Chapter Thirty Nine

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I wake up with my body twisted in blankets.

Marcello is faced away from me, but I'm pressed against his back with my arms around his waist. The same position we fell asleep in last night, but reversed, so now I'm the one spooning him.

I peek around his sleeping form, catching sight of his peaceful face. It's come to be one of my favorite sight in the whole world. My lips tug into a smile, but a familiar sound interrupts my calm mood.

Gunshots echo throughout the whole house, emitting to every available area void of sound.

Then comes the shouting. I hear at least a dozen men hollering, but an ear piercing scream is what catches my attention.

I roll my eyes, why doesn't Marcello just install a security system already? With all the times people have come in uninvited, he's stupid not to.

Speaking of Marcello, the sack of potatoes bolts out of bed, rubbing his eyes in confusion and exhaustion.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty." I say sarcastically, leaning back on the headboard. "Someone may or may not have broken into the house again. Oh, and they have guns."

"I never would've figured that out, thanks for informing me." He says flatly.

"You're welcome." I reply, earning a glare from him.

"This time, you're coming with me. Can't have a repeat of last time." He mutters, grabbing my arm and dragging me out of the room.

Cautiously navigating around the house, we finally come to a stop in front of a wall. Well, Marcello stops, I don't. Me, being the awesome person I am, crashes into the wall.

"Ugh." I groan, rubbing my head and looking up, only to see the familiar wallpaper of the hallway distorting and moving. "Whaaa..."

"Come on." Marcello rolls his eyes at my reaction and pulls me through an entrance that wasn't here moments ago.

"What? How? Where?" I ask bewildered.

"Just be quiet and come on." He orders, continuing to tug at my arm.

After opening another door, he pushes me through, "Stay here, and be quiet."

"Wait, what?" I ask, but am left with no answer when the door is closed. "Ugh, stupid meanie."

"I heard that." His voice says, a scowl in his voice.

"Good." I spit back, glaring at the door before turning around to study my surroundings.

It's empty.

There's literally nothing.

The room is a plain dark brown, the floor sporting the same color of carpet. I tilt my head, not quite getting the reason for the room to look this...boring.

There's nothing to look at. Nothing interesting to indulge in.

I slump to the ground, deciding that if I'll be stuck in here, I'll at least relax. Seeing as I don't have my phone, I'm left to my own imagination.

A hint of worry can be detected in my mind, but I know Marcello can take care of himself, so I push the thought aside.

•••••

Marcello's POV:

Of course it's Jim again, he hinted that he'd be back. But I didn't realize it'd be so soon. I heave a heavy sigh as I approach the living room, coming face to face with three armed men, all shooting my newly replaced furniture.

This is as petty as it gets.

"Just give me my daughter, Marcello." Jim's familiar voice causes me to sharply turn around, facing him and Terry.

"Jim, she's a grown woman. She has a choice on what she wants, and I don't believe she'll choose you." I reply impatiently, hoping he grabs onto the idea that she's not as dependent as he may think.

"Of course she'll choose me. I'm her father, she-" He begins, but I cut him off.

"She doesn't know you. She's lived all her life not having a father, and by now, she's accustomed to it. She doesn't need you, Jim. She'll pick me over you any day. I'm her husband, she needs me more than she's ever needed or even wanted you. You had your chance 20 years ago, but you gave it up for the mafia." I explain harshly, hoping to reveal the harsh truth to him.

Yet he remains unaffected as he pulls a gun from his waistband.

"Goodbye, Marcello."

°•°●°•°●°•°

Brimmy's POV (sorry I keep changing POV's):

I heave a sigh, twiddling my fingers. I've already been in this stupid room for twenty minutes, and I'm starting to feel a little suffocated. My boredom has gotten the best of me, which led me to the position of laying on my back with my feet on the wall.

I play with a strand of my hair as I sing a song that's been stuck in my head for a couple days now.

I haven't even heard it for a while, so I don't understand why I keep repeating 'I like to move it, move it' in my head every two seconds.

I give another dramatic sigh as I flip onto my stomach, planting my elbows to the floor and resting my head in my hands.

Just as I start singing again, the door clicks open, revealing a beaten and battered Marcello.

I scramble up in a hurry, panicked at the state he's in.

"Oh my goodness, are you okay?" I ask in a rush, touching a bloody cut on his face.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He answers with a clenched jaw. "Your father came to pay a visit."

My stomach drops at his words as a strong wave of nausea hits. I hold my breath in hopes of not throwing up.

I hate to think that my dad would do this.

I shake my head at the thought. I actually wanted to meet him a couple days ago, but then, Marcello hinted that my dad wasn't a man to be messed with. I have no doubt in my mind that he'd hurt me. He doesn't know me. I don't know him. We mean nothing to each other.

As sad as it is to admit that, it's the truth.

"And?" I ask expectantly.

"He's been dealt with." Marcello answers with a nod. He must see the look of horror in my eyes, by the way he immediately jumps to explain, "I mean, I've settled our disagreements."

I nod, blowing out a breath of relief. "What did you do?"

Marcello's eyes find mine as he gives me a cautious look. "I told him we're getting married."

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