A MERRY MAFIA CHRISTMAS (GxG)

XXXIII

My Christmas List: December 12th
Let this breakfast go well.
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ARMANI'S POV

As the elevator climbed each level, I grew stiffer and stiffer beside my dad. It was 9:55 on the dot, so I knew Miracle would either be waiting with the rest of my family, or she would be practical and show up exactly at ten.

I won't lie, I'm a little nervous—and I can't even remember the last time I could say that.

The unfamiliar feeling is incredibly irritating, especially since I've gone so long without feeling it.

It'll be fine. I told myself.

But in reality, I knew that if this didn't go at least 'fine' then that might just be the answer to whether or not Miracle involved herself in my mafia.

So... no pressure. Right?

My eyes darted toward the elevator doors the moment a ding sounded—indicating we had arrived on level eight.

When the doors slid open, a low chatter of voices could be heard almost instantly. As my father and I walked down the wide shiny halls, I listened for Miracle's voice, trying to prepare myself for whether or not she was there.

Apparently, it was a good thing that she wasn't because a sigh of relief almost left my lips upon entering the open living area.

My mom was over at the kitchen island, gathering the platters of food that she prepared and transitioning them over to the long dining room table where Dali and Emilia were seated. Meanwhile, Dominico was over by the open fridge, grabbing the pitchers of orange juice, apple juice, and water that needed to also be placed on the table.

"Il mio miele," my father's deep voice called, addressing my mom, who turned to look at us just as she set down the last platter of food on the table.

My mom smiled, walking over to me with her arms open, "Good morning to you both," she said, pulling me into her usual motherly hug. Upon letting me go she pulled my father into a hug, "You were supposed to be up here earlier to help set the table."

I could easily tell by her scolding tone with my father, that she wasn't happy.

"Yeah, you left me to do all the hard work," Dominico said, sitting down beside Emilia, who was making Dali's plate.

My mom laughed, "Which was what? Bringing the beverage pitchers to the table?" she said, her tone playful and light. "He didn't contribute much beyond that," she said, turning around to face my father.

"Hey, I still contributed—unlike padre over there," Dominico said, which earned a narrowed look from my father.

"Way to throw me under the bus Domi," my father said.

I couldn't help but laugh, which earned deadpan looks from everyone causing me to put my hands up in defense. "You know what... I'm going to stay unbiased," I said, but when everyone grew quiet and stared past me, I furrowed my brows, turning around, "What is it—"

I was cut short when I laid eyes on Miracle, and almost instantly, I could tell that she was nervous.

However, she looked drop-dead beautiful, as usual.

Her tight black jumpsuit which dipped appropriately at her cleavage was such a contrast. It was almost an unintentional sign. Naturally, we all wear black since it symbolizes power and elegance, so for Miracle to willingly wear black was... different.

Don't get me wrong, I knew black was a popular color, but oddly enough, I've only seen her wear it maybe once or twice and dresses at that. But God, her in a pantsuit—that's entirely different.