Leader Of The Mafia {h.s}

94

"Whatever." He playfully rolled his eyes, kissing my cheek before I quickly snapped a picture of Chip and the monarch butterfly before it flew away into the sky.

Chip pranced over to us, and I giddily smiled as I pat his head and ran my hand along his soft, clean golden fur. We had just given him another bath this morning, today was basically all about Chip, but when you think about it... every day is.

"Should we go head to our restaurant reservations now? It's 6:30." Harry whispered in my ear, I nodded. The restaurant wasn't too far from here, maybe a half mile away.

I stood up, and Chip followed behind us. I decided that we never needed the collar after all, he followed us everywhere and never ran off.

Me and Harry held our hands in hand, and he slightly rubbed his thumb over my own before playfully nudging my hip to the side. I looked up at the moon, smiled, and turned my gaze back ahead so we could make it to our reservation dinner.

We arrived at the front of the fancy building. I mean, this was one of the most well known restaurants in New York after all. I've heard that all the celebrities come here, it's like a hotspot for them, a raging gathering.

I had snuck Chip in by hiding him between my arms. He was still a fairly small puppy and small enough to hide between my arms so he wouldn't bark, he doesn't bark unless you talk to him. I innocently smiled at the hostess like there wasn't a dog cradling between my arms like a child, before Harry and I were led to a booth table, as reserved.

I slid into my seat, putting Chip next to the window so he couldn't be seen by the passing guests. It was a plus for Chip, he loved looking outside at the bright street lights and the light patter of rain peacefully tapping against the glass. I giggled under my breath, softly running my hand along his fragile head, he whipped himself around, crept up his lips, and turned back towards the window, looking out it.

The waiter introduced herself like they always do, and clicked her pen two times before looking me and Harry in the eyes asking what we'd like to drink on this fine evening.

"A vodka fizz, please." I kindly requested, as Harry still was thinking about what he'd like to drink.

"Rum." He stated, and I immediately tensed up and clenched my fists together under the table. I shook my head, needing to rid the thoughts of the first night I met him. He hasn't drunken rum since then, and it triggered something in my mind the minute he said the word. The waiter looked at me confused, and Harry didn't notice my tense state till I lightly grunted, the waiter left with our drinks in her mind, and Harry whipped his gaze towards my stressful face.

"What's wrong?" He asked, furrowing his brows like nothing had been wrong, well there was something wrong.

"Nothing." I shot right back, it wasn't Harry's fault for making me like this, he didn't know that the drink rum would have such a haunting remembrance on my life forward.

"Something's wrong." He pounded onto the table, making me jump and causing my eyes and to widen at his aggression. "Tell me."

"It doesn't really matter... you wouldn't understand anyway." I lightly whispered under my breath, digging my nails into the skin of my fists, almost breaking it bloody.

"Then make me understand." He loudly demanded, fisting the tablecloth in his hands and not letting me back down from this.

"Rum." I stated with a swallow, and harshly but down on my lip. "It reminds me of... the night we met."

"How the hell does rum remind you of the night we m-, oh." He swallowed, the minute he realized how it  did and how reflective it impacted me. "Bree, I'm so sorry baby.. you know I'd never, ever, do that to you again, you hear me?" He firmly stated, saying he wouldn't ever drug my rum or drink, ever again.