The Mafia's Jewel (BWWM)

36

I look at Amara, shock evident in her eyes as she processes seeing me here. "Jules..." she begins, her voice trembling. "What are you doing here? I thought you were in America."

"I..." Words fail me as I struggle to come up with a believable response.

"I don't understand," Amara continues, confusion etched across her face.

"I... came back," I lie, my voice weak.

"Why would you come back when you said you missed home?" she asks, disbelief in her tone.

I sigh heavily, feeling the weight of the secrets I've been carrying. "It's a long story," I mutter, glancing around to ensure no one is listening.

Grabbing her arm gently, I lead her to a more secluded corner of the restaurant where we can talk in private.

"Amara, it's complicated," I begin, my voice low. "I got wrapped up with... the Mafia. They're keeping me here because... because one of them, Leone, is in love with me. I have to play it safe so I can eventually find a way out without getting killed like the others."

"Woah, woah this is a lot," Amara says, her eyes wide with shock.

"Yes, it is," I reply, my voice strained with the burden of my situation.

"This guy sounds like a psycho. You should have called the policia," she suggests, her voice urgent.

"The police work for this motherfucker," I respond, frustration and fear lacing my words.

Amara takes a deep breath, her expression shifting from shock to determination. "Thank God I'm here to save you, again."

"Again?" I say. "It sounds like you have saved me from the mafia before."

"I'm Just saying, I'm the one who is always cleaning up after your mess."

Amara and I move away from the table, finding a quiet corner to talk. The tension between us is palpable, and it doesn't take long for it to boil over.

"You don't understand what I've been through," I say, my voice trembling with a mix of frustration and fear.

"And whose fault is that?" Amara shoots back, crossing her arms. "It's not my fucking fault."

"I told you to stay away from that pizza place because it was suspicious, but you didn't want to listen to me. Now you're in deep shit."

"How was I supposed to know Elio was working for the Mafia?" I retort, feeling my anger rise. "Because I'm fucking here. I've seen shit," she counters, her eyes narrowing.

"Then you should've warned me more," I say, then breathe out heavily, trying to calm myself. "You know what, I can fix this. I don't need your help."

Amara stops me with a firm grip on my arm. "See, there you go again, trying to fix it yourself. But you end up in deeper shit."

"Then what do you suggest?" I ask, my voice rising. Amara pauses, her expression softening slightly, but she doesn't have an answer.

"See, you don't have anything," I say, crossing my arms tightly over my chest, feeling the sting of tears welling up but refusing to let them fall. "When you're done, give us the check," I mutter before turning.

Amara stops me from leaving, her hand gripping my arm with a surprising amount of strength. We're becoming a little visible to the rest of the restaurant, and I can feel eyes on us, but I try to stay calm.

"Look, I'm sorry for lashing out," Amara says, her voice softening. "I just got sensitive because I had someone close who was a victim of the Mafia. I just didn't want you to end up like them."

I search her eyes and see the sincerity there, the pain of a past trauma she hadn't shared before. My frustration melts away, replaced by understanding. "I accept your apology, Amara," I say quietly. "I know you're just looking out for me."

She nods, her expression relieved. "There's only so little I can do to help you from here, but you need to hang on and make sure to keep in contact. Don't shut me out."

"I won't," I promise.

Amara leans in for a hug, and I embrace her tightly, feeling a sense of comfort in her familiar presence. But then her eyes widen, and she suddenly pulls away, leaving in a hurry without another word.

"Who was that?" Leone's voice startles me. He's standing behind me, his eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Oh, it was the waitress," I say quickly. "She was asking if we're done."

"Away from the table?" Leone raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

"It doesn't matter," I say, trying to brush off his suspicion. "Let's finish our drinks and get out of here."

I head back to the table, my heart pounding in my chest. Amara's abrupt departure and Leone's questioning gaze leave me feeling uneasy. We sit down, and I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself.

Leone's eyes are still on me, watching closely. "Are you sure everything's okay?" he asks, his tone softer now, but the concern still evident.

"Yeah, everything's fine," I reply, forcing a smile. "Just catching up with an old friend, that's all."

He doesn't look entirely convinced, but he nods and picks up his drink. We sit in silence for a moment, the tension hanging in the air. I sip my drink, trying to gather my thoughts.

"So, what did you think of the town?" Leone asks, attempting to steer the conversation to safer ground.

"It's beautiful," I say honestly. "I loved the little shops and the street food. It felt... normal. Like I could almost forget everything else."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," he says, his expression softening. "I wanted to give you a break from all the chaos."

I nod, appreciating the sentiment. But I can't shake the feeling that our peaceful moment is fleeting, that the shadow of his family's world is always lurking nearby.

We finish our drinks and leave the restaurant, stepping back into the cool night air. The streets are quieter now, the town settling into a peaceful slumber. We walk back to the car, hand in hand, the silence between us more comfortable this time.

Leone doesn't start the engine right away. He turns to me, his face set in a serious expression that replaces the warmth I once knew. The light from the streetlamps flickers across his features, highlighting the intensity in his eyes.

"Jules," he says, his voice low and steady.

"Yeah?" I respond, my heart skipping a beat as I meet his gaze.

He places his hand on my lap, his touch sending a shiver through me. The warmth that used to comfort me is now replaced by a sense of cold, menacing control. His eyes are hard, his expression fierce.

"My dear Jules," he begins, his tone both possessive and commanding, "You know, I will not hesitate to kill anyone who comes between us. Which includes that so-called waitress you were just speaking to."

His words hang in the air, pressing down on me. I stare at him, unable to speak, my mind racing to process what he's just said.

Leone cranes his neck. "Are we clear?"

I nod slowly, unable to find the right words. His hand on my thigh tightens, a silent reminder of I should never fall in love with Leone.