❝ Arrivederci...
mi amore. ❞
La Passione: one of the most dangerous and feared gangs in Italy.
Serving as a capo, Bruno Buccellati has whatever anyone's heart may desire: money, drugs, power, and women.
When he...
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The warmth of his arms wrapped around my body soon grew to be uncomfortable, and I began to shift around on the mattress, gently pushing his arms off of me to successfully avoid waking him up from his peaceful slumber as well.
It seemed to be that Abbacchio scowled most of the time — or perhaps it was simply a bad case of resting-bitch-face syndrome. But either way, when he was sleeping, he seemed to be more at peace, dark violet lips slightly parted as he gently snored away.
If I wasn't careful, I could spend the entire day admiring him as he slept.
I wondered just how exhausted he truly was, to fall asleep so early in the day so easily.
"Sweet dreams, Abbacchio," I smoothed a strand of his hair away from his perfectly-lined lips, my hand resting briefly against his cheek for just a moment.
I knew he shouldn't be sleeping in my bedroom for too long, in case Buccellati came home, or someone wanted to check in on me in the room. But I somehow just couldn't bring myself to shake him awake, to tell him he should rest in his own room.
All of that, however, changed in a second when I picked up my phone from beside my bag.
"Shit, shit," I muttered, closing my eyes and re-opening them again to check if my eyesight was correct.
It wasn't possible that it was already practically four o'clock in the evening. I swore that I only rested my eyes for a minute, but I must have somehow drifted off in his arms without even really noticing it myself.
"Abbacchio, wake up!"
I grasped at his shoulder, gently shaking him awake. And when he didn't seem to acknowledge me, I repeated my words a bit louder, shaking him a bit harder.
"The fuck do you want?" he muttered, turning away from me and resting his arm over his eyes. "I'm fucking tired. Give me two more min —"
"Abbacchio, it's already almost four in the evening!"
Immediately, his eyes opened wide, before beginning to scramble off the bed, taking up his own phone that apparently had been shoved deep into the pockets of his pants. "Fuck, dammit!" he hissed, running a hand through his long hair before he looked again towards me. "Just . . look. I'll just sneak out, and we'll never talk about this again. This was a complete fucking mistake to begin with."
He gathered up the makeup he had brought with him, while I opened the door to my bedroom, holding it open for him. "Yeah, here. Sorry, I should've woken you up earl —"
