Ruthless love

Chats

"Alessia there is some people I would like you to meet" my father gestured to a crowd assuming my here for me.

"Meet the Valentino's, and the polish mafia "

After some talking we got to the another Italian mafia.

"Alessia meet Roman" a tall curly black haired Italian stepped foward. Giving me an old sense of deja vu, it's like staring at my brother.

Roman had deep blue eyes and to top it off was in a fully black suit with tattoos.

Talk about eye candy.

"Ciao Bella" Roman took my hand and kissed the back of it.

"Typical c**zo ragazzo"

"Alessia behave!" My father scolded.

"Not when all he is trying to do is get into my panties!" I complained, my father looked angry and the Romanos looked mortified by Romans actions.

A few generations later this is where we are now in Italy.

"We're sorry Mr.Ricci-" the woman spoke

"It's okay but Alessia behave we are having dinner with them." I sighed in defeat that there would be no worth in arguing with papà.

"Sì" I followed my dad and the Romanos into a separate room with a booth with red velvet chairs.

"Order whatever you like from the cooks Alessia"

"She should order a salad" Romano remarked.

Screw whatever my dad said I am doing this my way. I took out my gun that I had received from the Romanians this evening and pointed it at his head.

The Romanos looked p*seed but it just made it funny as I chuckled evilly "Tell me to order a salad again and I will not hesitate to blow ur brains out over this table.

Enough for your dear old parents across from us to see, and you wouldn't like that would you?"

My dad looked angry and Romano just smirked
"Of course Bella, but put this gun down" he grabbed it from my hands and slid it back into the holster my dad had on his side.

"Alessia what the caz*zo were you thinking"

"romano comportă-te!" The old woman screamed.

"I don't suppose you speak Romanian Alessia?"

I ordered a scotch from a waiter and said "No but I speak 10 other languages and none of them is kiss a*s" I rolled my eyes.

The cook came over taking our orders and giving drinks.

After some small chat the cook came with our food. Steak and mash potatoes with red wine for my dad, Alfredo pasta and scotch for me, may not go together but who cares.

I know Alfredo isn't Italian it's Italian-American but even though I was born in Italy some American food is still good.

As for the Romanos the don and lady ate pasta dishes probably as a sign of respect. And for the stick in my side he took a steak and French fries.