Introductions & Interruptions

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Introductions & Interruptions 

The boy stood. Grace assumed this must be him, her fiancé. The one they referred to as “Little” Venzetto last night.                                                                                                            

She didn’t know why they called him “Little,” there was nothing little about him. He had to have been at least six feet tall, and was well muscled, supporting broad shoulders, and strong legs. He was a handsome man, though she had attended high school with men she found more attractive. He had deep set brown eyes, high cheek bones and smooth full lips. His nose was nice too, despite the fact that it looked as though it had been broken before, but his skin was her favorite of his features. He looked as if he had grown up on a beach down south, but still had his European paleness about him. He was the color of a brown paper parcel, and Grace found herself suddenly feeling envious of his Mediterranean coloring.                                                                      

Grace was startled out of her assessment when he spoke.                                                          

“Fiancée? How did this happen?” he sounded frustrated and dangerous. It made her want to curl up in a ball.                                                                                                                            

The man sitting next to him cleared his throat.                                                                                

“Well, we was about to kill the doctor,  and the girl stopped us to make a deal with the Boss, but he asked what he was gonna be able to do with a girl, and so I told him you was talkin’ the other day about a wife,” he explained.                                                                                      

“I don’t recall ever talking about a wife, Donny.”                                                                                

“Well sure you do, Luca. Remember when we was walkin’ home the other night, and you said ‘Sometimes I wish I had a wife to come home to, ya know, somebody to cook my dinner and have a drink ready for me when I came home. We’d eat supper and she’d tell me about her day, before I took her upstairs and we fu-‘“                                                                                            

Luca laid a strong hand on his Donny’s chest, sufficiently shutting him up, and knocking a bit of wind out of him. The other men in the room chuckled under their breaths at the amusing confrontation.  He looked over to where Grace stood, noticing the deep red blush in her cheeks that was perfectly visible, even in the dark light.                                                                                          

Luca moved to stand in front of where she stood, not too far from the door. He looked down at her precariously, as if assessing her, as she did him earlier. He reached out towards her, and she flinched away. Luca’s eyebrows scrunched, as if he was confused as to why she’d done that. He tried again, slower this time, and succeeded in taking her petite hand in his own rather large one, and bringing it to his lips. He brushed them against her knuckles, keeping his eyes on her all the while. He smirked against her skin when her eyelids fluttered closed, obviously enjoying his touch.  

Grace, however, could not help but wonder what those hands had done before. Had they taken lives like she was sure Valentino’s had? Had his hands ever pulled the trigger before? The very thought terrified her.                                                                                                                                            

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