Young LoveMature

Fallen Angel
Chapter 2
“Machiavelli’s Villa”

         “Hi, is this the Scott residents?” Amara asked as the other side of the phone line was given life. “Hi Amara, guess what game I got today?” answered a young boy’s voice who Amara knew as seven year old Kreaden Scott. “Is it a Lego game?” “No, guess again” “I do not know, I give up...yes you most certainly win.” Amara sighed reluctantly, mocking defeat at the hands of the jubilant child. “The new Speed Freak game SPEED FREAK L.A.!!!!” “Uh wow, truly how ever did you manage that? We will most defiantly have to play it the next time I am over!” Amara promised before asking if she could speak with one of the youngster’s parents. “Hello Amara, how are you?” the much older and authoritative male voice inquired. “Good afternoon Mr. Scott.” Amara replied as she closed her eyes at the touch of Hawk’s lips on her neck. “I was just phoning to inform you sadly that I would find myself incapable of fulfilling my duties as babysitter for young Kreaden this evening, I am but very sorry.” “No, no not at all Amara, we would never expect you to want to drive in this weather. Although, since I have you on the line with me, what about tomorrow morning you and Hawk come by for brunch, say around ten0-thirty or so?” the retired Canadian Peacekeeper invited. “That sounds marvelous indeed, though I am admittedly unsure if we will be able to make it, truthfully we, Hawk and I, are not in town at all.” Amara confessed meekly “Oh, where are you, didn’t get caught in that storm I hope.” “Gosh no, we are merely spending the night in Taciturn by order of the fine Police Service.” “Ok, that’s good then, make sure you two stay safe, and take your time driving back in the morning it will be hellishly icy.” Mr. Scott advised before ending the call.

             “Welcome to His noble King Sire Lothario L. Machiavelli’s family Villa. I am Sir Lothario Machiavelli the seventh at your service.” A voice addressed from behind the two lovers’, their lips embedded together. “Yeah...hi...we....we were told to come here by the R.C.M.P on account of the roads being closed heading to Glace Bay.” Hawk stammered awkwardly feeling a little light-headed (as he often did after kissing Amara when she was in a particular mood.)  “Yes, I am aware, you are to be sleeping here tonight and as such my family’s house is as you’re own, and I as your brother.” “Well I have no quarrels about this house being of my own, but I truly pity you my mere brother.” Amara fluttered, obviously flirting.

The twenty thousand square foot four story mansion was beautifully laid out with all modern appliances, furniture, and contemporary artwork.  The main level was a masterful display of dumbing down the overwhelming size and offered up a very cosy feel that closer resembled that of a cabin. The second level was designed so that it wrapped three hundred and sixty degrees around the main level. This level held four bedrooms two with en-suite full bathrooms in addition to two more half baths. The two biggest rooms were also completed with walk-in closets that Amara immediately fell in love with. Finally, the third and uppermost story was clearly intended to be bombarded with natural sunlight by dome shaped windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. When Hawk asked Sir Lothario why he hadn’t showed them the basement however, he was met with a stern look and the answer “no one’s ever allowed to go down there!”

“Sir Lothario? Who is this picture of, she really is unspeakably beautiful, and surely she must be a beauty queen.” Amara asked pleasantly pausing in front of a large portrait depicting a very attractive young woman who looked around the same age as Amara. “Ah yes, that is my younger sister and yes she is a fashion model, rather she was until she sadly took her own life a few years ago...in the shower in your room actually Mr. Smith.” Lothario answered solemnly. Hawk, who had been losing himself in the girl’s sky blue eyes, felt a cold, sharp chill run down his spine at the mention of her untimely death taking place in his room for the night.

             The next few hours were passed chatting and listening to the stories of Italy from the Knighted seventh generation Machiavelli. Hawk found he specifically interested in the stories of Lothario’s family history, and was keen to ask questions whenever the young house owner would make mention of it. Amara on the other hand, was mesmerized by the ever apparent Italian/British accent. “So your family bought this land in the thirties?” Hawk inquired. “No, sorry, that is when we moved here from Milan, Italy. We didn’t move to Shadow Island until my mother first became pregnant with me.” Lothario corrected dreamily, his eyes in some far off place, not in the house maybe not even in the Western Hemisphere.

“Do either of you have any food sensitivities that I need to know about before I prepare our evenings meal?” Lothario finally asked after several minutes of dwindling conversation and eventual silence. “I am cursed with the unfortunate allergy of nuts, including coconuts.” Amara admitted clearly disgusted with the fact. “I shall be sure to refrain from any and all nuts in my cooking. Hawk, allergies yes?” Lothario smiled reassuringly at Amara then casting his gaze upon the well built Hawk shaking his head “no.” “Well, why don’t you two go get washed up and showered, you’ll find towels already hanging in your respective bathrooms and clothes in your dressers ready for you to use.” Lothario suggested although his tone of voice made it seem more of an order then an optional endeavor. Amara waited until her and Hawk were standing in front of her bedroom door before taking her lover by his arm and whispering “please Hawk, stay not farther than an arm reaches length away from me tonight, I trust him not.” The fact that Amara had used Hawk’s name made it painstakingly obvious that Amara truly was fearful of the mysterious man who was busy working away in the downstairs kitchen.

             Hawk could just faintly hear the sounds of Amara’s shower and smiled at the thought of being able to watch her if he could before stepping into his own shower. It was an utterly eerie feeling to be standing naked in the very spot where Sir Lothario’s sister committed suicide, so eerie in fact that Hawk decided against having a shower at all and dried off saying a short prayer and exiting the bathroom saying “I’m sorry I didn’t mean any disrespect.” Upon examination of his hair f in the mirror that hung overlooking the massive dresser he decided it looked like he had showered long enough and got dressed, still shaking.

Amara, who was in the next to last year of schooling for behavioural psychology was thoroughly enjoying allowing the water from the shower head message away at her shoulders and neck. A sudden knocking at her bedroom door jolted her back into reality and she cursed herself in Portuguese for being as relaxed as she opened the door to find Lothario standing in front of her. Amara needed less than a couple seconds to figure out that the man she had been flirting with merely four hours prior was now blocking her only escape route to safety. Amara, thinking fast knew that she could never match the powerfully built Italian’s strength, and instead decided to play on the element of surprise and acted as though she was glad to see the man five years her elder and kindly let him in. When the man’s advances came Amara pretended to take Lothario’s hand in hers but instead used the outside edge of her right hand to deflect Lothario’s hand to the side before drawing a deep breath and kiaing[1]as she pivoting with her hips with blinding speed and striking the side of Lothario’s neck with the heel of her hand recoiling just as quickly to maximize the impact. The sudden maneuver left the youngest member of the Machiavelli family stunned and jelly-legged. With the strength advantage now squarely in her favour Amara swiftly clasped both hands behind her assailant’s neck, using the leverage to wrench Lothario’s head downwards toward her body as she drove her left knee into the point of the Italian’s chin exhaling sharply as knee and jawbone met in the middle. Amara smiled slightly at the sight of the man’s eyes rolling backwards into his head. Hawk, who had heard Amara’s Kiai and came running now stood in the doorway chuckling proudly as he helped his beloved girlfriend to her feet. Not wanting to take any more chances the two sprinted down the spiral staircase and out the door to Amara’s Toyota Supra. “I do not think I should be driving honey.” Amara admitted as they reached the driveway that held the pearl white car.

[1] A Kiai is a yell used in martial arts before throwing an attack to gather strength and to shock the opponent. It is a yell that starts from the bottom of the stomach and gains volume as it rises.

The End

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