peach flavoured ✔

𝑒𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉

Marcello had been in her last period of the day, meaning that he's who she sat next to - she wouldn't have, but he pulled her down onto the seat and dragged it right beside him, leaving no room for discussion.

When class ended, she headed for the bus, but he pulled her back and sat her into his car, she didn't know what car it was, but it looked expensive.

They sat in silence before Bambina questioned, "How's your arm?"

"What?" He looked at her oddly.

"You dislocated it when I first met you," she responded, still admiring the interior decorating of the car.

"Oh, it's fine, I've had worse." He gave a sideways glance to the small girl.

Due to her size, any onlooker would never have guessed that they were only one year apart in age.

"As long as your ok," she nodded.

"I'll be ok whenever you're around." He flashed a cheesy smile.

She liked it when he smiled.

Trying to hide her own smile, she looked out the window, seeing the world flash before her, "I don't want you living in the maids building," Marcello began driving faster.

The sky was a mix of cotton candy pink and blues, Bambina loved it.

"What? But where am I supposed to stay?" Was he going to kick her out?

"With me, in the main house, and you will not be doing any maid work," he replied.

"I can't," Bambina shook her head, her hands forming an intricate knot on her lap.

"And why not?" He looked and sounded calm, but anyone could tell that he was anything but.

"I don't know you, and I still have my zia to worry about," she spoke carefully and slowly, making sure not to say words that might further upset him.

"Your zia will be fine, and you really have no choice in this matter." Bambina frowned.

Upon seeing their Don, the security guards opened the gates, bowing their head in respect as they passed.

This was the first time Bambina had seen the front of the mansion, there was a giant roundabout in front of the door, a fountain in the middle, flowers surrounding it.

The house was tall and intimidating, windows above the large front door, from the top of it to the top of the second floor.

Marcello stopped the car and got out, opening Bambina's door as well.

Thanking him quietly, she marvelled at the house with an open mouth. He placed his hand at the small of her back and led her in, servants bowing their head as their Don passed them.

"They really respect you," Bambina mused, not at all paying attention to where Marcello was leading her.

"They know who I am and what I can do," he shrugged simply.

They knew his capability of killing anyone who even looked at him in an odd way.

They knew how lethal he was.

They knew he could do whatever atrocity he wanted and make it look an accident, or worse, someone else's fault.

Because of the latter talent, many people who did something that the Don did not like, were falsely accused and put in jail, or worse, found drowned in a tub, at the bottom of a tall building, or even with a rough noose around their neck in the living room for their family to see once they got home. He was ruthless and didn't give a fuck about others' feelings and they knew it.