❝ 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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All while bracing myself, I waited nearly agonizingly long for Abbacchio to leave the general dining area, peering around the corner through the blurred partition separating the two rooms.
"Aren't you going to go?" asked Trish, nearly spooking me as she leaned herself close to look through the partition with me. "There's nothing for us to do back here anymore, Buccellati."
"Yes, I know. Thank you."
"Hm. Alright, you're the boss. You can do whatever you'd like," she said to me in her usually soft voice, with a slight hint of a bite to it this time. "But you know you would only be hurting yourself and the rest of everyone here if you do what your heart so desires. I don't think you need me to remind you of what could have happened not too long ago."
My eyes focused not on her, but instead remained upon the cloudy surface of the glass, tilting myself away from her. "I understand, Trish. Thank you for reminding me."
"Yeah. Whatever. I'm going shopping later. Do you need anything?"
"No. I'll be quite fine."
And with that, Trish soon disappeared from beside me, and the haze of pink from her dress faded from the dining area outside. Only the dark haze from Miss Taylor's hair remained past the partitioning door, still remaining as she continued to finish her breakfast.
Glancing down at myself, I flattened the edges of the white suit's lapel, smoothing every inch of the suit down as a long exhaling breath left me.
"How was the coffee?" I asked with a smile, stepping through into the dining area. "Did you enjoy it this morning?"
"Oh! I love it, Buccellati. Thank you for making it for me," she answered, returning a bright and full smile as she pulled the mug towards her. "It's very lovely."
The mug was still a little less than half-full; she was nowhere near finishing the drink. "Would you like other drinks as well? We like to drink coffee along with our meals, but perhaps you would like something else instead."
"Ah, no, it's okay! Really," she insisted, her cheeks flushing a light shade of pink. "I really do enjoy how you made this coffee. I'm just not used to eating breakfast, I think."
I frowned, clicking my tongue as I sat down across from her, unbuttoning the lowest button of the jacket I had on so as not to stretch the suit. "You're not used to eating breakfast?" I clarified. "You don't eat in the morning at all?"
"I . . Sometimes I don't really have time," she admitted, her voice hushed. "It's just a lot."
"Is everything alright? In America?"
"I'm sorry, but I would really rather not talk about my life in the states."
I pursed my lips shut, dipping my head downwards. "My apologies," I responded. "But still, you must eat every day as much as you can here. You are already practically skin and bone; you should really be gaining weight rather than the opposite."
