Bred In Violence (A Mafia Romance Book One) #𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝟏

Chapter 47

I don't feel homesick as long as you are here with me because you are my home.

~unknown~

Sophie

*Unedited*

"What does timo means?"

"What?" Bruno sits up abruptly on the bed, menacingly glaring at me for waking him up.

"What does it mean?"

"I have no idea," he groans, turning away from me. His chest is bare, and I don't want to think or even imagine whether his lower body is clothed any more than I want to be in his room, but I have to know. Raphael said it twice yesterday night while he made love to me. It wasn't the words exactly that were provoking the urgency to know; it's the way he said it.

I throw the book at him, startling him; he whimpers and childishly puts a pillow over his head.

"Piccola, I'm going to remove you from my room forcefully. Does Raphael know you're here?" he mumbles from under the pillow, his right hand holding onto it.

"No. He already left. Please tell me what it means. I tried googling it, but I think my spelling is incorrect. The results I'm getting are bizarre." I plead, marveling and endeared at his childishness.

"I seriously have no idea what that word is; leave alone it's meaning" He sits up, leaning back against the headboard. "Why can't you ask him?"

"I did, twice, both times he said it wasn't important."

"Maybe it's not"

"Of course it is. I know it is."

"You think he is lying?"

"I think he is coloring the truth" I'm seated on a beautiful blue velvet lounge chair directly opposite him, which is very contradicting to room setting though to be fair, the room had no style whatsoever.

We are sitting so comfortable with each other that if a stranger were to see us together like this, they would think we were having some kind of clandestine.

"How diplomatic of you," he laughs softly, almost wistfully. "What about Romano?"

"He is gone with Raphael, and I know Diego is not Italian; he would be as clueless as I am. That leaves you."

"Diego understands Italian." he insists, beginning to slid in to lie back down, like he was dismissing me. I stare at him unblinkingly. "Good for him, but I don't want to ask him. I'm asking you." I stubbornly tell him.

"Sophie, have you considered there is a reason why Raphael doesn't want you to know?"

Bruno rarely calls me Sophie. In fact, I can't remember a single day since we met that he has called me by my given name.

"I have considered that. But he doesn't always get what he wants. I need to know what he meant"

"Me too. I have no idea what timo means".He flashes me an innocent look while running his hands over his face. I could see the frustration on his face; I imagine if it were anyone else, he would have already drawn his gun by now, threateningly.

"Bruno, what does it mean?" He gives me a questioning look then a conceding look.

"How did he say it?" he asks, pulling his comforter up. I blushed, and he smirked.

"Oh. Let's say I figure out what exactly he meant; what do I get?"

"You're not figuring anything out; you already know the meaning of the words."