Mafia I, II, & III Imagines

Fault Pt. 2 | Sam Trapani

Because it's been so long, I highly suggest going back and reading the first part before this one.

Sam x female reader

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It was later on that same day. The sun had left Lost Heaven bringing on the darkness and the stars you'd never see in the city. You sat in the warmth of your apartment relaxing with a glass of wine with some soft music playing in the background from your record player. When a harsh knock was emitted from the front door. Sighing at the interruption, you slowly stood up from the comfortable position you had slouched into on the sofa.

Throwing the black mask magazine down on the table, you stalked to the door. Sliding the gun off the small table that sat in your hallway. Holding the gun up behind the door, you slowly opened it preparing yourself for the possibility of it being an intruder.

After several seconds of silence, you groan in slight irritation at the sight of Sam standing on the other side. "What do you want?" You ask, not opening the door for him.

Noticing your lack of hospitality, he rolled his eyes. "Can we talk?" He softly spoke, as if to not start an impending argument right away.

"We are talking!" You glare at his attractive face that you hated so much.

Scoffing at your attitude, he growls under his breath. "Inside?" Mocking him, you gesture waiting for some manners. After another round of silence does Sam groans shaking his head. "Please, can we talk inside?"

You huff, opening the door wider so he could enter. Sliding past you, a chilled breeze bathed you getting a whiff of the cologne that he used religiously. It was incredibly funny to you. You would have never even thought about how Sam smelt or wonder what the brand of his cologne was, but after spending that one night together you found yourself liking the smell of him. Not that you'd admit that to anyone.

Closing the door with an over exaggerated sigh, throwing the gun into a draw, you enter the opening that was the living room. Glancing at Sam's stiff posture, you knew he felt incredibly awkward in here watching  him slowly turn to admire the décor.

You raise an eyebrow at his discomfort. Sam was usually a wreaking ball, he was always confident and every time he walked into a room he welcomed the eyes that stared. Whether it was a stare of fear, lust, admiration, or pure hatred. He welcomed it, and he was smug about it.

So seeing his rigid form that lacked the confidence it usually did was extremely strange to you. Unknowingly you had moved across the room to your gramophone to turn off your music.

Returning to your position on the couch, grabbing the glass of wine that had been sitting, waiting to be drunk.

"Not gonna offer me a drink?" Sam spoke irritating you.

"No."

Hearing a chuckle you lean back, you look back up to Sam to see he hadn't moved but his eyes were now on you. Exhaling, you cross your legs.

"What is it Sam? Why are you here?" You ask, in mild interest and annoyance that there was probably about to be another argument.

Shoving his hands into his coats pockets, he chuckles glancing around again. "I haven't seen your place since you moved in." He randomly spoke.