Mariella grew up in the foster care system, abused every day until she found solace in the most unexpected form; Mateo, the son of an Italian mob leader.
Fate brought the two together, but when it tears them apart, how is she supposed to cope? Espe...
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I rest my head lazily against Mateo's chest while he calls someone. His fingers run up and down my hand while his others hold his phone. He continues talking on the phone heatedly, trying to stay quiet, not realizing I'm already awake.
The conversation woke me up and the past fifteen minutes of trying to fall back asleep have been useless. My mind won't rest despite all of my efforts. Vivi and Angel are supposed to be visiting, but I have no clue what time it even is.
"You know what? You're out. I expect you and your family to be gone by the time I'm back. If I hear any word of you causing trouble, you'll all be dead." Mateo spits out in a harsh tone from above me, causing me to go inch slightly. The way he threatened whoever was on the other line so emotionless was terrifying.
Obviously, being so observant, he noticed my movement. Placing his fingers under my chin, he maneuvered my head to look at him. His eyes stayed narrowed as he began questioning me.
"How much did you hear?"
"Just the last part...who was that?" I ask curiously.
He exhales heavily, his gaze finally softening, "You should have told me you were awake."
I shrug, "I don't have to. You didn't answer my question, though."
He tilts his head as if not expecting the attitude I spoke with. He shakes his head slowly, probably considering whether or not he should tell me.
"Just some piccolo Bastardo. He lost," he makes air quotes with his free hand while rolling his eyes, "a big shipment."
(T: little bastard)
"Can you just get some more, I mean, there's gotta be a way? Did you have to threaten him and his famiglia?"
(T: family)
"That's the thing, you can't just lose drugs, Mariella. He's lying and he's gonna get what he deserves for it soon." He explains impatiently.
I nod in understanding, although I really don't. It's kind of hard to comprehend a whole family dying for one's mistake. I'm no longer used to the whole crime thing, especially not how casual people are when discussing it.
It took me long enough to adjust to everything when I first started hanging out around Mateo. He always talked in a different manner, and every other word was a swear. The only thing I understood right away is when he would start mumbling to himself in Italian. The shock on his face when he realized I knew what he was saying was priceless.
My first social worker that worked with me for over three years was fluent in Italian and would sometimes teach me words and phrases. Eventually, all of the teachings added up and while I'm nowhere near fluent, I can make out most of what people say. She was the only one of many that actually cared about me and got me out of abusive homes. There was a point that I was getting taken out of so many because of the abuse that seemed infectious among foster parents that the agency fired her.
