The Mafia's Jewel (BWWM)

35

Leone and I decide to explore a nearby town. It's nestled in the hills surrounding the Monte mansion, offering a charming mix of rustic and modern Sicilian life. The streets are alive with the sounds of laughter, music, and the mouthwatering scents of street food.

We start our evening by bar hopping, visiting quaint little taverns and stylish lounges. The first bar we enter is cozy and dimly lit, with an old jukebox playing classic Italian songs. We order cocktails and toast to the beautiful day we've had so far. Leone wraps his arm around my shoulders as we sip our drinks, his thumb gently tracing circles on my skin.

After finishing our drinks, we wander down a cobblestone street lined with food stalls. The aroma of freshly baked bread, grilled meats, and sweet pastries fills the air. We stop at a stall selling arancini—crispy, golden balls of rice filled with cheese and meat. Leone insists I try one, and the moment I take a bite, I'm in heaven.

"This is amazing!" I exclaim, savoring the rich, savory flavors.

Leone chuckles. "I knew you'd like it. Sicilian street food is the best."

We continue our culinary adventure, sampling cannoli filled with creamy ricotta and crunchy pistachios, and sipping on freshly squeezed lemon granita. With each bite and sip, we share stories and laughter, enjoying the simple pleasures of life together.

As night falls, the town lights up with twinkling fairy lights strung across the streets. We walk hand in hand, taking in the vibrant nightlife and the picturesque views. The moon hangs low in the sky, casting a soft glow over everything. It's a perfect, romantic evening.

We eventually decide to have dinner at a charming restaurant with outdoor seating. The atmosphere is intimate, with candlelit tables and a view of the bustling town square. We're seated at a corner table, away from the noise, allowing us to talk in private.

"We'll be leaving tomorrow," Leone says as we settle in.

I feel a pang of disappointment. "I was kind of having fun," I admit.

"I know, but I've already sorted out what I needed with my papa," he explains.

"And what's that?" I ask, trying to delve deeper.

"Family business," he replies curtly, his expression darkening slightly.

We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of the day's events hanging between us. I decide to broach the topic that's been on my mind since we arrived.

"You didn't have to introduce me to your dad," I say softly.

Leone sighs, his gaze fixed on the candle flickering between us. "I wanted him to meet you. I wanted him to see the woman I care about."

"But he didn't accept me. Because I'm American," I say, my voice tinged with frustration.

Leone reaches across the table and takes my hand. "It's not about you, Jules. It's about him and his prejudices. He's always been like this. He's never approved of anything I've done."

I squeeze his hand, feeling the tension in his grip. "Tell me about your childhood, Leone. What was it like growing up with him?"

Leone leans back in his chair, his eyes clouding with painful memories. "It was... tough. My father is a hard man. He demanded perfection in everything. And when he didn't get it, he was ruthless."

I listen intently, my heart aching for the little boy he once was. "Did he ever... hurt you?" I ask hesitantly.

Leone nods, his jaw tightening. "Physically, emotionally. He had no limits. My mother tried to shield me, but there was only so much she could do. She was my only source of comfort."

I reach out and touch his arm, offering silent support. "What happened to her?"

Leone's eyes darken, and he looks away. "To this day, I think my father killed her. He drowned her in the ocean because he thought she made me too soft."

A chill runs down my spine at his words. "That's terrible, Leone. I'm so sorry."

He takes a deep breath, struggling to keep his emotions in check. "It's something I've never been able to prove. But I know, deep down, that he's responsible. And I've had to live with that knowledge every day."

As we continue to eat, the conversation between Leone and me grows even more heartfelt. We talk about our dreams, our fears, and the things that have shaped us into who we are. Leone shares stories of his childhood, the rare moments of joy he found despite his father's oppressive presence. He tells me about his love for the sea, the freedom he felt when he was out on the water, away from his father's control.

I share my own stories, too. My upbringing in America, the challenges I faced, and the people who made a difference in my life. We talk about our hopes for the future, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a sense of possibility.

Leone reaches across the table and takes my hand in his. "Jules, you've brought a light into my life that I never thought I'd find. Being with you makes me believe that I can overcome anything, even my father."

I squeeze his hand, my heart swelling with emotion. "Leone, you've shown me a side of life I never knew existed. And I'm grateful for every moment we've shared."

He smiles, his eyes softening. "I'm glad you feel that way. I want us to build something together, something beautiful."

We continue talking, savoring the intimacy of our conversation and the delicious food. The candlelight flickers, casting a warm glow over our faces, and for a while, it feels like we're the only two people in the world.

After a while, Leone excuses himself to go to the bathroom. Left alone, I pull out my phone and start taking photos of the restaurant. The ambiance is perfect, and I want to capture the memories we're making. I take a few shots of the elegant décor, the twinkling lights, and the beautiful table setting.

As I'm reviewing the photos, a waitress approaches our table. "I hope you enjoyed your meal today. Let me know if there is anything else you would like," she says with a friendly smile.

"Actually, can we get another round?" I ask, not looking up immediately as I continue to scroll through my pictures.

"Of course–"

I glance up to thank her, and my breath catches in my throat. The waitress's dark brown eyes and curly hair matches my shocked gaze.

"Amara?"