The Russian mafia princess and the Italian mafia king. It's a wise old mafia tale: they are each other's biggest competitor, but the heart doesn't see competition it just sees love... sometimes.
Sometimes the darkness just needs some light and the...
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So last chapter when I said we'll see this couple show their assassin side we will but it will be next next chapter I promise
*TW this chapter has mentions of an eating disorder, depression, SA, and suicide :(*
I've been told that I knock like I'm the police, you know when you knock so loud and so much you would hear the knocks even if you were having an Adele concert in your shower.
Normally I would disagree with that statement, but in this case, I would sadly agree with them, because I've been knocking at Opal's front door like she's under arrest.
It's been a month since my fair date with Enzo and we're moving -well fast. Since then, we've been on over a dozen official dates and way too many junk food filled movie nights.
I currently have all A's, a great group of girlfriends, my father's mafia is going perfect, an amazing man that is obsessed with me, my ass is nice and fat- but life isn't great.
Throughout the past few weeks Opal has been 'busy'. Busy with what exactly?
Ya, I don't know.
But busy has been her answer whenever we ask to hang out.
Busy was her texted answer when we grouped FaceTime.
Busy was her answer as to why she has to go when I call her.
I hate that word busy.
"Sweetie I don't know what he did, but if you kill him don't worry, I won't say a thing to the police when they show up," an older woman said as she passed me by.
Before I even had time to process what she said, Opal's small frame finally opened the door, before she had time to ask "what" I walked into her home more like marched and made the trip to her room.
"Marco,"
"What?"
"MARCO,"
"Opal, I'm in your room."
After a few minutes had passed Opal entered her room with 2 bottles of water, she tossed one to me before simply falling on the floor.
"You know you have a chair that's exactly 6 steps away from you."
"That's 6 steps too far, you already made me come answer the door to get you, that was too much already" she said while taking 2 fingers to each one of her temples and giving them a rub.
Shooting her a bewildered look, I ask her "Why were you screaming Marco?"
"I didn't know where you were," she deadpanned.
"Ok but why didn't you just ask where I was?"
"Because- why don't we just call it a culture difference, but when someone say Marco just yell back polo, ok?"
