My Surrogate, My Love... (Mafia Romance, 18+)

Chapter eight

The pic above is of Costello and Giovanni...

I'm seated in my room, drawing the portrait of something. Sorry, drawing the portrait of someone. Yes, Leandro's imagine is exactly what I'm working on. You see, when I'm really frustrated, or angry, or just feeling blah, I draw. In this case, I just found myself capturing his image, particularly, on paper.

And I can't pinpoint why exactly, because I'm not experiencing any one of these emotions. Maybe it's the fact that he's imagine from today shirtless and all, hasn't left my head? Hell, not even Simon is that ripped.

I trace the outline of him, curve all curvings on the white sheet, as perfectly as I can. His wet black hair, his beautiful face, sharp jawline, powerful neck, broad shoulders and chest, the lion's head tattoo, bumpy torso, attractive v-line, his sweats hanging low on his waist that slightly reveal his briefs.

Once I'm done, I start shading all parts that require shading, up until I'm satisfied with my work. At least the guy had word of my passion for art, got me all necessary items to make artistic beauty.

My stomach begins to grumble, and immediately, I look up at the wall clock; twelve thirty. I need to go grab something to eat. I exit the room, pad down the long, insufferable spiral fleet of stairs, and finally make my way into the dining room.

Leandro's attention is held by the tablet clutched in his palms, fingers swiping up and and down, left and right. The two guys from yesterday are also present, each one busy sating his appetite in comfortable silence. And there are so many dishes and fine foods to choose from. My stomach grumbles once again, effectively alerting all three men of my presence, and instantly, all heads snap to face me.
"Must be starved. Come, sit," one of the guys invites.

I take in one long drag of the much needed air, then proceed to walk over to the table, sitting two seats away from Leandro.
"I don't bite, àmórè."
"But you strangle, correct?"
He doesn't respond, and I am genuinely glad, because that'd definitely spark an argument. The two guys stare at me like I grew myself an extra pair of eyeballs, but I could care fucking less what they'd have to say.

Graciously, I feel my stomach, stuffing my face, and munching on the foods, almost moaning at the burst of divine flavours against my tongue. Then, I finally look up, to find the two men ogling and gawking at me.
And that right there, is what I call fucking irritating.

"Why you looking at me like that? Never seen a pregnant lady eat before?"
Rolling my eyes in agitation, I resume from where I left off, the delectable meal. One's still eyeing me occasionally, only causing my irritation to spike.
"Boy, would you stop that? Busy acting like you just seen me grow two heads."

Now I have faithfully managed to capture the attention of each individual. Simply divine.
I can clearly paint out the faint, almost invisible smile curving on Leandro's face.
"Boss, the firearm shipment will be arriving today. Will you be coming with us, or will you let us take care of things for you?"
"Giovanni, I'll be coming with you."
"Yes, boss."

Both Giovanni and guy number two rise from their seats in perfect unison, excusing themselves shortly after. Now, I'm sat only a few seats away from the same man that'd tried to suffocate the living hell out of me yester night. I can't stand the very thought of our close proximity, neither can I tolerate the continuous plunging memories of his assault, so I just rise, take hold of my platters along with Giovanni's and guy number two's and tread towards the kitchen.

A short, petite, brunette female has her full focus on thoroughly cleansing dishes in the sink, and even as I offer to assist, I don't miss how she refutes my help with a curt no, eyes never making contact with my own. I won't argue with the young lass on the matter because, quite frankly, I have no energy within me to do so.