twisted » á. morata & p. dybala

tres // success

I tapped my foot impatiently as I waited for Paulo in Vinovo. I was never the impatient one, so I guess it was not impatience I was feeling, but nervousness. I darted my eyes around me. I sat on a comfortable couch in front of the reception desk there. Everything was very minimalist. Black, white, glass everywhere. The sofas white fabric, the tables black, and the windows letting the sun illuminate the room. My phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket, disturbing me during my moment of peace.

"Ciao," I said bitterly to my phone after I answered the incoming call.

"Isabella, you have to come to the office in three hours," my father's highly annoying and irritating voice filled my right ear, and went out through my left.

"Hello to you too, father," I said even more bitterly, not bothering to conceal any bit of annoyance. "Why do I have to be there?" 

"There will be a meeting to discuss the newly empty Head of Public Relations position," he sighed heavily.

"Okay, do you need me to translate?" I pretended to be dumb and clueless.

"No, Isabella. How many times do I have to tell you to take the position and stop being a translator?!" He yelled at me and I had to pull my phone away from my ear.

"I can do whatever I want! If you're ashamed about your daughter being a translator, then you can stop working me altogether. If you don't need me to translate anything, then don't ask me to come," I yelled back and wanted to end the phone call right there an then, but I hesitated.

"Come on, Isabella. Being the Head PR is a big deal. Being a translator however, is not. You're the daughter of the CEO. You're my daughter," there was what sounded like desperation and defeat in his voice, but I did not feel a single slight of remorse.

"No, I'm not," I spat back and hung up before he got the chance to say anything anymore.

It hurt to think about everything. About work, about my dad. It hurt. Everything hurt. My head was pounding with so much thoughts and worries about everything, so I took a little orange bottle out of my bag and pulled out a tiny white pill out of it. I swallowed the pill raw without water and just the thought of the pill going down my throat seemed to help calm myself down.

"Are you sick?" I heard a low, grouchy voice ask from behind me. I knew who it was immediately. 

"Yes," I answered shortly, lying and not bothering to explain any further. "Why the hell would you care?" I snapped back like the total bitch I was.

"I was just asking," he folded his face and eyed me curiously.

"What?" I couldn't help but ask, seeing his face pulled into a weird look like that.

"Nothing," he said. A lie. "What are you doing here anyway?" He asked, but Paulo came from behind here and answered for me. "She's waiting for me. Go home, Álvaro," he said calmly, brother to brother. He knew I didn't like Álvaro.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Álvaro turned his gaze towards Paulo and waved each other goodbye before he walked towards the parking lot. 

"What was that about?" Paulo asked after Álvaro was out of sight. Thank God he didn't know anything about the pill that I took earlier.

"I don't know," I lied. I had a bad habit of lying.

Paulo seemed unconvinced, but he didn't push the matter any further. He beckoned for us to get to his car instead. "Ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go," we walked towards his car and got in. We had agreed to talk at a little café near Vinovo. During the drive there, we listened to music and didn't talk much. It was kind of awkward and I felt uncomfortable, but I shrugged it off. 

When we got there, there were some fans who asked Paulo to take pictures with them and also for his autograph. Some of them recognized me too, since me and my family's faces were always plastered on the local newspapers. I wondered what would be on the front pages of the local newspaper the next day. 

Turin's Wonder boy and an Accardi Billionaire Spotted Going On A Date In a Local Café. 

Juve's New Star Dating a Billionaire.

Not that I cared though, because I never gave a damn about what they all said about me. 

"Here you go," Paulo handed me a cup of coffee and sat down across the table from me. 

"Thank you," I smiled and took the cup from his hand.

"So, tell me. What did you want to talk about?" He asked, leaning forward and looking me contently in the eyes. His killer eyes made me want to squirm back and run away. They were really powerful, but also... caring at the same time.

"I don't know, I just want to get to know you better," I lifted my shoulders up and let them drop back down.

"Okay," he smirked, killing me inside once again. "So, how's the company?" He asked, politely starting a conversation.

I sighed and formed a tight-lipped smile. "The company is thriving. Me, not so much. My father keeps pushing me to be the Head of Public Relations," I answered honestly.

"Let me guess, you don't want the job?" His smirk dropped back down and only his eyes were alive and still staring at me.

"Nope. I studied linguistics in University, so I'm fluent in five languages. I really enjoy being a translator," I admitted and felt myself starting to open up to him, but something told me I wasn't supposed to.

"Wow, that's amazing," he said, bemused. "Well, I think that you should do what you love and you don't have to follow your father's desires," a smiled formed on his lips yet again, and he looked gorgeous and regal. He looked beautiful.

"Thank you," I said sheepishly and tucked locks of hair behind my ear. 

We ended up chatting for another hour at the café. We talked about the basics about ourselves, and I felt myself getting drawn into him. I felt comfort and safety, even though I'd only known him for two days. It was weird what I felt, because I'd never felt that way with guys before. We would've stayed a lot longer if there hadn't been a few paparazzis swarming the door of the café, trying to get pictures of us together. People must have tipped them off.

"Come on, I'll drive you home," Paulo offered politely after we decided to leave. 

"Okay," I gladly accepted, knowing it would've been unwise of me to hail a cab with the few paparazzis around. 

"I really enjoyed this. Do you maybe um- wanna do this again sometimes?" He asked, carefully choosing his words.

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. Just text me whenever," I smiled, and he did too. 

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what I call a success.