AMORE MIO (on hold)

𝐢𝐢.

𝐠 𝐢 𝐮 𝐥 𝐢 𝐚

"Nicolas. There you are!"

My head snaps towards the door, much like Nicolas', where a tall brunette is now leaning against the doorframe with one foot against the frame and the other on the floor. She's surprisingly a lot more pretty than I thought. I was expecting some fake boobs and maybe lips that are too plump with artificial filler, but this woman is nothing like that.

She is very tall, slim, and has dark wavy hair that cascades over her shoulders and down her back. Dressed as a tuxedo bunny, she leaves little to imagination. Her costume hugs her generous curves so well, and her olive skin is radiating and glowy. Is this the type of woman that Nicolas likes? I am nothing like her.

Her eyes fall on me, looking over me once, twice, and then a third time. I don't react to her obvious reaction to my presence. Over the years, I have learned to ignore those around me, especially when they take notice of me. As Don's daughter, I have received more than enough looks, from men and women equally. Whether it be because they like what they see or just want to make mental note of all my flaws, I don't know.

"I thought you were meeting me downstairs?" her eyes finally leave me and instead look at Nicolas. His grip on my wrist has tightened, but his eyes are focused on her.

"And I thought I told you to stay put, Carmella," he snaps, clearly upset that she has come up here when he asked her not to. Nicolas clearly doesn't like to be defied, which is exactly the type of man that he needs to be in order to fill the position of Don. "Get your ass back downstairs. You can't just come up here, you know that."

Huh. Interesting. He doesn't let her in his bedroom?

I'm a bit taken back, but I stand there silently, smirking slightly at the brunette in front of me. She rolls her eyes as she notices the look on my face, ignoring the words that come out of Nicolas' mouth.

"What are you looking at?" I'm suddenly asking her, and she scoffs, crossing her arms across her chest as her eyes roam over my body once more. She must know who I am. Most people know. I am sure she does as well, especially if she is spending much time with Nicolas. Our engagement is public, and so is our upcoming wedding. It's the wedding of the century.

"Just some trash, apparently," she mutters under her breath, but it's enough for me to hear her. In an instant, I'm ready to pounce and smack her in the face. If it wasn't for Nicolas' grip on my wrist pulling me back against his chest and him wrapping his other arm around my waist to hold me against him, I would have done it.

"Do you know who you are talking to, bitch? You don't walk in here and disrespect me," I snap at her. People can talk as much shit about me as they want behind my back, but they don't. And they surely don't do it in front of me either.

I have never been one to make a bad impression. Most people like me, enjoy talking to me, and although it may be because I am Don's daughter, I doubt that is the only reason why. I take pride in my duty and representing the Chicago Outfit.

Carmella goes to say something back to me, but before she can even open her mouth to let the words out, she's interrupted by Nicolas.

"If you know what is best for you, you will go downstairs right now. I will be down there in a bit, but Carmella, she is right. You cannot disrespect her," he defends me. I am surprised that he openly did so.

Carmella scoffs again, rolling her eyes once more, which only angers Nicolas, although he does not act on it. With a quick spin on her heels, she turns around, ready to walk out the door.