Married to the mafia boss Series

Anastasia

Our bookstore trip didn’t go exactly as planned.

Walking into the penthouse after a long day, I have one heavy bag not including the two large bags Angelo is carrying. He insisted on carrying in all three bags, but I told him I didn’t want to risk him dropping them all and hurting my babies.

He sets down the bags on the coffee table in the living room. “Are you really going to read all these?”

“Who knows how long I’ll be here for,” I shrug. I regret bringing it up once I see the hurt in his face. “Gotta keep myself entertained somehow while you drag me to your boring office. You should really let me decorate sometime,” I tease earning a rewarding smile from him.

Suddenly the scent of chocolate cake overpowers my nose. I take a deep breath, my sense of smell heightened. My mouth salivates. Chocolate cake has always been my favorite type of dessert. I was only allowed to have one piece once a year on my birthday. The strict diet for ballet did not have chocolate cake on the list. My instructors frowned upon junk food. Chocolate cake felt forbidden.

There was a bakery not too far from the dorms and my roommate and I used to take walks past it. They always had treats in the window, one time including a three tier chocolate cake, and simply looking at it felt criminal. We were conditioned to associate dessert with consequence and punishment.

But for once I can fully enjoy a chocolate cake. I can stare and gawk and have as many pieces as I want and no one can tell me otherwise.

In the kitchen is a large chocolate cake, two tiers, round, and covered in pink frosting decorated with flower piping tips. Isabella is setting the table and I quickly take my seat anxiously awaiting the first cut of the cake.

Angelo can sense my apprehension as he stands to make the first cut. “Good?”

“Bigger!”

He moves the knife to make a bigger piece and places it on my plate. The inside has layers of chocolate cream cheese frosting. My fork dives in and the cake is perfectly moist. Before I salivate all over the place, I take my first bite moaning as I do.

I put down my fork long enough to sign, “This is delicious!” I take another bite and another and in a blink of an eye my piece is gone. When I look over at Angelo, I see he isn’t even more than halfway finished. “Do you not like it?” I frown.”It’s good. I’m just a vanilla cake type of guy is all.” The smile of his face is large. He’s staring at me as I lick some cake and frosting from my fingers.

“What?” I sign self consciously.

“You have chocolate all over your face.”Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

I’m mortified as I quickly reach for a napkin and dab around my mouth. I pull the white napkin back to see it stained with chocolate. I hang my face with embarrassment. I continue to wipe my face making sure there is not an ounce of chocolate left on my face.

Angelo is still smiling, chuckling even, when I finally look at him.

“Stop looking at me.”

“I can’t help it.”

A slight blush creeps onto my cheeks. He looks handsome today, more put together than he has the past few days. His hair is more controlled rather than the messy mop it has been. It’s neatly styled and slicked back. I notice he doesn’t have his hearing aid in. The suit he has on is different from his usual neutral colors. He has a light peach colored button up with well fitted light gray slacks.

“Do you want a second piece?”

I hold out my plate in response.

After Angelo is finished watching me devour my second large piece of chocolate cake, we head upstairs to the bedroom. I feel full and sated and I know that as soon as my head hits the pillow, I’ll be passed out.

Angelo takes a shower as I get on my pajamas and crawl into bed. I grab my book from the bedside table and try to read another few chapters before sleep claims me.

The words on the page transport me into a futuristic dystopian and I’m distracted by the plot until I see movement in the room. I lower my book to see Angelo shirtless. I watch his every move, his back muscles flexing as he looks in his drawers for a shirt. His bronze skin is still damp from the shower but I’m more distracted by how sculpted his body is. The definition comes from years of constant and extreme training. A fighter’s body.

A killer’s body.

I shake the thought from my head.

He looks over his shoulder and his eyes meet mine. “I thought you were asleep.”

I hold up my book, “It’s getting good.”

He walks over to the other side of the bed and crawls in, he picks my book up and reads the synopsis on the back.

“Tell me more about it,” he hands me back to book and lays on his back, arms tucked behind his head. He’s like a child waiting for his mother to read him a bedtime story.

I don’t know if he’s truly interested or not, not a lot of people I know like science fiction or fantasy. I know Svetlana has told me I sound like a nerd when I’ve told her about some of my favorite books. Nerds not a bad thing, I like being a nerd if that means I like fantasy books, but it made me feel disconnected from her. Like even though we were best friends, I felt like we were different species.

I sit up excited as I map out the entire plot of Red Rising by Pierce Brown getting off track to rant about certain characters and gush over others. Still, Angelo keeps all his attention on me hanging on every word I sign, seemingly like every word I say to him is interesting. I highly doubt it, I know I have a tendency to ramble about things I’m passionate about. He keeps the same smile he had on his face at dinner time when he was watching me eat.

“I don’t still have chocolate on my face, do I?” I raise my eyebrow.

“I like when you’re happy,” he signs. “It makes me happy.”My heart skips a beat. His lips look so kissable and my body won’t forget the electric feeling I experienced when our mouths were joined. The physical aspect of me is craving to lean in and steal another one of his magical kisses, but the emotional aspect of me is continuously warning me of the consequence and inevitable heartbreak.

You cannot fall for someone like Angelo Ricci, I convince myself.

It can only end one way.

And it will destroy me.