Arranged.

5 - Amore Mio

You finished up with your dishes, Chris still muttering in Italian somewhere down the hall, and checked the time. 5 pm was still early-ish for dinner, but maybe you could convince your father to let your mother leave with you. It would give you a chance to visit with her and kill a few hours without being so lonely. Once you loaded the dishwasher, you dried your hands again and made your way past Chris to your bedroom to change, shooting a text to Vinnie and letting him know you would be needing a ride in a few minutes.

When you made your way back downstairs a few minutes later, you were surprised that Chris was still there. Anytime his phone rang recently, he was running out of the house a few minutes later.

"Where are you going?" Chris's dress shoes echoed off of the hardwood as he turned the corner muttering, "Dammi venti minuti." (give me 20 minutes) before shoving his phone into his pockets. He adjusted the sleeve of his navy dress shirt, cuffing it once, then looked up at you.

"To visit my mamma, maybe grab some dinner," you slipped on a pair of heels before standing up straight and walking towards the front door again. You offered a small, tight-lipped smile as you passed.

He cleared his throat, "What? No goodbye kiss?"

You paused with your hand on the door and turned slowly, walking back towards him and pecking your lips against his before turning away. You were trying your best to keep your attitude in check, knowing it wasn't his fault that he'd been gone so frequently the past few weeks.

But on the other hand, he'd barely acknowledged your presence recently. Why did he all of the sudden care about where you were going and the fact that you weren't kissing him?

His hand reached out, gripping your wrist and pulling you to a stop, "You okay?"

"Yeah, just wanna get over there soon. If I wait any longer my father will be there and I'll probably pick a fight with him and– I just wanna go... Get out of the house for a little bit," you let out a humorless laugh and lifting your left shoulder in a shrug.

He studied you for a second, his brows furrowing  for only a moment before he understood the issue, "I'm sorry, cara."

You shook your head, looking at your feet, "No, don't. Really, it's okay."

"Y/N.." he tipped your chin up with his index finger, meeting your gaze, "I'm truly sorry."

And now you felt like shit. You definitely thought your poker face was a little more convincing. He had too much going on to be concerned with your feelings, too. The last thing you wanted while he was tracking down someone as dangerous as he was, was for him to be distracted.

"Please, don't. It's okay. Just– Just focus on what you need to do and come home to me. Okay?" You reached up, smoothing the crease on his forehead when his brows knitted together, letting your arm fall back to your side when he relaxed a little.

His thumb slid across your bottom lip, his eyes glued to yours as he pulled out his phone, dialing back whoever was just on the phone with him, "Prenditi cura di questo senza di me," (take care of this without me).  You didn't know what he was saying or who he was saying it to, but whatever it was, struck a nerve with the person on the other end. Chris's neck flushed red, his jaw clenching at whatever was said to him in return, "Devo ricordarti chi sono? Ne risponderete a me." (do I have to remind you who I am? You answer to me.)

Your pulse quickened, his thumb remaining on your lip. How he could be so worked up at someone over the phone, yet remain so gentle with you awakened something within you. The corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile, reading the want and desire in your eyes. You really needed to work on your poker face.