Going After Heaven (Mafia Romance)

Chapter Twenty Nine

How are you feeling?" Gabriele asks as we step into the elevator scrutinizing me from head to toe. His eyes like laser burning as they seep.

From my ginger red waves packed in a ponytail to my barely creased eyebrows from strain. His eyes meet my eyes for a quick while then move to my matte coffee brown lips, down to my neck with my pulse thrumming a mile a second and my throat flexing from the dry air I've been swallowing. He doesn't stop there, his eyes travel down my bottle-green body-fit gown, to my twitching pinky around my clutch.

"I'm fine," I lie.

As much as I am excited that Black Rifle finally took the bait, I hate being thrown out of a plan. I like order. I like to make a plan and follow that plan. I am so much of a freak that I even make up to ten other plans for casualties. Meaning I think of possible casualties and make plans for them whenever I make a plan. And it has worked for me. It has worked for me every single time. It has kept me ahead of my time. Ahead of my enemies.

Now I don't feel ahead of Black Rifle. I feel like I'll be walking into a trap.

"Talk to me" he takes a step toward me and I flinch, moving away from him.

The last thing I need is his calm or distraction. I don't want to feel his calmness or that peace he oozes. I don't want to have him tune my body to start burning for that distraction he gives that I now crave. Even with all of this, being so close to him is doing things to me. But I have to shut him out. I want to stay alert. I want every sense I have working fiercely.

"Take me to the forgery," I say as the elevator stops and we step out of it.

Going to my place feels like a waste of my time. The one place I truly want to be is at the forgery. I want to relive some things and take them with me, plus the fact that I still have to finish the weapon I was making.

I had thought I would spend the whole of tomorrow doing that, but now I have limited time to settle all pending business.

As we make our way to the car, the night wind feels clingy against my skin. Like a sheath. Attempting to push into every pore on my skin.

I feel Gabriele's large gloved hand pull me by my free wrist and I lose it.

"Take fucking orders for once in your fucking life!" I growl as I turn toward him, fighting the urge to punch him in the fucking face for overstepping every fucking goddam time.

He doesn't flinch. You'd think he has no soul. You'd think he doesn't function on blood and water like everyone else.

With an unaltered face, he says, "what will you have for dinner?"

Dinner? Who gives shit about dinner?

"You haven't had anything all day" he lets go of my wrist.

"I am not hungry" I grit.

What is his deal? Why does he care if I eat something or not? And who fucking cares about food now?

I don't want to eat. I rarely even eat on good days and now with this news, I doubt I'll even want anything in my stomach except coffee and rum.

"You will eat, so start thinking about something you'd like to eat or I'll buy a restaurant tonight and have them bring every damn thing on their menu to the forgery" he pins my stare so I know he is not fucking around.

Buy a restaurant? Has he lost his mind? Who says that to get anyone to eat?

"Have you lost your..."

"Yes, yes I've lost my mind and you don't want to know how far gone," he says and moves away from me to open the door for me.

Yes, you have. A point of no return far gone.

He has lived up to the name I called him the first day I met him. He is a madman.

I climb into the car and buckle up. The madman climbs into the driver's seat.

For the kind of things he says, one will think he walks with his head instead of his feet.

I pout and keep my eyes on the road ahead. My mind is dancing from Black Rifle to my mission now seeming impossible because the Mist which is the place for meeting Black Rifle is double swamped and busy on Fridays compared to every other day of the week. Then my mind veers to what I want to have for dinner.

Gabriele adjusts to pull out his phone from his pocket and do a quick dial, keeping one hand on the steering wheel.

"Find a restaurant that wants to sell within thirty minutes and buy the goddamn thing"

I almost jump out of my seat.

"Don't you fucking mess around with me" I scowl.

What the fuck kind of joke is that?

He presses a button and the receiver says "yes boss".

Gabriele ends the call.

Yes, boss? He is serious. He will buy a restaurant just to get me to eat.

"Tacos de barbacoa" I grumble. He doesn't bulge or respond to me. "Tacos de barbacoa, that's what I'll have for dinner" he still doesn't say a word as he swerves into the street where the factory is located. "The last time I had them was twelve years ago in my mama's kitchen, it was a favorite and part of the menu for thanksgiving and there's nothing I'd want tonight than that" I exhale, feeling my chest tighten a bit.

I lost myself that night. That happy always throwing jokes and hardly ever angry kid no matter what her little sister does died with my parents that night.

Gabriele pulls out his phone and makes a quick dial.

"Find the best taco de barbacoa, especially the one made with homeliness and buy it out, I'll pick it up in thirty minutes" he ends the call.

"You didn't tell him not to go on with buying the restaurant"

"I didn't have to"

"So he won't be buying it?"

"Let's categorize that as impulse buying"

He has lost his mind. No doubt.

The factory gate opens as the censor approves our entry. He drives into it and my mind drives off.

His looks, his attitude, now his wealth, how is he willing to sacrifice all of this for only a few million dollars?

Why is he doing this?