My Man

Chapter 5- Mimosas

*Brielle POV

This was it. The morning I would be sitting down for breakfast with Lars. The scariest, the sweetest, the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

"Claire, what the fuck am I supposed to wear?!" I'm freaking out as I get ready.

She chuckles, "how about nothing? That'd be hot."

I roll my eyes and decide to throw a couple things together, before doing my makeup super natural.

***
Walking into the restaurant, my breath is caught immediately. I catch eyes with Lars and damn I freaking missed his hot face.

Before I know what my body is doing, I'm running towards him. Yes, running, towards him.

In a flash, I'm in his arms. I breathe him in. 'I missed this so much,' the devil on my left shoulder thinks.

'BRIELLE, He's a murderer!' The angel on my right shoulder thinks.

"Brielle, please sit." He pulls out my chair and I sit down before he pushes it back in.

"Mr. Moretti, may I start you and your lovely date with anything to drink?" The server asks.

"Mimosas. Bottomless mimosas," I jump at the sound of my own voice. Well I guess my brain knows I need mimosas to get through the hard stuff I'm going to ask.

"And please, make them strong." Lars adds.

The polite waiter nods and scurries off to get the drinks.

"Please Brielle, just tell me how you've been. And don't you dare lie to me." Lars pleads.

Sighing, I answer, "not good, Lars. Not good. I'm struggling to sleep, I look over my shoulder at every turn, I either eat everything in sight or nothing at all."

Lars face drops, "are you at least still running?"

I shake my head. We are interrupted by the waiter bringing a giant pitcher of mimosas.

After he pours some in our glasses, I take a big sip.

"How are you doing, Lars?"

His face drops. "Not good Brielle. At all." Even he takes a big sip from his glass.

His eyes close and when they open, they're soft and pleading. "I miss you, Brielle. Please come home with me. Please be mine again."

That look makes me want to give right in. "You said I could ask anything I'd like," I mention. I need some answers first.

'Yas girl, get that hottie back,' the devil on my left shoulder says in my mind.

"Please, go ahead," Lars permits.

I pull out a piece of paper with my questions and clear my throat.

Loud, extremely loud laughter booms through the restaurant. Lars throws his head back, cracking up.

The restaurant goes silent and all eyes are on our table.

"Oh, oh my God, oh my God," Lars says, wiping the tears from his eyes.

The restaurant goes back to being busy and loud.

"You brought a list? Oh my God I love you so much."

I blush at his words, and spend a few moments laughing myself.

Clearing my throat I continue, "yes I did. Okay number 1...you said you're the head of the American mafia. Explain."

"My grandparents came over from Italy, years ago. Back in the day, they were in charge of the Italian mafia and were some of the originals to bring it to New York."

He pauses to let me take it in.

"Slowly, they gained control over all the other important families, the police, small gangs, etc. and my father took over. He passed it down to me, as his only living heir."

"Okay, so what does that all entail? Like what are you involved in?" I ask back.

"Drugs, mainly. I control the shipments of things like weed, cocaine, ecstasy. Local gangs take care of distribution. I also have a legal sex worker house..."

He's cut off my by sharp inhale.

"Brielle, these girls sign up for this. This is what they want to do in life. They enjoy spending time with their clients and their clients respect them whole heartedly. It's a profession for them."

As hard as that is to hear, I have watched interviews of those women on Facebook. They do willingly do it, and enjoy it.

"I also do things through my legal businesses. Use my connections and power to control construction in the city. Own bars, strip clubs, casinos, and restaurants to launder money through."

'He's a criminal,' the angel on my right shoulder reminds me.

"Okay. Next, why do Eva's brothers and her have tattoos similar to yours?" I ask my next question.

"So I have the grim reaper tattoo. The grim reaper is a symbol of a person that appears when it's your time to die. And that's who I am, I represent death. The legend is, crows serve the grim reaper. They deliver the warning before it happens. Which is why all my men and their families have it. Think of it as a sign of respect."

"Okay. Third question. Would you ever hurt me?"

The hurt in his eyes is clear. I shouldn't have asked that question. But his tone and his seriousness confirms my suspicions.

"Never, Brielle. I'd rather die." He answers.

And just like that, all logic goes out the window.