Marcellius Fierri [Book #1]

Chapter 11

I didn't say a word to Marcellius on the ride over to the Fierri mansion. I was speechless. This was the last thing I was expecting to come out of his mouth. I mean does my dad or Leah even know?

I just couldn't bear the thought of them thinking I was actually dead. The pain it caused them when they found out. To think, they could be having a funeral and crying their eyes out to an empty casket.

To have no say in the matter of my life was upsetting. I have no intention of living my life in fear, especially as a ghost. Staring out the window, Ramzi pulls into the front entrance of the mansion.

I can feel Marcellius staring at me but I avoid his gaze, my eyes locked on the large concrete Parisienne fountain located in the middle of the lawn. Luciano is just staring at the two of us, unsure of what to say or do.

Ramzi is the first to step out of the vehicle. He grabs a hold of the car door handle, but stops when Marcellius raises his hand. I know he wants to talk, but I don't. I'm not in the mood to hear about how he let my dad and Leah believe I'm dead.

Rolling my eyes, I open the door myself. Marcellius reaches out, grabbing my wrist. "Mia.." Wincing in pain from the thirteen stitches in my lower abdomen, Marcellius immediately releases my hand. "I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-" I simply step out of the car and head inside.

Mama Fierri is the first to greet me. I can tell she wants to hug me, but doesn't want to hurt me. "Hey Mama Fierri."

"Your father brought over a suitcase filled with some of your things."

My eyes widened. "Wait, my dad knows?"

Mama Fierri nods. "Your friend too. Marcellius just couldn't bring himself to break their heart." Her eyes shift over to someone standing behind me. I know right away that it's Marcellius.

Turning around, he is standing in front of the door with a sad look on his face. "I wasn't sure if you wanted your own room, but now I see...that won't be necessary."

Luciano just walks away, having seen enough of us staring each other down in silence. I intertwine my fingers into Marcellius', a small smile forming on my lips. Once again I was jumping to conclusions without thinking to just ask him. I know he's only trying to protect me and that telling my dad and Leah the truth is risky, but I was happy he spared them.

"I better go get dinner started then." Mama Fierri has a wide smile on her face as she watches us in awe. She knew we'd end up together eventually. Not that I'm saying we were. That was still undetermined.

I follow Marcellius down the corridor and towards his bedroom. Turning the knob and pushing the door open, I pull him in for a kiss. I have been dying to kiss him. My kiss is hungry and a bit aggressive. I've wanted this for so long that I don't bother stopping myself from removing my shirt, followed by my pants.

Pulling apart, he sits down on the edge of the bed looking up at me. I climb onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. I lean in to kiss him again, but he unexpectedly turns the other cheek. "Mia, we can't."

Not this shit again.

"You don't want to?" I say, the tone in my voice clearly filled with annoyance.

His eyes darken. "Believe me I want to...,but you need to heal."

"I know what can heal me faster." I start tugging at his belt buckle. He gently grabs my wrist, stopping me from continuing. He shakes his head, pulling my hand away from his pants. "No." His eyebrows are furrowed and his tone demanding. He was very serious.

"I just want you to distract me from the pain," I say with a whine.

"I know tesoro(darling), but I'd rather our first time be special. I don't want to rush it." He whispers slowly in my ear. "Besides, I want to take things slow so that I can savor every moment."

My eyes widen as he leans in and kisses my forehead before gently pushing me off him. Plopping onto the bed, I watch as he gets up and picks up my clothes. He hands them back to me and says slowly, "put them back on." Still disappointed, I do as I'm told.

His hand is on the door knob. "Wait, where are you going?"

"To finish handling some business. Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head over. Get some rest. I'll be back to check on you before dinner." Nodding, I climb under the warmth of his bed sheets. It's very faint, but there's a slight grin hidden under all that facial hair. Although sexy as hell, he was definitely in need of another trim.

I hadn't realized how exhausted I was until my eyelids grew heavy and a yawn escaped my mouth. Within seconds I'm falling asleep and dreaming of me and Marcellius' future kids.

****

"Mia?" Rubbing my groggy eyes, I stretch and look up at Marcellius. "Are you hungry? Nodding, I force myself to sit up. Marcellius fluffs the pillows behind my back before placing the tray of chicken noodle soup on my lap. There's two small packets of crackers along with a soup spoon also on the tray. "Do you want me to feed you?"

I was not expecting that. Was the Boss getting soft? Smiling, I shake my head. "Thanks, but I think I can manage." Even though I secretly wouldn't have minded him feeding me, I didn't want him treating me like some fragile China. I got shot. I could've died, but I didn't. I'm still very much alive.

I know I should take almost dying more seriously, but truthfully I just wanted to forget about it ever happening. I don't want to see or hear anything about that man ever again. Marcellius says he is going to handle it and I believe him. I refuse to let that man take control of my life. I refuse to let him instill the spirit of fear into me. He's the one who messed up. He's the one who should be fearing for his life. The Fierri brothers weren't known at "The Four" for nothing.

Picking up the spoon, I scoop up the soup and stuff it into my mouth. "Damn. This is the best soup I've ever had. Tell your mother I said thank you."

"Actually, I made it."

What?!

I never knew Marcellius could cook. I know it was just soup, but shit. It tasted like it came from Heaven itself. I don't know why the idea hasn't crossed my mind. Their mother was a beast in the kitchen. I should have known her sons would be just as talented. "We all cook. It's a requirement of my mother's."

"Even Niccolo?" I just couldn't picture him even having the patience to cook. He was always angry. There is not a time that he doesn't go off on some sort of rampage. Actually, I take that back. He's calm whenever he has some women practically groveling at his feet.

I don't even understand why they go for a man like him. He treats women, besides his mother, like total shit. He's aggressive and sometimes even abusive. But I guess that's what some women find attractive nowadays.

"Nic's actually a better cook than any of us. It was the only way our mother could get him to calm down."

"So who's the worst?"

"Cesare. He burns water. We don't let him touch anything in the kitchen."

Well that explains his bottomless stomach. He's fit as hell, but can eat like no one I've ever seen. Chuckling, I finish the last of my soup and crackers. Marcellius grabs the tray and sets it aside. He takes his hand and gently caresses my cheek. I lean into his touch, sighing with comfort.

"Will you hold me?"

He nods before standing up and slowly removing his jacket. I'm just watching him, realizing how much I've fallen for him. Just go ahead and tell him. My mind and heart fight for dominance as I struggle to let those three words leave my lips. "Mar-"

"Boss!" In comes one of his men. Marcellius sends him a death glare, annoyed by his lack of decency. That glare was enough for the guy to realize he'd made a mistake interrupting us. "Apologies boss, but there's an issue with the traitor."

The traitor?

What is he talking about?

First, it was the ex-girlfriend and now there's something about a traitor? It's all too much. It begs the question of what other secrets Marcellius is keeping from me. Marcellius glances over at me before rolling up his sleeves and leaving the room with the guy.

I don't know why, but something in the pit of my stomach tells me I should be worried. That if I was ever going to be with someone in the Mafia, then I was going to have to get to know every version of him, good or bad.