Marrying Mr. Mafia

Prologue

Ellie

"Tell me Eleanor, why do you feel like you don't belong?"

I looked in the eyes of Patricia Lovell, as I took a big breath and released my frustration.

"I have lived in the same house with the same people for 18 years. I feel like everyone looks at me like I'm growing a third eye. It's been that way since I was five. I always asked myself, what did I do to be treated like this?"

She wrote in her little notebook and clicked her pen. She leaned forward and pushed her glasses up on her face.

"Have you asked Mama why the others treat you like that?"

"She says they are jealous. That they wish they knew what happened to their parents. I try to reason with them, but they just," I shook my head and stared at the big window beside my comfy chair. "they just pretend like I'm an outsider. I just want out. I've been looking for a place to stay in the Bronx. That's where my parents are from."

"Eleanor, are you sure about this? You don't even have a job."

"I know but I've been looking for one. I have an interview with a coffee shop downtown in two days. I know what I'm doing Ms. Lovell."

"Are you sure, El? You are still on your medication. What if you forget one day and black out? Then what? Look, you are still young. Don't you want to go to college?"

I rolled my eyes at the thought of more schooling. I barely made it out of high school, why would I want to go somewhere that I might drop out of in the same week?

School might be a good idea for everyone else, but for me? It was a waste of time and money. And Ms. Lovell knew my stand on it.

The little alarm on her desk went off, signalling the end of our session. I stood from my chair and grabbed my bag.

"Think about what we talked about today, El. I'll see you in a couple of days." She held the door open for me and I left her office.

~
James

"I told you to handle it." My father stood from his desk and made direct eye contact with me. "If you can't handle a simple exchange, then how in the hell do you expect me to hand over my title?"

"I'm sorry, father. I'll handle it."

"You said that last time. Do you remember what happened last time?"

"Yes, padre. Mi dispiace deludervi."

"Leave my office."

I stood from my chair and turned away from my father.

"And son," I peeked over my shoulder. "the next time you mess with my money, avrò la testa su un bastone."

"Yes, father."

~

Chapter Translations

Mi dispiace deludervi: I'm sorry to disappoint you.

Avrò la testa su un bastone: I will have your head on a stick.

I hope you guys enjoyed this. I'm sorry about the length but it'll get longer. I promise :)