Married To The Mafia Lord

69. MR HANDSOME

69. MR HANDSOME

Strolling down the streets with Darian and the bodyguards, Lena felt safe between them. The long cemented poles illuminated the night thruway, giving everywhere a radiant view.

Lena smiled, it'd been months since she walked the streets on a night like this, and it felt so cool, and maybe cooler because she was with her man.

The night breeze slapped through her skin, leaving goosebumps on the veneer of her sleek skin. She shivered a little, and Darian noticed. He pulled out his jacket, wrapping it around her shoulders.

"Wearing this was a bad idea," Lena muttered, draping the jacket over her shoulders. Her eyes quickly scanned Darian's muscled arms, she smiled and fixed her eyes back on the road. "Where exactly are we going?" She asked, for the umpteenth time that night.

"Somewhere to get you out of the house. We are almost there." He said.

Lena nodded absentmindedly. Sometimes, she still imagined how much Darian had changed for her. Though he was still the tough mafia boss everyone knew him to be with her, he was the opposite. He was the coolest, the best human being in the whole wide world.

"Do you know that Lisa is a writer?" The loud screeching of a vehicle overshadowed her voice. Darian strained his ears, urging her to say those words again. "Do you know that Lisa is a writer?" She repeated.

"Oh, that?" He shook his head, "Now, I know."

"And she's writing a book about us. I told her not to, but she said you gave her inspiration. Your physique, your title as a boss and your demeanour the first time she ever saw you at our wedding." Lena chuckled.

"I didn't notice her that day," Darian said with a bored expression. He halted his steps when they arrived in front of a local tavern.  "We are here," he declared.

"Here?" Lena stared at him, her eyes twinkling. There was a tall billboard outside, indicating the name of the tavern. "Moonlight days," she read aloud. She could make out the sound of boisterous laughter echoing in the tavern as they stood outside on the tiled floor.

"Come with me," he grabbed her hand firmly and they filed into the tavern together with Dickson and Harrison.

Dickson and Harrison found a spot in the tavern. Darian ordered them to be alert and make sure their attention was focused on Lena and him even though they were going to drink. He warned them not to get inebriated, they were not allowed to, and they had to stay active to watch over the boss and his wife.

"Where is this?" Lena asked once they were settled on the low-back chair. Her eyes glinted as she surveyed the room—it was large, so large it contained about fifty people from the quick census Lena did with her eyes. Most of the men present were older men in their late or early fifties. Most of them had a young woman by their side, some had up to three women. They were chattering and laughing and the whole place reeked of local wine; the type her father used to drink with his colleagues at work whenever they visited him back then.

"A tavern, have you ever been to one?" He asked, his lips twitching in a smile.

"Not really," she said. "Why did you bring me here and how is this place somewhere you used to visit?" She looked at him.

"I brought you here because it's around the house, and I visit here more often when I need to think. There is something else that I like about this place," he got off the chair, "Come with me," he said, dragging her out of the room.

Lena didn't hesitate. The noise was getting into her head and she felt an impending headache. She wanted to get out of the room already.

Darian led the way into a secluded area at the far end of the tavern, his hands linking with Lena's.