Salvatore

8. Dante is crazy fr

"I know, it's kind of excessive if I'm being honest," I say, directing him to the informal living room (because obv there's a formal one for guests). "I'm planning to redecorate, Mom is helping me."

He nods, taking a seat on the couch. We talk for a while as he asks me how I'm doing and if I'm okay. I tell him that it's all good, I miss my friends and everyone, but Dante's like never home. His gaze catches something stuck in the couch cushions and he makes his way over.

Oh no. I forgot about my book. It's one of those mafia romances with the shirtless man covers and its called, like, Dangerous Secrets or Darkest Temptations or something like that. It sucks, but those mafia books have been a guilty pleasure since my Wattpad days.

He picks up the book, examines the cover and looks between me and the book. "Martina," he says. "What is this?" he looks a little disgusted as he flips through it.

I sink into a throw pillow. "I was just trying to figure out what to expect with my new mafia lifestyle."

"By reading these mafia romances?" He looks at me, and I nod. "This is not who we are, or what we represent."

"I know," I grab my chips and offer some to him. "It's way inaccurate, and the characters are so annoying, and the main guy is such an alpha male. But like, I can't stop reading them."

He laughs, and we talk for a while longer. As he's leaving, he tells me that the rest of my stuff should be delivered by tomorrow, which yay, and gives me the address to his penthouse. I've never been there since in the past it would raise too many questions with him having us consistently visit, so he always came to us.

It's around dinner time when he leaves, so I place an order for pasta and breadsticks from Olive Garden. I look around for my book, but can't find it anywhere. I shrug. It's a pretty big house so it could be days until I find it again.

I lay on the couch watching TV until my food arrives. When it does, it's gone cold which means I have to heat it up. Usually, I eat at the island but today, I decide to eat at the dining table. I'm going to town on my fettuccine Alfredo when I hear the front door open. It's probably Dante, so I ignore it. A few minutes later, he shuffles into the dining room and stares at me.

"What?" I say, my fork midway to my mouth.

He shakes his head. "Nothing, it's just that this room rarely gets used."

I take a look around the dining room. "It's lowkey kinda wasteful to just have things and not use them, don't you think?"

He huffs. "It's not my fault I work mostly all day, so there's no point for me to eat in here."

I point at him with my fork. "Like I said, wasteful. If you're rarely home, what do you need a huge mansion for?"

He loosens his tie. It's kinda ridiculous that he's nineteen dressed like a businessman all the time. Matteo is also nineteen and I think he only wears sweatpants and Nike tech fleece. I've tried to get him to be more fashionable to no avail. It's just funny that Dante dresses like he's got a nine to five and a mortgage and bills to pay.

I notice him eyeing my food and unfortunately my parents raised me to have manners, so I say, "Do you want to eat?" In my head, I'm hoping he says no.

He looks between me and the pasta. "You cooked for me?" He asks incredulously.

"No," I say. The Uber eats bag is literally right beside me. "I ordered it."

He ignores my remark, taking a seat and removing his jacket. "No one's cooked for me in a long time."