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The Italian Director Next Door (CASTELLANO SERIES #1)

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Blurb

Uptight, arrogant and workaholic Elizabeth Danvers is the Chief E. of one of the best selling fashion magazines in the world who gets her perfect little world turn upside down when she realizes that her next door neighbor that she loathed so much turned out to be her coworker, to be exact-the new Director of her company. She thinks he's a hobo and p*****t and hates his taste in music.

Despite all that, Ethan Castellano lived for all her reactions because no one else was able to do what he does to her & no one else was able to make her feel what she feels for him.

You may think they're able to keep their personal lives and work apart since they were adults but being adults didn't stop them from getting on each other's nerves It didn't help either since they were working and living by each other next door and their walls aren't exactly sound proof.

No parts of this story is allowed to be copied without my written consent or permission.

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Chapter 1
        Manhattan, New York. 5:25 A.M. AT THE EARLY ASS c***k OF DAWN.   "Namaste." I chanted with my eyes shut, clasping my hands together as I breathed in and out steadily, clearing my cluttered mind, ridding any thoughts of my work load and that part of me being single for the longest time. Rock music, why do I hear rock music? Where the hell was it coming from? No no, no cussing Lizzy, inner peace. I reminded myself. "Namaste." I chanted twice.  I couldn't make out the exact lyrics since the singer mostly screamed through the entire verse and that fuelled my annoyance even further. And then there was a long pause. Good, the mental torture was over. That’s where I..was wrong. Another track began to play and my eyes were open wide as saucers as of right now. I crawled up from my mat in agitation and put my ear towards the wall, trying to make out who that screaming monkey was. It was Britney Spears. God damn it, it was 5 in the morning and people should still be sleeping! The song ‘Three’ continued to blast itself on the speakers and I heard a male voice signing to it. “Ugh that insufferable...” my fingers mirrored the actions of strangling someone until I took a deep breath. “I can deal with this, its okay.” I told myself and I walked back towards my yoga mat. “Namaste.” I tried again. As I chanted even louder, so did the volume of the music increased. I slammed my hands against my yoga mat with my eyes blazing, glaring daggers at the wall in front of me. "Namaste over my dead body, that sick son of a  ..." I cussed. I got up immediately from my mat. This inner peace thing clearly did not work for me, not this morning. This is madness! I tripped over my dumb bells that I forgot about on the floor and fell face first onto the ground. I cursed even louder, words I’ve never read or seen in a dictionary were all tumbling out. I was fuming, raging to be exact. Ever since that person moved in, I’ve not had a single minute of peace over the weekend and I’ve waited all week long for this. Getting up, I pulled a sweater that I found lying on my sofa and threw it over my head. I head towards the door of my loft and flung open my door in rage, narrowing my eyes at my neighbour. Before I moved in, the realtors had reassured me that these walls were absolutely sound proof. I did not pay a million dollars in cash to jam to my neighbour’s horrible Spotify playlist, or at least I think it was Spotify but that’s not the point. I pounded both my fists against my neighbour’s door, once, twice. The music was still playing and I was losing my marbles in my head. After a minute or two, the door opened up a c***k and a hobo looked right at me. "Who is it?" Ah, now I can hear Miss Spears all loud and clear. "It's 5:30 in the freaking morning and you're having songs that scream bloody murder over your speakers? Of all days, Mr. what's-your-name, do you have to do it on a Monday morning?" I hissed, narrowing my eyes at him. Oh boy, I think I’ve forgot my manners back at my place. "Well good morning to you too, neighbour, why the sour face on such a beautiful woman?" he said as he pushed his door open wider. "Sour?" I scoffed in disbelief. I was so mad to even realize what he was wearing or what he looked like. "Sour face? Did you not realize what time it is? This is against the law and I'll have you sued for.." "Are you a lawyer?" he asked, his eyes widened and that’s when I realized, I may or may not have harassed a horribly dressed man. His beard was over grown and his hair was all shaggy and thick; he had bloodshot eyes, paired with a terrible mix matched clothes. Who matches dark green sweats with a purple? My goodness, is that Crocs that he’s wearing? He literally reminded me of Barney the talking dinosaur as of now. God, focus Elizabeth, how are you so easily distracted? "No, what does my profession have to do anything with the conversation we’re having now?" I countered his statement that he just made. "Yeah well, then stop bugging me. And you’re absolutely absurd, my music isn't even that loud, tesoro.” "Did you just cuss at me? What language was that?” “That wasn’t even a curse word, genius.” That’s it! I lost all my patience as I dragging this man by his arm right through my apartment and make him stand right at where I was doing my yoga earlier. His mouth formed into a big 'o'. "My music isn't even that loud" I parrot his words earlier and folded my arms across my chest. "Well, I gotta say..." he nodded thoughtfully and for a good minute there, his fingers on his horribly groomed beard. Good, and now he knows exactly what I mean and just as I expected, he was about to apologize. I waited, smiling smugly at him. "Those speakers are worth every penny spent! Do me a favour tesoro, please remind me to go on their website and rate them 5 stars, I must say, I am really impressed with Beats, come on Dr. Dre!” This hobo cannot be serious. My jaw dropped at his insensitive reply and I gathered whatever remaining self-control I had left in me to not hit him. "Get out. Now!" I ground out the words. "Geez, it's not like I can't hear you sing ‘My Heart Will Go On’ in the shower. If I was being honest, and I should be since you hate m choice of music that much. You sound like a mixture of cats mating and dog claws against heavy duty glass.” I gasped as I felt my face turn hot, it was probably beet red as of now. Do I really sound like that? Mom said I could sing like Celine Dion for crying out loud. Could that be a lie? "Get out now! I can't believe you, the audacity!" I hissed and he made a face at me. I scoffed at him. “What are you? Like 12?” “Well I guess now we’re even.” “How are we even? You play bad music and all I did was just…” “Sound as bad as my choice of music?” he offered. “What?” he chuckled as he took a step closer towards me and I took a step back. “Did you really think you could sound like Celine Dion?” “No...” I wavered. “Good, because if you think you did, then perhaps you can sing for me every morning, well unless, if you insist on me playing Britney every morning.” He shrugged. “I am most certainly not singing for you, you hobo!” I covered my mouth quickly after realizing what I said and that only further amused him. “I knew it, you’re one of those crazy fashion people who judges what people wore in public, well I’m sorry I’m not wearing a Chanel earring when I’m doing yoga.” My fingers flew to my ear and I narrowed my eyes at him when I realized he was so observant. “What do you know about fashion even? You look like you were dressed by a Sunday school teacher.” I shot back. That made him laugh out loud and shook his head. “Well, aren’t you just polite? What’s more when the realtors told me the people here would be friendly. I guess they were lying.” “Well they also told me that my loft would be absolutely sound proof but I guess we can’t always have what we want now, can we?” He waggled a finger at me. “You’re good, you should be a lawyer instead. Merely a Fashion Editor doesn’t suit you very well.” Wait, how does he know what I do for a living? But then again, I wasn’t about to tell him that he was right. I looked at the time and realized I was about to be so late. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, Mr. what’s-your-name, I need to get to work and there’s no way I’d let you linger in my loft while I get ready.” “Why not?” “Because!” I said, exasperated. “I don’t know you and I most certainly do not like you enough to have you hanging round my place.” “Well, the feeling’s mutual, Celine Dion wannabe.” He shot back. My jaw dropped. “Get out. Who even invited you in here in the first place?” “You did! When you went crazy Godzilla lady on me. You sure are feisty, but you’re definitely not my type.” “Good! I wasn’t counting on it.” “I’d like to hear you say otherwise someday.” “You can go on dreaming about it.” I said sarcastically as I pushed him towards the door. He was surprisingly well built under that ugly sweater of his but I brushed my thoughts away. Elizabeth, rule number one, don’t hit on your neighbour. Well he most certainly made that rule easy because there were already three things I did not like about him. Horribly dressed, bad music taste and a sharp tongue. “Rest assured I won’t be inviting you to my house warming party.” “Why, because then I’d ruin your party of two with your dust mite friends?” I rolled my eyes. “Salty.” He chuckled. “Do me a favour, the next time if we see ever each other again, let’s not say hi and ignore each other.” “Oh please, I myself was about to suggest that.” “Good!” “Fine!” “Splendid!” “Marvellous.” “Fantastic!” “By the way, your sweater is see through, love your yoga top by the way.” I looked down at my sweater and realized what I was wearing. Damn it Dior! I let out a sound of frustration before I slammed the door behind him, glaring at a random piece of furniture before angrily pulling out my sweater and swatting it towards the couch as I stomped angrily towards the shower. I breathed in and out for a good minute while I tied my hair into a tight knot mumbling incoherent cuss words at the hobo. I then made a mental note to never do yoga at least for a week after this. It was cardio in the morning from now on, maybe kick boxing to vent out some anger. I scrolled through my phone for my Celine Dion playlist and deleted ‘My Heart Will Go On’ out of embarrassment. Damn it hobo guy! You have now made me hate this song,   ** “Hold the door please!” I said as I rushed over, heels and all, digging through my bag for my phone. “Thank you.” I said without looking up the whole time.  "Wow you don't look as scary as you did earlier." I looked up when I heard the familiar voice, “Oh it’s you again. I take my gratitude back.” I made a face and dug around my Celine tote for my car keys. “You are so petty tesoro.” “What even is that word?” I looked up again after grabbing my keys. My apparently hearing impaired neighbour (whose ears were still able to function well despite his horrible choice of music) was in sweats and a windbreaker and was he jogging on the spot. “A secret.” He smiled. "You look absolutely ridiculous right now." I countered, the longer I watched him, the faster I felt a headache on its way. "Your fashion sense today is absurd." he shrugged. There it was again-absurd. "I must say, that gigantic bag does your curves no justice."  My jaw dropped and instantly shielded myself from him. "p*****t!" He ignored me and smirked. "I assume you prefer screaming instead of talking like a normal person, si?"  "You know what? I can't even stand being in the same elevator as you, I'm taking the damn stairs, p*****t!" I jammed my fingers into the elevator button and the second the doors open, I stormed out. I sent him a glare before making my way to the emergency stairs. "I hope you don't smell like bad tuna after your perfume wears off with all that sweat." "I hope the elevator gets stuck on your way down, you perv!" I clearly ran out of insults to spare, huffing as I made my way down the first flight of stairs. I literally just moved in here less than 3 days and this is what I had to deal with? ON A MONDAY MORNING??   A prank instantly popped in my head and I removed my heels and threw them in my tote. Thank god for unusually big handbags—shame on you, who’s the absurd one now? Running down the stairs with bare feet, I quickly made my way to the next floor, pushing open the heavy emergency door and race to press the lift button. "Good luck stopping on every floor, you shaggy dog." I smiled evilly. I'd like to say my stamina was pretty good for a 27 year old, however, after 6 floors of running in and out of the emergency doors, I was panting like a mad fool. He was right, I was sweating like crazy, but thankfully I was able to change into whatever I wanted. After all, like he said, I was a Fashion Director at my company. ** "Woke up on the wrong side of bed chief?" my secretary, Sophia asked as she placed a stack of thin silver files on my desk. I fanned myself after spinning around in my chair, switching on my Mac. "Don’t even ask. So some hobo looking guy had just moved into the building last weekend and has been blasting horrible, horrible music through his speakers!” “Aren’t the walls of your loft sound proof?” she asked, placing down a Coffee Bean cup next to the stack of folders. “That’s what I thought. Get me the building manager’s contact or something, no wait, I need to speak to that realtor who got me to buy this place.” "I'm guessing your meditation didn't work this morning?” I didn’t answer her as I continued. “Can you actually believe that nerve on that man, how dare he? Cats mating sound with dogs’ claws on mirrors?” I scoffed as I recalled those words he had said to me, slamming my hands on the glass desk in front of me. “First time! That was my first time ever being told like that by a man I do not even know!” I raised my hands in the air in frustration, getting up from my seat. Sophia stared at me, still waiting for my answer and I calmed down for a bit. "Did it look like yoga worked at all Sophia?" I pursed my lips together, twisting my hair into a top bun, planting my hands on my waist, taking a deep breath. “Well on the bright side, he’s got out all the frustration you have for today, because brace yourself, you have a three hour meeting with the shareholders today, another with the Manager at Media department and I’m guessing I’ll have to reschedule your gym session for this evening?” she asked, flicking through her iPad. Sophie was always at the top of her work and I was absolutely grateful for it. “Damn it.” I cursed, sitting back down. "Well anyways, here is your agenda for today and also, also I was told by Human Resources that the Director from Italy is joining the board as of this week. He will be arriving tomorrow morning." my secretary informed as she placed two lilac coloured files on my table. What? I love a good colour scheme. "What does his profile say about him?" I asked, flipping through my schedule. "It was a last minute notice; I haven't had time to put together his profile. All I know is that his name is Ethan Castellano and his name rolls off my tongue very, very easily. Also, a huge plus because he’s a sexy Italian hunk" I rolled my eyes. "He's probably 69 and too old for you." Sophia chuckled and tapped my desk. “I wouldn’t be so sure about that, that’s why I took it upon myself to google him—and you know how seriously I take my job. And guess what I found—my predictions were right, he IS an Italian hottie." Sophia slid her iPhone across my glass desk and a picture of a very handsome man appeared on the screen. "But this is your screen saver." I stated, staring at the photo longer than I should. "I made him my wallpaper and just by looking at it gives me the motivation to work harder." I wanted to laugh but I remembered, I too, was young once and I was all boy-crazy. "Well regardless, I want his profile on my table tomorrow first thing in the morning. That's only because I'm sending you off right now, magazine catalogue meeting starts in 10 minutes. I need you to do the usual." "Yes chief!" Sophia saluted me and sprinted out of my office to her desk outside. The room next to my office had been empty for a full month since the last Director had left for a better placement in Canada. It was about time since a new one took over. I held my phone in my hand and I spun around in my seat, stopping at my massive glass windows and I squinted. Not too far away was a large digital advertisement display board previewed the new fragrance from Britney Spears and I groaned in annoyance, these people can’t be serious. It’s following me everywhere. I thought for a bit at our little encounter back at my place, that word he had called me in the midst of our little petty bickering. “What was it again?” I whispered as I tapped my phone against my lap, thinking hard. “Ah, tesoro.” I spun back around and typed in the words quickly against the keyboard and Google never seems to disappoint. Darling, sweetheart. I scoffed. The balls on that man to even call me that. That was Italian. He spoke to me in Italian. He also had a heavy Italian accent. “Ew, I did not just think of him.” I made a disgusted face and waved my hands around, dissolving the thought bubble around me. Or maybe, those were the only words he ever knew. I most certainly hope this was the last I was about to see of him. And that was how my Monday morning went. 

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