Mafia Princess

Chapter Sixty-Two

Twilight...not mine (sigh).

Chapter Sixty-Two

Edward smirked as he handed me my shirt. I put it back on, staring at him in shock. I decided to challenge him with my response. "Why don't you find out?" I giggled.

"I think we pushed enough boundaries for one night, Little One," he said as he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. "You going to button up or your luscious tits going to be on display all night?"

"You like them?" I asked, cupping them for his benefit.

He growled and walked over to me. Slowly, he pulled together my shirt, buttoning the same button as before. "I don't want to...behave, Isabella. I don't want to spank you," he choked out.

"I'm a bad girl, Mr. Masen," I cooed, rubbing myself on his body.

"Yes. You are. Now, I see food. Feed me, woman!" he barked, smacking my ass.

I yelped, giving him a playful glower. "I'm not your servant, Edward. Your scrawny ass is helping me." I took out a cast iron skillet and the pancetta. "Get frying, stud."

"I've got to put a shirt on," he snickered. "Grease and bare skin, not a good combo."

"And your skin is so pretty," I laughed, running my fingers along his smooth abs. "Fine. Put your shirt on but as soon as you're done with the pancetta, it comes off. Capische?"

"Si, senorina," he said, kissing me on the lips before walking to the stove and frying the pancetta. He slipped on his t-shirt. I pouted slightly as I readied the cheese and pasta. I hated that his beautiful body was covered. His chest was like the finest Italian marble, covered in the most perfect tattoos. I wondered what his lower half looked like?

On the other side of Edward, I began boiling some water for the pasta. Edward handled the pancetta perfectly, frying it to the perfect crispness. After he finished the pancetta, I switched with him and told him to watch the pasta while I made the cheese mixture. Once it was perfectly blended and the pasta was in a casserole dish, I poured the cheese and pancetta mixture of the pasta. Tossing it into the oven, I went to make a salad. Edward watched with rapt attention as I moved easily around the kitchen.

"You're really good at this," Edward said as he leaned forward on the counter.

"I love to cook. I just never really got back into it after my mom died," I shrugged as I chopped up some vegetables, putting them into a large bowl. "My mom was a horrendous cook. I mean, she made some foul nasty things growing up. Her food combinations were questionable at best, unpalatable at worst. So, I made the executive decision to take over the cooking responsibilities when I was thirteen. I did so every day until my mom got sick. Charlie hired Carmen then and she was with us ever since."

"Do you miss cooking?"

"Not really. I miss taking care of my family," I said sadly. "Even though my mom couldn't cook, she'd sit at talk with me about school and boys and life while I prepared the meal. Regardless of what my dad had planned, he was always home for dinner. Six in the evening, every day. We always at dinner as a family." I picked up a bowl and started pouring some olive oil into it. "Now, I can do that again. With you. We need to fatten you up. Too skinny."

"You'd still like me if I had a belly and fat rolls?" Edward snickered.

"I'd like you no matter what, Edward. While you're incredibly handsome, it's your heart that draws me in," I murmured, seasoning the olive oil, mixing in some lemon, garlic, salt, pepper and fresh basil. "But your muscles have muscles. The only guy that is more toned than you is Emmett and he's easily a hundred pounds bigger than you."

"He's also got four or five inches on me, too," Edward laughed. His face sobered, looking into my eyes. "Bella, you don't have to take care of me. I appreciate it, but I don't want you to think that you need to serve me."

"I know. I want to. There's one rule, though," I said. "I cook; you do dishes. Got it?"

"Yes ma'am," he said, giving me a salute. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Good. I hate doing dishes. It fucks up with my manicure," I grumbled, looking at my hands. "I'm addicted to nail polish."

"I kind of gathered that. Especially this one brand," he said, arching his brow. "Butter something?"

"Butter London," I answered. "Their polish lasts forever. It's expensive but so worth it."

"I'll take your word for it. I'm rocking the au naturale look," he said, waggling his fingers. "What do you think?"

I grabbed his hands and wrinkled my nose. "Your cuticles are a mess."

"At least I don't bite my nails," he snorted. "Emmett constantly has his hands in his mouth, gnawing on his fingers. It's kind of gross."

"Oh, his hands are awful," I groaned as I tossed my salad dressing onto the salad itself. I mixed it carefully, putting it on the counter in front of Edward. "In that hutch, there are plates, silverware and napkins. Can you set the counter?"

"Do you want anything to drink?" Edward asked as he walked to the hutch.

"Check in the wine cooler to see if there's any white?" I replied as I pulled out the casserole. I checked it and it needed a few more minutes.

"Which one?" he asked, holding up two bottles: a bottle of Verdecchio and a bottle of Marchesi. I pointed to the Verdecchio and Edward went about opening it, pulling two wine glasses out and placing them onto the counter. He poured us both a glass, putting the remaining wine into the fridge. I took out the casserole, placing it on the counter and spooning some rich mac and cheese into a bowl for each of us. Edward walked up behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. His fingers were on my skin under my shirt. "Thank you, Little One, for taking care of me." He kissed just behind my ear.

I melted and my heart exploded. Those words made me feel so much more for Edward Masen.

A/N: If you want the recipe for the mac and cheese, check my blog. I'll have it posted on there. Link for my blog is on my profile. You can also find me on Facebook: Tufano79's Twilight Fanfiction Appreciation, or on twitter: tufano79. Leave me some loving.