𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘵𝘺.
The woman of impeccable beauty was the infinite definition of her name. Calm and poise.
Born into a violent life of guns and knives, you would assume a Mafia Princess like her would be training and preparing to be the next heir...
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I sit on the long couch that could also be identified as an entire bed. Staring wide-eyed at the ceiling that doesn't change a glimpse.
Ever since this morning, all I've been thinking about is Isabella and that man. And then my thoughts lead off to telling my parents about it. Even though her affair is really none of our business, the businessshe's doing with him possibly might be.
The theatre room is utterly silent, just I and Butterscotch curled up on the couch. My parents were getting changed into their comfy clothes, we had dinner already and now it was our movie marathon night.
I was more than excited about it. Considering we haven't had one of these in months. But I was also nervous.
Unsure of what would explode out of my mouth tonight, I just hoped it wasn't anything too much.
I kept thinking of Silver, whether to tell him about it or not. But then again, he might think of me differently. He might think I'm just being a psychotic girlfriend.
Releasing a rather loud groan which seems to startle poor Butterscotch and earn a frown from my father who walks in just in time.
"What's wrong, flower?"
I found it hard to keep a stoic face. His own face was emotionless but just as deeply concerned for my predicted distress.
"You guys were taking a long time so I got frustrated." He scoffs at that, dumping his body next to me and Butterscotch, who now stretches his body over my father's lap.
Papà casually pets him, secretly allowing his fatherly senses to embrace Carmelo.
"How is he finished before me?" Mamma comes into the room, huffing in obvious stress.
My father tilts his head up and smirks, spreading his arms wide behind the couch. "We bet on each other to see who takes the longest to get ready." He explains without taking his eyes off her.
Mamma slumps down on my other side, leaning a fraction of her head against my side. "He won, obviously."
"To be fair, Papà can take his time sometimes."
Mamma shakes her head in agreement, my father ignoring us while he begins to scroll for a movie.
"What are we watching?" He mutters, flickering through the movie options all too fast for me to comprehend which was which.
"Jesus," I grumbled, snatching the remote off of him. He grumbles back, saying something about ganging up on him unnecessarily and not deserving to pick a movie.
I ignore him, of course.
"Okay," I end up on three options I've added to the want-to-watch list.
