Loving The Mafia ✅

24. "I have to leave."

Chapter 24 quote:

"I need you, I need you, I need you right now. I need you right now.
So don't let me, don't let me, don't let down."
~ Don't Let Me Down by The Chainsmokers ft. Daya

HARLOW

I love you, and I'll see you soon, princess - Unknown

God, what the hell is going on? I'd been getting these creepy ass texts all week. All by Unknown. But I knew good and damn well who it was.

Francisco.

I haven't showed anyone, not even Cristiano these texts. I got about three texts a day, one in the mornings, one just to check on me in the afternoon, and one at night, before I went to bed. All the texts ended with 'I'll see you soon, princess'.

He's coming for me.

I know I'm not as scared as I used to be of him, and I have the whole Italian Mafia to protect me, but I just have the feeling something's gonna happen right under our noses, and I'll be taken. Gone.

And now, I really am scared of what he's gonna do to me when he does take me. When I was still with the Russians, Francisco would punish me by anything that inflicts pain on my body for doing anything he didn't like. Whether it was whips or just flat out beating me. I got these punishments at least twice a week.

I decided to stay as close to anyone as possible when I go out. Never leave their side until I find someone else to cling to.

I ran downstairs and into the kitchen. Cristiano was cooking God knows something heavenly, Zach had just walked out and Eli followed him. I made a mental note to talk to him later.

I leaned against the doorway smiling at the adorable sight in front of me.

Cristiano was standing in front of the stove, flour on his grey Adidas sweatpants, his abs, his hair and the tip of his nose. He had his hands on his hips, with a grimace that turned into a cute little pout. In a flash, he opened a small bottle of seasoning and sprinkled it in a red sauce, and by the rolled out circle of dough on a counter, I'm guessing he's making pizza.

Zach probably requested it because Zach can't eat anything but pizza. He eats it all the time.

I went over to my master chef and stood beside him, to see how long it takes him to notice me.

After approximately 3.5 seconds, he holds a spoon up to my lips. "Taste."

I glance at him and he has a hopeful look on his stubbled face. I gladly taste the sauce and almost collapse from the taste.

"Holy shït balls." I licked the spoon again. "Why the hell do you have a personal chef when you can cook tenfold better?" I groaned.

"Because I'm too lazy to cook." He simply answered, and put a lid on the pot, turning the heat to low. "You liked it?"

"Like', is not the right word." I thought for a descriptive fancy word. "It was positively delectable."

He laughed and pecked my lips, putting his hands on my hips to bring me closer and we both smiled. "Grazie, bellezza."

Hearing this a thousand times, I knew what grazie meant. "You're welcome." I got on the tips of my toes to kiss him again.