Always in the Mafia

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"Move the fuck out of the way," I groan out, honking my horn and checking the time on my dashboard.

I had thirty minutes before Happy hour ended.

And if I didn't make it to happy hour, this girl isn't going to be happy.

It was now Friday (again), and this whole last week, whenever my brain had free time to roam, I would be thinking about a hazel-eyed man with dirty blonde hair.

It was sickening- what kind of woman am I to want another woman's man?

The kind that had needs, that's who.

After another 3 minutes, I pull into the parking lot and see the brand new Lamborghini again.

Jeez, that person has an alcohol problem, amIright?

I hurriedly run into the swanky building and immediately direct my attention to Melissa. This time, she's talking to a guy with long hair and a headband with a peace sign painted on to it.

First an emo guy, and now a hippie?

Someone has a fetish.

"ROSALIE!" She shouts, waving her arms wildly in the air.

"Melissa, are you drunk, dear?" I ask her, giggling and making eye contact with the bartender. He knows what's up.

"Maybe a little bit. Jonathan-"

"My names James," the hippie interjects.

"-James, I mean, bought me a few drinks," she says, twirling her hair and staring at him starry-eyed.

"Gross," I mutter, turning my attention to the rest of the bar.

Hazel eyes.

Dirty blonde hair.

Tall.

Muscular.

Eww, why is my mind conjuring up him?

And why is he walking closer to me?

"Rosalie," his beautiful mouth whispers, coming to stand close to me. Has he never heard of personal space?

If I just ignore him, he'll go away, right?

Right.

So that's what I do. I turn back around and take a swig out of my drink.

And then I feel a tap on my shoulder. Rolling my eyes, I turn back around and find him amusedly looking at me.

"Yes?" I ask him, raising my sass level to 110%.

"Why'd you ignore all of my phone calls and texts?"

Is he seriously asking me that? He has the audacity to ASK ME THAT? My sass turned into anger as fast as lightning.

"Hmm, let me think. Maybe cause you showed up to the place where I work with your GIRLFRIEND?!" I whisper/scream at him, throwing my hands up in the air.

He blankly stares at me for a solid 10 seconds before a small smirk starts appearing at the side of his mouth. After another 5 seconds, it turns out to be a full-on smile, before he starts laughing.

"If you think I'd date that whore, you're funny," he laughs, his Italian accent shining its way through.

I've always been told I was smart (and I kind of am), but my brain wasn't putting the puzzle pieces together fast enough.

"Uhm, what?" I unintelligibly ask him, my mind flashing back to last Saturday.

"She was part of something I had to do for work. Trust me, I don't want to see her more than you don't want to see the devil," he replied, swigging down some bubbly soda pop.

Little did he know that I already KNEW the devil. He was none other than my father.

"Well, okay," I stated, turning once more back around to face Melissa and cut him off from my view completely.

"Rosalie," my name rolled off of his tongue, so pleasing yet so repulsive.

Groaning, I turn back and face him.

By the end of this night, I'm going to get whiplash.

"What," I grunted, eyeing his drink before snatching it with my hands like a bear would eat honey with his paws.

"Give me a second chance. Go on a date with me," he says as I feel his stare on me.

"Fine." I snap, turning back around- this time for good.

I jump as I feel his hands on me; brushing my hair away from my ear before he ever-so-gently whispers in my ear, "I'll text you the time and the place." And then I feel his warm touch leave me, before the sound of the bars door closing.

"Holy fuck, Rosalie, you got yourself a hot one. Be careful, though, cause even if its good, hot sauce still burns," Melissa says, staring out the window *probably* at Vito's ass.