My Unforgivable, My Unforgettable... (Mafia Romance, 18+)

Chapter Twenty One

I've had to put the above photos as proof of the research I did, before using the word 'Halal.' I am a fluent Swahili speaker, and I know that some Swahili words were borrowed from the Arab language. Still, out of respect, I took it upon myself to inquire from my Arab friends what the word 'Halal' truly means, before I used it in this book.

I'm currently lain on my bed, in a light oversized t-shirt, staring up at the ceiling. Once we got home, Psycho went into his room, and I was left to my own thoughts. I can't help the guilt that's chewing through my system. I can only hope he's taken his medicines, and that he's had something to eat, even if it's something light.

I prepared some spaghetti and meatballs about an hour ago, but I don't want to carry the food up to his room. If he hasn't eaten, then the medicines are more likely going to make him grow nauseous. I need to get him something to eat. I sigh deeply, hopping off the bed, and making my way past my bedroom door.

I walk down the steps, dish some food onto a platter, which I rest over a tray, then walk up the stairs, until I come up to his bedroom door. I support the tray in one palm, and knock using the other. Silence on the other end! I knock one more time, but nothing. Just silence.

I roll my eyes in slight irritation, turning the door knob. Psycho's on the floor, doing some press ups, completely ignoring my presence.
"Have you taken your medicines yet?"
"I have."
"Have you eaten?"
"Stop that!"

I stand rooted on the ground, tray still in hand. He gets up, then walks up to me, taking hold of the tray, and setting it aside on the little glass stool.
"You were almost taken advantage of this evening. Stop, just for a second, caring for me. Care for you. Have you eaten? Are you fatigued? Do you need a massage. Do you need to talk or inquire something from me?"

He pulls me by the wrist, and sits me over the bed, before proceeding kneeling in front of me.
"You remember that I owe you, right?"
"I remember."
"Then, what is it that you want?"
That's not a hard question to answer. I already know what I want. I look down at him, taking notice of the necklace I gave him on his birthday, hanging loosely around his neck.

"I want to know your real name Psycho."
"That's the reward? You know I don't like going there."
"Do you trust me?"
"You know I do Luna."
"Then just tell me."

He takes in a deep breathe, deep in contemplation.
"My real name is Halal Allesandro Leone."
"Halal Allesandro Leone. Why don't you just use Halal instead of Psycho?" I question, voice calm.
"Because "Halal" is not what I embody. Halal means legal. My very conception was a mistake, and my birth, a great evil."

"Psycho! Don't say that! That name is one of a kind. You want to know how I view you? You want me to explain how I see you?" I question, cupping his cheek.
"You've got eyes so silver, steel would be put to shame. Eyes so blue, not even the oceans can be a good enough comparison.

Skin so chocolate, it makes even the most enticing coffee look like garbage water. Lips so pink, all I want to do is kiss them, any opportunity I get. Heart so strong, I actually go green with envy. You've managed to pull through a lot Halal. I'm in love with how observant you are.

I'm in love with just how much you've changed, in the period I've been here with you. I'm in love with how you're always willing to teach me a thing or two, about how this life runs, without trying to conceal even the nastiest parts. I'm in love with how patient you've grown. If your mother were still alive, I'd thank her for birthing you," I honestly explain.

I'm not trying to sound cheesy. No one has ever made me feel the way he does, and no one ever will. It's exactly why, I'd go out of my way, help him out in his missions.
"Thank you Luna," he speaks, taking my free hand in his, and kissing my palm.
"But let us agree on one thing. Don't refer to me by that name, until I let you know, that I've finally come to terms with it. Is that okay?"

I nod my head in understanding.
But why won't he say that he loves me back? I noticed that, during the night I admitted my feelings to him. And now, he is doing the exact same thing!
"Why are you frowning Luna."
"I'm tired, that's all."
His eyes narrow. That's a habit of his, I've noticed.

"You are lying to me Luna. Have I done something wrong?"
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why don't you say it back? Why don't you say 'I love you' back to me?"
"Do you need actual words as enough affirmation, that I actually love you? Okay, fine. I love you Luna," he responds, before cupping my cheeks, and kissing me.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'd like for you to sit on my back as I work out. I need to test my arm strength, and I honestly don't feel like my body weight is enough. Is that okay with you?"
"I'm cool with that."
He stands, and positions himself on the carpet, in readiness to do some more press ups.

I walk up to him, and lie over his huge form, face towards the ceiling above. As he lifts and leans into the ground, I count in my head. No one speaks, no one initiates conversation. Just him leaning and lifting. Wow! I'm actually impressed with his arm strength. His gone from one to twenty seven, without halting.
"You're actually strong."

"And you are actually heavy!" He snaps back.
"Wasn't my idea for you to work out with me on your back."
"And I remember asking you to sit, not lie down like a sack of potatoes!"
I burst out laughing.
"Oh come on Psycho! I can't be that heavy?"

"Oh, your weight is propotional to that of an ele... nevermind," he replies, voice deep, tone cool.
"And you love me regardless," I reply, knowing that he won't be able to formulate the perfect comeback.
"I do," he replies, stopping for an instant, looking over his shoulder, then resuming from where he left.

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