Anastasia Mancini; everyone in the underworld knows her name, the Fiore Mortale. After her Grandfather murdered her parents, she was raised as his personal assassin, learning to kill without so much as a second thought. People fear her, men fall on...
"Don't worry about it," I smile, trying to ignore the way my stomach somersaults. We walk into a large kitchen, beautifully filled with everything any respectable cook would want.
Except for the fact that it's littered with empty dishes, both dirty and clean, as if someone either forgot or couldn't be bothered to put them away.
"Sorry about the mess, Ryan never cleans up after himself and I've just been so busy with Sammy recently," Izaria says, a strained smile on her face.
My heart breaks for the poor girl, "I'll clean them up for you, then I'll help you with dinner. Do whatever you need to make Sammy comfortable," I say.
"No it's fine, I can do it tonight, you're a guest," she says politely.
"I don't want to sit in on their boring conversations anyway," I lie, opening cupboards to figure out where all the clean dishes should go.
"I- thank you," she sighs, placing Sammy in a high chair before going back to the stovetop.
I start collecting the clean dishes and putting them away, a comfortable silence settling between us.
"So how did you end up with the Italians?" she asks, "If you don't mind me asking of course," she adds.
"Not at all," I smile, "I needed some help and Vincenzo and I had a bit of a," I pause, trying to find the right word, "history, I suppose you could call it,"
"I remember seeing you at the ball," she says, "Sammy went up to Alessio and Vincenzo," she chuckles, as if it's a fond memory of hers.
If she wasn't already in a relationship I would suggest she talk to Alessio more, as he is very obviously captivated by Izaria.
"That's where our history starts actually," I say, semi-truthfully.
"Oh right," Izaria smirks, "I understand now,"
My cheeks flush red at her comment, "I was actually sent to kill him," I say.
She lets out a laugh, "Funny how things change," she says, "But I suppose it's good that you're aligned with them now,"
"It is," I chuckle, opening the dishwasher and feeling relieved that it's empty.
"Are you actually connected with Le Aquile Rosse?" she asks, "I saw you with them at the ball,"
I nod, "They're old friends of my parents," I say, "So naturally they came to help too,"
She hums in response, an unsure look on her face, "Will you be staying long in America?" she asks, almost hopefully.
I feel guilty settle in my stomach as I shake my head, "We're leaving to go back to Italy tomorrow morning," I say.
"Well feel free to come back and visit anytime," she says, giving me a small smile as I smile back at her.
"I will," I promise, making a mental note to come back soon and help her get out of whatever she's in right now.
"I think dinners ready now," she announces, "Can you mind Sammy whilst I set it up on the table?" she asks.
"Of course," I smile, putting the last of the dirty cutlery into the dishwasher and closing it up.
She's gives me an appreciative smile and carries the pot of whatever delicious smelling meal she's made into the next room.
I walk over to Sammy, whose concerned gaze follows his mother. "I'll come back and help you too Sammy," I whisper, taking his small hand in mine as his fingers wrap around one of mine.
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