Their Little Princess

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Thanksgiving comes and goes, Alessandro keeps it down to just us, I assume for my comfort, he doesn't want me to feel overwhelmed I guess. 

A few days later, Emilio lets me know Zio Alessio and Zia Cecilia's family is visiting before heading home to talk about business. I stay in bed until well after noon, feeling anxious about messing tonight up like last time. Except this time, I'm determined not to let my anxiety get the best of me. Instead, I distract myself by getting ready. I drag myself out of bed and take a 30 minute shower, I let the burning hot water try to relax me. 

As I'm finishing the last button on the back of my dress, there's a knock on my door, "Come in," I say softly.

The door opens to reveal Elijah, "Morning, princess. How're you feeling?"

"A little nervous. I want to do better this time. I keep messing up," I say nervously

The tense in his jaw dampers his smile a bit, but he maintains his smile nevertheless. I follow him downstairs but stop abruptly at the door when I see people I don't recognize walking around, Elijah turns toward me, "Hey, you okay?"

"Who um...Who are they?"

I still don't do well with new people, it makes me feel anxious and scared of the million things that could happen. I've had plenty of bad experiences having grown up not knowing who I can trust that presented itself in a case of really bad social anxiousness. And after what happened with mom's father, I'm scared to trust anyone.

"Those are just the cooks, they're setting up the food for later, because nobody will have time to cook today."

I think he must sense my hesitance, but before he can say anything else, one of the chefs walk over, "Good afternoon, sir. We're setting up the food table now, but realized you don't have a preference for pastries. Anything you'd like me to set up?"

"An assortment of everything you have," Elijah says.

"What do you think, young lady?" The cook says, turning his attention to me. My stomach drops, "I...Um..." I don't know! The possibilities are endless, I hate being put on the spot.

"Hey, over here," Elijah says to the man sharply, the chef attention turns back to him, "It's just me and you."

He nods, "My apologies. I'll get on the pastries right away, Mr. Rossi."

Once he walks away, I continue to stay in my spot. I'm not anxious over whether or not they'll like me anymore, I'm more anxious over whether or not I'll have an anxiety attack, which is making me more anxious and I don't want it to get too overwhelming to the point where I get to where I was at the restaurant. But I think I could do better since I'm in a familiar place.

"Anything I can do?" I ask.

"No, you can just relax until Zio Alessio gets here."

"Do you usually get cooks for guests?" I ask.

"We usually have cooks and personal cleaners around the house daily, there were a few here when you arrived, remember? We gave them leave until we were sure you'd be comfortable here," Elijah says.

"Oh," I say. I'm thankful for that actually, "Thank you for that."

"Don't mention it, we'd do anything to make you comfortable."

"Even let me dye your hair?" I ask. 

"Even let you dye my hair," He says.

"Really??" I say excitedly. I expect him to retract it, but he looks at me, a slight grin, "Really."

His phone continues to ring relentlessly, "Hey, I have to get this. I'll be right back," He says, putting the phone to his ear and gently nudging me toward the living room. I walk into the living room, Carlo is sitting on the arm of the chair on his phone. I sit on the couch and check my messages, Jess and Chase have been debating in our group chat for almost an hour.