My Christmas List: December 20th
Give me special abilities to suddenly speak Italian.
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"I figured I'd take you back to my home roots," she said, her tone nonchalant.
I gave her a deadpanned look, "Home roots is taking me to a quaint Italian restaurant on third street back in Chicago—Home roots are your parents showing me embarrassing baby pictures of you."
Armani laughed, "Mio caro just enjoy the moment—"
"How can I enjoy the moment when everything has to be done back in Chicago? I have a job to do you know?" I cut her off, raising a pointed brow at her.
She hummed, remaining relaxed even after I interrupted her, "Your job will be okay for a couple of days. I assure you."
I froze, realizing that the real issue here was based on my job and that I was actually worried about it, especially with the event quickly approaching. Otherwise, I would've been happy to up and run to Italy.
"I just like... stability?" I said, my tone unsure and lowered.
Armani nodded, "I know. I see that, but what's fun about doing the same thing every day hm? Let's be spontaneous."
I smiled slightly, nodding hesitantly.
"Is that a yes?" she asked, her smile growing to match mine.
I nodded quicker, "Yes that's a yes."
"Perfect because I have a lot to show you," she said, her tone shifting into excitement.
I smiled, "Yeah, okay," I said, and she nodded, guiding me to her side by my waist.
When we were seated in the black Cadillac I almost questioned if they duplicated it here, but then I remembered her Mafia operates globally—and she also said home roots.
"So you lived here?" I asked, saying my thoughts aloud.
Armani nodded, "Yeah, I grew up here until I was an adult," she said, which made my brows raise slightly. "My father liked keeping us sheltered here in Sicily. Our life was... surprisingly normal."
"Normal?" I said, and it was clear that I didn't expect her to describe it in that manner.
Armani shrugged, "Yeah, it was actually the best part of my life—well until now."
My smile turned into a grin, realizing she was referring to me, "Until now?"
She rolled her eyes playfully, "Yes, until now," she said, leaning into me further.
I hummed contently, resting my head against her chest. "What was it like? Growing up here?"
She strummed her hand up and down my exposed arm, "It was nice—simple you could say. I had attended school with the same group of people since I was enrolled—but high school was when life really got fun," she said, and I looked up at her, urging her to go on. Upon realizing my curiosity, she nodded, continuing on, "My group of friends would meet at a cafe near my house, and we'd get the best coffee and fluffy pastries before heading off to school. We were always let out at around one-thirty in the afternoon, so we always had time to do more with our day. We'd normally take trains to other cities and explore whatever we could. We always made it a mission to eat something different every day—well except for dinner, my nonna would have a heart attack if I didn't indulge in the meal she spent all day making."
I couldn't help but smile at the idea of her nonna, and the beautiful simple life that Armani used to live. We were living two completely different lives as teenagers—hers seemingly being the one that everyone dreamed of.
"How is your nonna?" I asked, and right after regretting it if the woman had passed.
Armani smiled, "Oh, she's well—still cursing me through the phone whenever I answer in English."
I laughed, "She sounds fun."
Armani looked down at me, "Why because she's cursing me?" she joked.
"Exactly that," I laughed back.
She shook her head at me, amused by my answer. "You two would definitely get along."
My heart thumped with warmth at the idea of even meeting her nonna. Even being in an SUV that's riding down the beautiful alive streets of Sicily is enough to send me into overdrive itself.
It's all so unreal. The fact that I'm even here, to begin with when just ten hours ago I was in Chicago worrying about normal work problems.
Is this what it's like being on Armani's arm? One day in Chicago, the next in Italy?
"We're here," she said, leaning up from the seat.
I looked out the window at the historic streets of Sicily, noticing the people passing by in their own worlds. I genuinely wonder what a normal life here feels like.
"Mi, are you coming?" Armani said, holding out her hand, which I quickly took.
As I stepped out on the cobblestone sidewalks, something felt different in the air. It felt lighter—warmer even.
Suddenly, it felt like I was in heaven.
Our heels clicked down the sidewalks as Armani led us to a quaint cafe—or should I say busy cafe. People were coming from every angle, trying to order as something as small as a coffee.
However, as soon as Armani walked in, every worker turned their attention to her, forcing the loud buzzing crowd to quiet down immediately.
"Ah Ani Varese ha deciso di graziarci con la sua presenza," one of the workers said, forcing a laugh from Armani's lips. Translation: Ah Ani Varese has decided to grace us with her presence.
She walked over to the counter, forcing the small crowd to part for her. Everyone seemed like they were in awe—like they all knew exactly who she was.
"Sì, sei il benvenuto," Armani said, which earned an eye roll from the worker, while the other two laughed. Translation: Yeah, you're welcome.
One of the other workers spoke, "Cosa vorresti?" Translation: What would you like?
The other laughed, "Probabilmente il suo solito," Translation: Probably her usual.
"Un cappuccino!" the other said, holding his hands up in animation. Translation: A cappuccino!
Well, there's one word I understand. Cappuccino.
Everyone seemed to be laughing at this point, but Armani wasn't sparing even a chuckle. However she did shed a smile that she seemed to be fighting back at this point, "Vaffanculo," she said, which forced the others to laugh harder. Translation: Fuck you.
Armani looked at me for a moment, "What would you like?"
I pondered my thoughts, not knowing what was exactly appropriate to get. "I guess whatever you get."
Armani tilted her head, clearly not satisfied with my answer. "Come on amore mio, you can get whatever you like."
"But what if they think it's weird?" I asked, briefly glancing over to the workers.
Armani laughed, "Fuck what they think, seriously just get whatever you want."
I smiled, "Okay, I'll just take a latte and maybe a biscotti to go with it."
"Oh yeah you'll fit in alright," Armani said, smirking as she turned back to the workers, "Ho bisogno di un cappuccino, di un latte e di un biscotto – e fai in fretta, ti sto abbellendo con la mia presenza, non è vero?" Translation: I need one cappuccino, one latte, and one biscotti—and make it fast, I am gracing you with my presence, aren't I?
"Devi farlo di più, soprattutto con quella bella ragazza al tuo fianco," one of the workers said, looking over at me with a smirk, and I don't know what exactly he said but it seemed to irritate Armani. Translation: You need to do it more, especially with that beautiful girl by your side.
Armani took a step closer to the counter, "Lei è mia. Non parlare di lei, lo sai meglio," she said, her eyes not flickering away from the workers for even a second. Is it just me or did the mafia boss side of her just come out? Translation: She's mine. Don't speak on her, you know better.
The workers all smiled at her slightly, each glancing over to me with subtle admiration before they got to work on our order.
Within minutes we had our coffees and we were back out on the warm streets of Sicily.
"So what did you guys talk about back there?" I asked, sipping my latte that I had deemed one of the best coffees I had ever drank. It definitely comes close to the ones in France—I wouldn't be able to put a comparison on them given that it's two different cultures.
Armani glanced over at me, smiling slightly, "Well, they started off joking with me about never really coming around and always ordering a cappuccino, then they said I need to come by more, especially with that beautiful girl by my side," she explained, taking a brief sip of her cappuccino. "The beautiful girl being you."
I felt my face grow tingly with warmth. "Me?" I asked sheepishly.
Armani laughed once, "Yes, you silly," she said, pecking my cheek. "I already had to shut someone down about you and we haven't even been in Sicily for five minutes."
I couldn't help but chuckle. "You think he was flirting with me?"
"For sure," Armani answered almost immediately. "Mattia always does that."
"Mattia sounds cool," I said, clearly joking, but seeing how far it would push Armani.
"Really? Because I could have one of my men go kill him if he seems so cool?" She said, nonchalantly glancing over to me as she sipped her warm beverage.
My eyes widened, "Armani," I whisper-yelled, playfully smacking her shoulder.
She only laughed, shrugging her shoulders. "Stop messing with people's lives like that. It's dangerous," she said, her tone laced with sarcasm.
I only rolled my eyes, "You're the one messing with their lives—"
Her tsking cut me off before she said, "Not when you go and say things like that. Who knows, you might find your oh-so-great boss dead by the time we arrive back in Chicago."
I narrowed my eyes, questioning whether or not she was being serious.
Noticing my stare, she said, "I haven't killed her, but if you'd like to call my bluff—"
"No one's calling your bluff Ms. Ego Maniac," I said, cutting her short as she did me.
Armani's plump lips only twitched up into a slight smirk before she said, "How does breakfast sound?"
I couldn't help but smile slightly, nodding before saying, "It sounds amazing."
And before I could take back the agreement, Armani said, "Good. I'm sure my nonna is up and cooking."
I'm sure it was clear that my face had fallen into nervousness—shit I had fallen into nervousness on my own.
Meeting Armani's nonna was not something I had planned to do while being here, or even at all.
I don't even know Italian... surely she won't like that? Or me?
Suddenly, this trip feels more stressful than work.