62. Change of preference...

Days rolled into weeks, and the weeks went by, and neither of them saw the other. Zeno had refrained from going to the DeFalco mansion as he used to, making sure that he had no reason of sorts to be there.

If he had any business that would take him to the house, he'd have Marco take care of it for him. Even when Edoardo would send for him, he'd make up an excuse to turn down the invitation.

He was still angry with Marco, and barely talked to the man, the only thing they discussed was business, his entire demeanor grew darker, he'd become colder than usual, and he'd fired more people in the space of weeks than he had done over a year.

He was never friendly with his staff, but it was clear to everyone who worked under him that he was angrier than ever for some reason that they did not know.

He made his work his entirety, drowning himself in the affairs of his wine company, hotels, and casinos in the morning, and at night taking care of his business as the Mafia boss.

Luna, on the other hand, lived in the darkness of her room, not even opening up the windows for the tiniest of light to creep in. It was like a Batcave, dark and quiet.

She barely ate anything, barely did anything other than lay in her bed all day long, underneath the sheets. It was a miserable life, every time she slept, she'd dream of nothing but him, his smile, his laughter, only to wake up and hear the resonance of his harsh words.

She felt pathetic, and she hated herself for being like this, for still thinking of him even though he had already told her how he felt about her, ``disgusting.

So she stayed in her room, hoping that one day she'd wake up and realize all this was just a bad dream. And if that never happens, then at least she hoped that one day she'd wake up, without hearing his mocking voice in her head.

"Boss, we found Frankie," Marco says as he walks in. "I'll send some men to take care of him"

"No, I'll go with them." He plainly says, his hands in his pocket and his eyes glued to the window as if there was something out there that he wished to grasp. "And, arrange me a girl for later…" He deadpans.

"What kind?" Marco blurts out, over the past weeks, he had no idea what the man wanted anymore. He'd bring in a woman just the way he liked them, but then in the next five minutes, she'd run out crying or trembling like she was in there with a demon.

So he had to ask this question, if his preference had changed, at least he needed to know what kind of woman he preferred now.

"What do you mean by that?" He turns from the window and looks at him with murderous intent.

"I mean, what kind of woman should I get you? You've rejected every single one of them over the past weeks, so I'm not sure what kind of lady I'm to get you this time? Short, tall, dark, fair, slim, fat, blonde, dark hair, what kind of woman do you want?"

Zeno looked at the man in front of him, and his insides began to boil with anger. Angered by the fact that Marco's question was ridiculous, and yet sensible. Angered at the fact that he hadn't thought of it since, but now that he had someone point it out to him, he realized he seemed to have had a change of preference.

All the women Marco got for him, or the ones he himself met at parties or in a bar, were exactly the kind of ladies he needed to satisfy his ``beastly needs, as he would call it.

Long Blonde, robust in the right places, tall and fair, beautiful women. These were what makes up his ideal kind of sex partner, and yet every time he found himself utterly disgusted by them, that he could not even stand breathing in the same air as them, more or less touch them.

It was like his ideal type of sex partner had switched overnight. Now all he saw each time he held a woman close was her shoulder-length blue hair, short figure, slim body, small breasts, tiny hands..., his beautiful Luna. And once he realizes she isn't the one in his arms, he instantly feels disgusted by the woman next to him.

``It's just Lust, it's just hormones, he told himself over and over again countless times, telling himself that as the days go by, he'd get over the feeling, telling himself that keeping a distance between them would help wash away the burning desires.

Telling himself that it was just intoxication, like hot spirit, nothing more, and like spirit, the feeling would eventually wear out.

But he was wrong, being away from her for days and weeks, only intensified the feeling.

He became even worse, his insomnia had gotten out of hand. At least previously, the alcohol was a sleeping pill for him, but over the past weeks, no matter how much he drank, no matter what kind of drink he took, he just couldn't fall asleep.

And even if he happened to sleep, he'd be awake in the next hour, sometimes he'd just be overwhelmed with a splitting headache, nothing was normal.

Dan-a wasn't even in his dreams anymore, maybe because he couldn't sleep for long, maybe if he could get more sleep, he'd get a glimpse of her.

Everything was just not the same anymore…, "mm-hmm" Marco clears his throat aloud, pulling Zeno back to reality. "So... boss, what kind of Lady should…"

"Forget it, there will be dozens of women at the party later tonight." He deadpans. "Tell the boys to get ready."