The story of the seamstress who dressed the Bucci gang.
Takes place before the events of part 5.
Mostly a Bucci x oc but Mista slips in there sometimes 🤭
Curse word warning: contains lots of f-bombs
This book is not about horses 🤪
Lira wanted to cry when the alarm clock went off the next morning. She had gotten what? Two, maybe three, hours of sleep? She had spent the majority of the night just laying awake, too fucking horny and annoyed to fall asleep.
"Not in the caporegime's house." She had ruminated on Bucciarati's words all night. She fluctuated between being annoyed and being understanding. Right, it would be super disrespectful to fool around on this grandpa dude's couch-bed. But we've never even kissed! Bold of him to assume we would just go from 0 to 60 like that! I should have said, like, "Don't flatter yourself, buddy." Ugg, why didn't I say that? Ok, so he has boundaries, I respect that. But who does he think I am? And laying in his arms like this while he breathes into my neck doesn't do anything but make me horny.. which sort of proves his point... damnit
"OhmygodIwanttodie," she rolled over and groaned face-down into the pillow. A hand grabbed her arm. "Don't say that, ever," Bucciarati said seriously. "Wake up, there's coffee."
After breakfast with Pericolo, he surprised his guests with several things. First, he had washed their muddy clothes. Second, he called roadside assistance and had them get the car out of the pothole. Third, he presented Lira with a white gift box. "Since Tony Tortellini is staying at a beach house, I figured I'd get our secret weapon a little present," Pericolo smiled and handed her the box.
"Did you really get me something?" Lira's jaw dropped in surprise. "That's really not necessary!" she blushed.
"I thought it might be," Pericolo responded. Lira opened the box and discovered that "little present" was a good way to put it. She pulled out a tiny peach-colored bikini that was comprised of strings, metal circles, and small triangles of fabric. "Oh my," she tried not to laugh. Bucciarati began to blush and turned away covering his mouth. "Wow, thank you so much, Pericolo," Lira forced herself to say.
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"Jesus fucking christ," Lira said once her and Bucciarati were in the car and driving away. Bucciarati side-eyed her with a devilish grin.
"It'll look good on you," he said. "We're going to the beach, you know."
"No, I didn't know that until I was surprised with the 'present.' I guess that's one of the Passione secrets you couldn't tell me last night."
"Yes, we were discussing the mission. And no, he didn't mention the string bikini."
"So what's the plan, exactly?" Lira asked, softening her stance.
"Tony Tortellini has a villa up on a cliff near Amalfi. He frequents a beach near there to lay in the sun and pick up women," Bucciarati turned to glance at Lira. "The cliffside road between his villa and the beach is 2-kilometers long, and it's isolated because it was only built for this villa. It's perfect for an interrogation."
"So we just park in the middle of this dude's freakishly long cliffside driveway and wait for him to drive by?"
"I wish it were that easy. I mean, I don't think Lovecat would attach to Tortellini if he thinks you're a part of the interrogation."
