Marrying Mr. Mafia

Chapter 3

Ellie

"Where are you taking me?"

"You've asked me that 10 times already. I'm not telling you."

"Fine then." 

"Have you ever had Chicken in Crostata?"

"I've had fried chicken, baked chicken, chicken soup, chicken pizza, and other various normal chicken dishes. What the fuck is a-- i'm not even going to attempt to say it."

"Well it's about time for you to explore some authentic Italian dishes."

"Like spaghetti?"

"Just shut up, Ellie."  

I smiled and sat back in my seat. 

"I don't know what you're smiling about."

"So I can't smile?"

He looked over at me and a smile of his own formed.

"Did you know your smile is contagious?"

I looked down at my fingers as the played with the hem of my shirt. 

"You need to be watching the road."

I looked back over at him and his eyes were on the road but his smile remained on his lips. His phone began to ring and when he looked at the caller ID, all emotion was wiped from his face.

"Sì, padre," He took a pause for the other person on the other end to respond. "Sarò lì in una volta."

He hung up the phone and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"I'm sorry, El. Something came up. Is there somewhere I can drop you off at? I'll come pick you up later."

I looked at him and thought about giving him my address. 

"Just drop me off at the coffee shop."

"Eleanor, what's your address." It was less of a question and more of a command. His accent was thick and his beautiful green eyes were back on me.

It was kind of sexy. So I gave him my address.

-

When he pulled up to the old apartment building with the children playing in the gutters and the old men gambling on the front stairs, he turned to me.

"Why were you scared to give me your address?"

"I mean, look around, love. You stay in this beautiful penthouse with all these bedrooms and a freaking maid. We play rock, paper, scissors to wash dishes in my house."

"Eleanor. Despite of what you have seen, I didn't always stay in a big fancy house. I moved to America when I was five years old with my parents and sister. We had no money and we stayed with my uncle. The four of us shared one bedroom. Don't ever be ashamed of where you come from, regina."

His story was beautiful. But he will never know the pain I am going through in that house. A part of me wasn't ashamed that I stayed in the ghetto. I was more scared of him seeing my family.