My Christmas List: December 12th
Let this breakfast go well.
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ARMANI'S POV
As the elevator climbed each level, I grew stiffer and stiffer beside my dad. It was 9:55 on the dot, so I knew Miracle would either be waiting with the rest of my family, or she would be practical and show up exactly at ten.
I won't lie, I'm a little nervous—and I can't even remember the last time I could say that.
The unfamiliar feeling is incredibly irritating, especially since I've gone so long without feeling it.
It'll be fine. I told myself.
But in reality, I knew that if this didn't go at least 'fine' then that might just be the answer to whether or not Miracle involved herself in my mafia.
So... no pressure. Right?
My eyes darted toward the elevator doors the moment a ding sounded—indicating we had arrived on level eight.
When the doors slid open, a low chatter of voices could be heard almost instantly. As my father and I walked down the wide shiny halls, I listened for Miracle's voice, trying to prepare myself for whether or not she was there.
Apparently, it was a good thing that she wasn't because a sigh of relief almost left my lips upon entering the open living area.
My mom was over at the kitchen island, gathering the platters of food that she prepared and transitioning them over to the long dining room table where Dali and Emilia were seated. Meanwhile, Dominico was over by the open fridge, grabbing the pitchers of orange juice, apple juice, and water that needed to also be placed on the table.
"Il mio miele," my father's deep voice called, addressing my mom, who turned to look at us just as she set down the last platter of food on the table.
My mom smiled, walking over to me with her arms open, "Good morning to you both," she said, pulling me into her usual motherly hug. Upon letting me go she pulled my father into a hug, "You were supposed to be up here earlier to help set the table."
I could easily tell by her scolding tone with my father, that she wasn't happy.
"Yeah, you left me to do all the hard work," Dominico said, sitting down beside Emilia, who was making Dali's plate.
My mom laughed, "Which was what? Bringing the beverage pitchers to the table?" she said, her tone playful and light. "He didn't contribute much beyond that," she said, turning around to face my father.
"Hey, I still contributed—unlike padre over there," Dominico said, which earned a narrowed look from my father.
"Way to throw me under the bus Domi," my father said.
I couldn't help but laugh, which earned deadpan looks from everyone causing me to put my hands up in defense. "You know what... I'm going to stay unbiased," I said, but when everyone grew quiet and stared past me, I furrowed my brows, turning around, "What is it—"
I was cut short when I laid eyes on Miracle, and almost instantly, I could tell that she was nervous.
However, she looked drop-dead beautiful, as usual.
Her tight black jumpsuit which dipped appropriately at her cleavage was such a contrast. It was almost an unintentional sign. Naturally, we all wear black since it symbolizes power and elegance, so for Miracle to willingly wear black was... different.
Don't get me wrong, I knew black was a popular color, but oddly enough, I've only seen her wear it maybe once or twice and dresses at that. But God, her in a pantsuit—that's entirely different.
The things I would do to her right now...
On top of that, her dark shiny hair was down and in big natural waves. I always found her hair to be so beautiful, especially with how healthy she kept it—and even the length she managed to grow it to.
And even though I thought her bare face was perfect the way it was, her makeup was still always so flawless, but also not noticeably too much. Like you almost couldn't tell if she was actually wearing any. It seemed like she was only highlighting the features she had in the first place—like outlining her jawline or cheekbones.
I cleared my throat, realizing I had just openly checked out my girlfriend in front of my family. Miracle's sharp brow was raised at my brief pause, and I knew—that she knew—that I had just undeniably checked her out.
"I invited Miracle to join us for breakfast," I finally said, taking a step toward her and holding out my arm as if to signal her to come on.
She obliged, letting out a singular nervous laugh, and looping her arm through mine.
Upon turning around, I could see the wheels turning in my family's head. My father seemed to be deciding how he wanted to react, calculating what each decision could lead to. My mom was already smiling slightly—probably grateful that I finally brought someone to a family gathering other than Roman. Meanwhile, Emilia and Dominico had their brows raised almost similarly. I was aware that they knew about us, but I also knew that they weren't expecting me to invite her to breakfast—and so soon.
Dali was so wrapped up in her whipped cream and fruit-topped chocolate pancakes that she hadn't bothered to look up, but I know once she laid eyes on Miracle, she would lose it.
That's the thing about Miracle, everyone naturally seemed to like her.
Let's hope my family falls into that category.
"Well, I hope you like pancakes," my mom said, finally breaking the tense silence.
I almost let out a sigh of relief at the white flag she practically just waved.
Dominico laughed. "Or waffles, bacon, sausage, scrambled eggs, croissants, or fruit," he said, his deep voice light and joking.
"If you wanted to starve next breakfast, all you had to do was ask," My mom countered back, walking over to the table as I guided Miracle and me over to join everyone.
Although, before anyone had a chance to say something else, Dali called out, "Mira?!"
Upon hearing Dali's soft excited voice, Miracle laughed, and I could tell it was much more genuine rather than the previously nervous one I hear. "Hi, Dali."
"I didn't realize they met yet," My father said, sitting down beside my mom as Dali ushered Miracle over.
Dali gave my father a sideways look, "Uh yeah, Mira's my best friend Nonno," she said to my father who instantly nodded at her. If it was one thing about Dali—it's that she had everyone wrapped around her tiny little fingers. Dali patted the cushioned chair next to her for Miracle to sit in. "You have to try the pancakes."
I couldn't help but laugh at the combination of Miracle's amused expression and Dali's whipped cream and chocolate-covered face.
Miracle grabbed one of the cloth napkins placed on the table, gently wiping Dali's face, "They must be really good hm?"
Suddenly, my chest grew warm, watching Miracle interact with Dali in such a tender way.
I always liked watching Miracle with Dali—and how she always treated her so genuinely.
Dali nodded. "SO good."
I couldn't help but laugh yet again, leaning into Miracle slightly as she set the napkin down and grabbed both of us a plate.
Without even being asked, Miracle began making my plate, nodding at each platter as a way to know what to put on my plate. As I nodded yes at certain foods, my hand crept onto Miracle's warm thigh, needing to feel close to her in some sort of way, while also letting her know that I was there and present. The action alone earned a knowing glance from her, but she quickly went back to making my plate to avoid raising any suspicions.
Suddenly my mom cleared her throat, sticking her fork into the fruit on her plate. "So..." she trailed off, and I already knew something questionable was about to be said. "You and Mira must be good friends?"
I pursed my lips, looking around at everyone, who seemed to be eagerly enjoying their food, which wasn't surprising given my mom's cooking—However, my dad's eyes were unsurprisingly locked on me, waiting patiently for an answer.
My eyes drifted to Miracle, who seemingly paused chewing her croissant, her stare on me as she waited for me to answer.
Well, here goes nothing.
"Miracle is actually my girlfriend."
Dominico choked slightly on his juice, earning a pat on the back from Emilia—my mom seemingly stopped her knife from cutting into her pancakes—and my dad's eyes drifted over to Miracle, analyzing her much more obviously than before.
"Girlfriend?!" Dali exclaimed, her wide eyes darting to us. "Does that mean you guys kiss now?"
I couldn't help but sharply clear my throat. Not now Dali—
"Hey!" Dali exclaimed, dragging the word out. "Does that mean you guys lied at our dinner? Were you guys kissing then too?" she asked, causing Miracle's eyes to widen further.
If the room wasn't quiet before, it was now.
Remind me to never announce something in front of Dali again.
Luckily, Emilia stood from her seat before Dali could say more, saying, "C'mon Dali, we should go get dressed for the day."
With that, the two were gone, allowing me to focus back on my parents and their lack of reaction.
But finally, after a few silent moments, my mom said, "We always knew the day would come," she looked over to Miracle flashing her white smile. She noticeably nudged my father, "Right Ale?"
My father cleared his throat, finally loosening his stiffened posture. "Yes, well, we were actually getting concerned there for a while," he said, zoning back into the food on his plate.
I felt the muscles in my shoulders loosen at the neutral reaction from everyone. I wouldn't say it was extremely positive—but it was better than it being negative.
"Although, good luck with that one, she can be difficult sometimes," My mom joked, attempting to lighten the mood.
Dominico let out a deep laugh, "Sometimes?"
I narrowed my eyes at Dominico, about to make a smart remark back, but Miracle beat me to it, saying, "She has her moments."
I couldn't help but jokingly scoff, looking over at her, which caused her to raise a playful brow in response.
My father pointed his fork between us, "I can already tell she's the perfect match for you Ani."
And with that, breakfast felt like it had actually begun. Miracle began loosening up around my family completely—laughing, joking, and storytelling. Everything was going much better than I had imagined.
Just like everyone else, Miracle seemed to make my parents like her. Almost too much.
It was clear that she made too good of an impression on my father—so much so that he suddenly said, "Miracle, I would love for you to accompany me on some business endeavors today."
My eyes locked on my father and practically bulged out of my head. Miracle cannot be anywhere near mafia business yet, especially not that deeply.
However, I knew that was my father's intention. He wanted to see how well she handled the inner workings of the mafia.
And I understand that. But she doesn't need to get involved in all of this quite yet.
"Maybe another day would be best," I said, respectfully declining him since I knew Miracle wouldn't, and I could see Dominico raising his brows, knowing it wasn't best to challenge our father.
My father's dark eyes darted to me. "Maybe we should let Miracle answer for herself."
Almost instantly, I looked at my mom, raising a brow as if to ask for her help, but she only pursed her lips—a common code that I recognized as, I'm staying out of this one.
And I didn't exactly blame her for choosing to stay out of it. When it came to anything mafia-related, it was best to not challenge my father.
But one thing they should know about me was that when it came to anything related to Miracle, it was best not to challenge me either.
I turned to Miracle, noticing her hesitation. She was tied between agreeing with me and also not having to go with my intimidating father for a day—or impressing my father and going with him to prove his point correct. That she could handle this.
Finally, Miracle said, "I don't mind putting aside my work to join you."
I could tell by her face and tone that she felt forced into the answer, knowing that going with him would be the better choice.
My blood practically boiled, hating that she had been forced into something she clearly didn't want to do, and on top of that, thinking about her near the messiness of the mafia relations didn't help.
I knew exactly what my father's plans were for the day—to go make sure that the interception of illegal substances went smoothly.
I did not want Miracle around that. Not until she had to be at least.
And without me there? Oh, fuck no.
"Padre—a quick word," I said, leaving no room for him to say no as I stood from the table.
My father stood from the table, nodding as if he knew I was going to say something of that nature.
Within moments later, we were standing on the balcony leading out of the living room. A clear view into the open concept living space where my mother, Dominico, and Miracle all seemed to resume chatting.
"She has to come, Armani," my father said, leaning over the glass balcony with his back to me.
I joined him, standing beside him, as I looked out at the foggy city of Chicago.
"She doesn't—" I sighed, "—not yet at least."
My father shook his head. "This is the first woman you've ever been serious about. I need to make sure she's equipped to handle even a small slice of what goes on in the mafia."
Internally, I cringed, imagining Miracle being escorted in an SUV to the harbor where we received our shipments—and on top of that, being around drugs and intimidating men carrying guns.
I sharply shook my head at even the mere idea of it. "And I get that—I do, but it's definitely something that could wait."
My father turned his head, meeting my stare. "Do you see her being a part of this family in the coming future?"
I narrowed my eyes sarcastically, "Clearly, that's why I brought her to break—"
"Then you'll let her come," he said, cutting me short as he stood fully from his leaned-over position. "Because this is the one chance I'm giving you to let her prove she can handle even the smallest of internal situations."
I let out an irritated sigh, crossing my arms over my chest. I couldn't believe he was actually putting me in this situation.
If she didn't go, then I know my father would shun her, not wanting her to be a part of the family at that point. But if she did go... it might scare her away, maybe even scar her slightly.
But I knew in the end, what I had to do.
"Fine," I said, shaking my head at my now smiling father.
At this point, the decision was in Miracle's hands—if she didn't want to go, I'd understand—but she agreed to and I at least have to give her the chance to make her own decisions.
Even if my ears burn up at the thought of not being by her side.
He clapped my shoulder lightly. "Excellent choice."
I clenched my jaw, realizing what I just agreed to. "But I swear to god, you better not compromise her safety or I'll—"
"You'll what?" he said, his tone clearly challenging me.
At this point, I knew he was trying to see how much I cared for Miracle. How far I was willing to go for her.
"Well, what would you do for mom if it came to her safety?" I retorted, tilting my head.
Upon hearing the statement, my father instantly nodded, knowing how far he'd go for her. I knew without a doubt he'd die for my mom, and I was equally on that level over Miracle.
I knew that if it came to it, her life was one hundred percent prioritized before mine.
Being completely aware of this fact, I corrected my posture before saying, "Yeah, so keep that fresh in your mind as you escort my girlfriend to the harbor—as a matter of fact, don't even think of her as my girlfriend, think of her as something that's priceless, irreplaceable, and treat her like that."
To my surprise, my father's smile grew, staring at me proudly as he nodded firmly in complete agreeance.
However, I inevitably broke away from his stare, still feeling slightly irritated as I entered back into the dining room where everyone else was waiting for our return.