The Boss (2P!Italy x Reader)

Chapter 5

YOU WERE TEMPTED to unstrap your seatbelt and jump out Luciano's Ferrari, but he was going over eighty miles per hour and it'd be a damn shame to get dirt and blood on your new dress. Flesh can regenerate and bones can be pieced back together but this gown cost you a fortune and it won't be able to mend itself.

You dragged your palm over your face. With a groan you ordered yourself to focus on the more important issue at the moment.

You snuck a glance of the "issue" from the corner of your eyes. His normally sleek hair was tousled but at least it wasn't dripping anymore, and he had changed into a different suit, but he left the jacket on the backseat and rolled the sleeves to his elbows. He was yet to speak a word to you.

You stared at your lap. You couldn't believe that you pushed a Mafioso off a bridge. (Thank God it was a shallow pond and not a river.)

A lump formed in your throat and you gulped it down hard. Even if he was unharmed from that stunt you pulled despite it being an accident, there was still no guarantee that you'd live to see the next sunrise.

"[Name]"

You squeaked and straightened your spine to as much as your seatbelt would allow "Yes?"

There was a pause in the air before he chuckled "You're afraid of me" Yeah, no shit.

"I can't tell if that's a question or a statement"

"It's an observation." He said "You've been tapping your fingers on your knees since I entered the car. Plus you're doing your best to avoid eye contact" You didn't notice that until he pointed it out. You curled your fingers into fists to stop them from tapping.

You cleared your throat "Does it bother you that I'm afraid?" Because it was definitely bothering you. The AC was on but you sweated so much you prayed for your deodorant not to fail you now.

"I'm used to people being afraid of me, it gets pretty boring. But there are times when it's amusing. The way you shake is so cute, you're like a puppy."

He just called you a dog.

"Fuck you"

Your body lurched forward, your head almost hitting the dashboard. The tyres screeched as the car swerved to a sudden stop on the side of the busy road, receiving angry honks from the other drivers. Only then did you realize what you just said.

You slammed both hands over your mouth, regretting the five glasses of Chianti you had. You wanted no more than one but Luciano insisted even though he himself only had a sip.

Ice drenched your blood and seeped out your skin. French tipped nails dug into the skin around your lips.

Sometimes your mouth was faster than your brain...Sometimes you wished you could sew it shut. And sometimes you just wanted the Earth to swallow you whole.

See, this was why you didn't enjoy drinking when with other people: all those etiquette lessons on self-restraint? Gone. You would lose your senses. Of course with your luck you had to lose them during the most inappropriate time.

You just used the f word on Luciano, someone who could kill you and drop your corpse into the sea and no one would be able to touch him, not the cops or a judge.

Beside you he was still clutching on the wheel. You waited for him to talk.

A minute of silence passed.

You unclenched your fists. This was awkward. And terrifying. Tonight's dinner threatened to rise up your throat, maybe from the physical spin or the emotional stress, but it didn't matter as you pursed your lips tightly. Bile and leather did not go together, and you were sober enough not to give Luciano a third motive for murder.