Bought by The Mafia Boss

Chapter 6

An hour later I found myself wandering the hallway upstairs with my nose stuck in a good book. Footsteps approaching pulled my focus from the world that I had been engulfed in to see none other than Oliver himself walking towards me. His eyes met mine and his posture changed as it seemed to do every time he found himself near me. A softness enveloped his typically intense figure and he smiled.

Those bright brown eyes glanced at the book I was holding and he tilted his head. "I didn't peg you for a Pride and Prejudice kind of girl." He said as he came to stand in front of me.

"There is much about me you don't know." I replied. "Besides, this is a classic and everyone should be a Pride and Prejudice kind of person." I closed the book, keeping my finger in the spot where I had been reading and lifted my chin up to meet his gaze.

"You've read it before?" He questioned and I nodded. "Well, there is a vast library here, why wouldn't you pick something new?" His brows scrunched together as we both began slowly walking down the hallway.

"I've already read pretty much everything down there that is either in a language I can understand or that is fiction. I'm not one who's into many non-fiction stories for pleasure reading." He paused and I turned to face him.

He tilted his head in curiosity and my heart skipped a beat from the intensity in his gaze. I was finding myself more and more drawn to this stranger and less and less afraid. "How much time have you spent here?" He asked and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Honestly, probably more time than at my own home." I answered nonchalantly and his face darkened.

"Why's that?" His voice was laced with a venomous rage which startled me and I stepped back from him; that fear returning. He continued to stare at me as I chewed on my answer. I didn't know this man from Adam and I wasn't in the mood to share something so deep with a stranger so I answered his question with a question of my own.

"Why is it that you speak with an English accent but are also fluent in Italian?" His eyes flashed with amusement and then he raised an eyebrow.

"I'm impressed you noticed." He answered without directly answering my question.

"I'm more observant than you think."

He chuckled and smiled. "To which I'm starting to pick up on." He took a deep breath and wet his lips. "My mom raised me in England while my father is from Italy."

My walls fell a little as he shared this personal detail with me and I felt my face soften. "Your parents aren't together?" I softly asked and he raised one side of his lips in a courteous response.

"No. My mother was technically my father's mistress and when she found out that she was pregnant he told her she had to leave so his wife wouldn't find out." His eyes became downcast as he looked at the floor and I saw painful memories flash through his face.

"But you obviously met your father at some point if you speak Italian so beautifully?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He smiled and his eyes met mine. "Yes, when I turned fourteen he reached out to my mother. I spent summers with him where I met my siblings and his wife then I would spend the school year with my mum." I slid over to the wall and sat down on a window seat where he joined me and I studied his sharply defined face.

"Do you still see them both?" I inquired and he reached forward to brush hair from the rim of my glasses.

"My mum lives with me while my father and his wife live at his villa in the Bahamas I think." He answered and I pulled my legs up onto the bench seat and crossed them. His eyes lit up as he watched me and a small smile crossed his face.