenging, even defiant, personality, but he had not anticipated this level of… chaos. "Because I don't often eat here," he replied, trying to keep his voice calm and even, despite the growing frustration that simmered beneath the surface. "Mostly I order food." He quickly glanced at the fridge, particularly at the black tumbler, a sense of relief washing over him as he noticed that it remained unopened. "Next time, if you want to eat," he said, his voice losing its calm composure, "just order online." He turned and left her standing there, her mouth slightly agape, her eyes wide with a mixture of amusement and exasperation.
"He is indeed bipolar," she muttered to herself, her gaze fixed on the man's retreating figure. L
"I hear you," he shouted from the counter island, his voice echoing through the empty space.
Alexandra, her eyes widening in surprise, turned back to the kitchen. "What? He heard me? How?"
She left the kitchen, her curiosity piqued, and wandered into the living room. The sleek, modern design was impeccable, but the overall impression was one of starkness and coldness, a stark contrast to the warm, vibrant atmosphere she preferred. She picked up the remote control, a smooth, metallic object, and turned on the TV. "Thank God he's not completely devoid of personality," she muttered to herself, her lips curving into a smile as she settled onto the sofa and clicked on the Netflix channel. The Twilight Saga flickered onto the screen, but Alexandra found herself distracted. Her stomach rumbled, a reminder of her hunger. She glanced at the kitchen, picturing the man in his room, the empty fridge, and the lack of food on the counter.
"I think it's time to order food, for me and for him. "
Ten minutes later, her food arrived, the aroma of garlic and cheese filling the air, her stomach rumbling in anticipation. But before she could dig in, she had a surprise in mind.
She went to the man's room and knocked on the door. "Hey, young man, get out here," she called, her voice laced with playful excitement, "I have something to surprise you." The door opened a moment later.
"What? You're disturbing my rest time," he said, his voice laced with annoyance. "Can't a guy get a moment of peace in this place?"
"Are you resting without feeding your stomach?" Alexandra scolded him playfully. "Are you trying to starve yourself?"
The man's brow furrowed. "And what do you care if I rest with an empty stomach?" He paused a second "It's not your business, is it? You're just a guest, a visitor. You don't get to dictate my life."
"Umm… I'm sorry," Alexandra apologized, her shoulders slumping slightly, her playful tone evaporating. She realized that she had crossed a line, that her intrusive concern had overstepped the boundaries. "I was just… concerned. I wanted to be a good guest."
The man sighed, feeling a pang of guilt. He'd been harsh, he knew that, but he was still adjusting to this unpredictable woman. "I'm sorry if I shouted at you," he said, trying to soften his tone, "But what's this surprise you've got?" He couldn't help but smile, a small, reluctant flicker of amusement in his eyes.
"You'll find out later. Just come with me," She took his hand, her fingers warm against his, and led him towards the dining area. "Close your eyes," she instructed, stopping just short of the table.
The man obeyed, he could feel the warmth of her hand, the slight tremor in her grip, the unspoken excitement that vibrated through her, a curious mix of nerves and anticipation.
"We're here," she announced, as the approach the dining table, "Now open your eyes."
He slowly opened his eyes th dining table, normally bare, was now laden with an array of dishes, a delicious feast of culinary delights: pasta, steak, vegetables and fresh, a salad bursting with colorful ingredients. He gulped, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Why? Aren't you happy?" Alexandra asked she thought the man would be pleased by her gesture, a small act of gratitude and friendship, but his face held no hint of joy.
"I'm sorry again," she said, taking a deep breath, her shoulders slumping. She felt a pang of disappointment, a flicker of doubt in her heart. She was about to put the food away when he stopped her. His hand reached out, gently closing around her wrist, his fingers warm against her skin. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, her heart skipping a beat.
"No, I didn't say I don't like your surprises," he said, his voice a low murmur, his eyes holding hers, a sense of sincerity. "It's just that… this is my first time to have so much food on my table. I'm not used to it." He paused, his gaze shifting to the table laden with food, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "But because you prepared it," he continued, his voice softening, his gaze returning to hers, "I'll eat it. Let's go." He led her to the table, pulling out a chair for her, and then taking a seat opposite her.
"What kind of foods are these?" he asked innocently, his eyes scanning the dishes, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension in his gaze. Alexandra giggled softly, unable to contain the amusement that bubbled up inside her. She couldn't believe this man, so confident and enigmatic, but so clueless about food.
"Why are you laughing at me?" he pouted.
"I'm not laughing at you because you don't know the names of these foods," Alexandra replied, biting her inner jaw to contain the laughter. "It's just that..." she paused, her eyes twinkling with amusement, "This is my first time to meet a rich guy who's not familiar with fancy foods. That pasta is carbonara, the raw beefsteak..." she pointed to each dish.
"So you know it already? Why are you laughing? It's not like I'm an expert in food."
"Yes, I know them and these foods have weird names."
The man, still a little uncertain, hesitantly reached for the beefsteak. He carefully picked up the steak, holding it close to his nose, and took a deep sniff. He hesitated for a moment, then cautiously took a bite, his eyes closing as he savored the flavor. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully, his expression shifting from uncertainty to a hint of surprise, then to a slow, satisfied smile.
Alexandra watched him, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. He was so… unconventional, so endearingly clueless. "You look hot while eating the steak,"
The meal was good and Alexandra, surprisingly, found herself enjoying the man's company, his unexpected innocence.
"By the way," the man said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between them, "When will you go home? It's not that I'm trying to hurry you along, but what if your mother is worried sick?"
Alexandra's expression shifted, the lightheartedness fading from her eyes, a shadow of sadness crossing her face. "Tomorrow, I think," she replied, her voice a mere whisper, her gaze drifting away from the man, her thoughts turning inward. She felt a pang of guilt, a sense of responsibility towards her mother, a need to reassure her, to answer the unspoken questions that had been building for years.
The man saw the change in her. "Whatever your problem is," he said, his voice a soothing balm, "Don't lose hope. Everything has a reason. Just listen to your mother. She'll guide you."
"Wow, is that you, Mr. Bipolar?" Alexandra teased, her voice a touch sarcastic, her eyes twinkling with mischief.
"Mr. Bipolar? Who?" the man asked, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide with genuine confusion. "What are you talking about?"
"You, of course. Seems like you have a mental problem, Mr. Bipolar." She bit her lip.
"What the fvck! I have a mental problem?" he exclaimed, incredulous, "Are you seriously accusing me of being mentally unstable?"
"Yes," she bravely pointed back at him. "Just now your mood changed, Mr. Bipolar." she couldn't stop laughing so loudly. before he could blow out the fire and shout at her, she ran out of the dining area
"Get ready for me," he screamed and chased Alexandra. He caught up with her and quickly narrowed her waist. He hugged her from behind. "Now pay what you have done, spoiled and mischievous lost girl."
"What the fvck? You caught me that fast? How?" she stammered. His strong arms, holding her close, sent shivers down her spine, her heart racing.
"You always make me crazy, woman," he whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. He licked her ear, his tongue a playful, teasing stroke against her sensitive skin.
"What are you doing?" Alexandra asked nervously, tried to pull away, but his grip was too strong.
"I'm just doing what you deserve," he replied, his lips curving into a mischievous smirk. He started to caress her back, his touch a delicious torture, a slow, seductive exploration that sent a jolt of electricity through her body.
"Wait stop," She held his hand to stop him from caressing, her back, feeling like she was going to lose her breath due to the overpowering flow of electricity in her body. His hand gives electricity inside her body. "I'm sorry if I called you Mr Bipolar." She bit her lips and took a deep breath and courage to face him. "I've been at your condo for a day but still I don't know your name. Can we introduce ourselves formally?"
"Fine!" he answered without emotion as he let go of Alexandra. He seems like he doesn't want her to let go.
"Alexandra Machiavelli 18 years old a writer who wants to correct all wrong descriptions of fantasy in the showbiz industry." She politely introduced herself to him and showed her hands in front of him to shake him.
"You are too formal, you look like introducing yourself in a scrapbook." he laughed, she is like a teenager writing herself on paper
"tsk, just introduce yourself. You talk a lot." she rolled her eyes.
"Okay fine, I'm Dimitri Laxano a 25-year-old and that's it."
"and what else?"
"I am a satyromaniac"
"What the!!".