Raspberries #DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

Chapter 24- Back In Sicily, He Was A Morte.

Hello Pickles. How are you guys doing??? OH my goodness cows, thank you for the 2k reads. I am extremely happy. Sorry I haven't written in a while, I have been busy. Yes I do have a life. Woah. But anyway, sorry for the  major cliffy. I feel bad. Nah. I am an evil clown. I don't know if you have noticed this, but I actually do not swear, which is a bit of a disadvantage when it comes to writing expressive stuff. Sooooooo that is why I have replacements like Fudge, skunk, slug, horse etc.

Anyway enjoy....

Ivy's POV

Surprises. When the word comes to my mind I think of presents or gifts. I think of happy things like a 50 dollar note in the back pocket of your jeans, waking up to the smell of a delicious breakfast, getting a new car or even getting offered a free raspberry milkshake. Good.

But we don't usually think about bad surprises, do we? Like the death of someone, losing your favorite toy or losing your raspberry pie in the drain. Well I never really did.  

The word surprise to me is like a coin, 50% chance of good or bad, I don't think we even get a chance to decide which side we want. Bad.

And that's exactly what I got when I opened the door. Bottles of alcohol were scattered on the floor, I felt like I was walking through a maze when I took two steps inside. Their was an odd smell, that I smelt at parties. Mostly. Was it drugs?  I didn't know. His broad shirtless back was facing me letting me see the tattoos engraved on his back.

I didn't think he noticed me when I took a step. It was quiet, I was trying to be as quiet as I could. I ran my fingers through my hair, which was now getting more blonder, the red was fading out. I needed to get my hair trimmed too. Anywa- 

"Ti ho già detto che non ho voglia di parlare." His rough voice startled me. His native language gave me shivers.  I didn't even know what he was saying but it sounded pretty hot. I mean how cliché was this, The mafia leader was Italian. And also he was a badass. I mean he puts the ass in badass. (I already told you that I didn't want to talk.)

I stared at his back like a pervert, god shouldn't it be illegal to be this hot? I should say something, shouldn't I?

I first cleared my throat trying to come up with something to say. To be honest my throat was sooo dry like I felt that if I were to speak my throat would feel as if someone rubbed a chainsaw through my throat. I can kind of imagine that happening.

"Carson?" My voice came out as a squeak like I was a mouse. Afraid. He froze at my voice. Stiffly he turned around glaring at me automatically.  

"Perché sei qui rosso ?" He asked me some random thing. What the heck did he say now? Did he not understand that I didn't speak Italian? God.

"Sorry dude, I don't even know what you're saying. I mean back in freshman year I did Italian for a whole semester, and guess what? I could only say hello. Can you belie-"

"Why are you here Red?"  He raised his brow waiting for his answer. I stared at his disheveled  brown hair, his reddish eyes, the stench of alcohol literally knocked me over. I moved my gaze down to his abs because once again I am a freaken pervert. The knife wound scar thingy was still there from when I kinda cleaned it.

"No!" My reply came out too quickly. He stared at me and waited for me to elaborate. "Why are you here?" 

"If you haven't noticed this is my room." He guested around us and I followed his hands and nodded.