Emilia's POV
When I was 16, I received my high school diploma. I was diligent and I made sure I studied even though I was home schooled.
My father didn't like the idea of me going to a regular school. He claimed that it would be too dangerous.
I liked being home-schooled. I could have my classes anywhere I wanted. It could be in the kitchen, my bedroom, the garden, anywhere. However, sometimes it sucked.
I never got to make any friends or get that highschool love I always saw in movies. Even though I had my parents who showered me with love and support, I still felt alone.
I felt like I was missing a part of me; the missing piece to my puzzle.
I thought maybe trying out college would be a good thing. Maybe then I could find that missing piece but now I can't even do that.
My stomach grumbled as I held my phone staring at that F.
"Calm down," I said to my stomach before I started walking to the kitchen.
When I reached, I looked around for a cook, maid, or anyone for a matter of fact but no one was here.
At home, I am used to food being cooked for me.
When I was 8, our longtime housekeeper, Ms. Rossi, passed away. After that, we never had anyone stable again.
My mother is not that good at cooking and unfortunately, I have inherited that disadvantage as well.
My stomach cried again and I sighed.
I'm going to have to make my own food here, aren't I?
"I can do this," I whispered to myself before heading to the refrigerator.
I took out the eggs and bacon before putting the frying pan on the stove to heat.
I quickly made my breakfast before sharing it on my plate.
When I started to pour my coffee, he walked in.
We exchanged glances but neither of us dared to break our silence.
He opened the cupboard to get a mug before pouring his coffee when I finished pouring mine.
I silently sat around the kitchen island as I started eating my breakfast.
I couldn't help but notice him looking disgusted by my food.
When he looked away, I looked down at my burnt eggs and bacon. I even managed to burn my bread in the toaster. I felt embarrassed.
I could count with my fingers the number of times I made breakfast for myself.
"You could've told me," I said to break our awkward silence.
I was still on the topic of the guard he killed.
"You're not my responsibility," he answered drily as he drank his coffee.
There he goes again with the cold personality.
"Santo, I don't have to be your responsibility for you to tell that someone wanted to kill me," I said as I tried not to get angry.
"You're the daughter and wife of mafia leaders. You should know," he said with bitterness in his tone.
I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up and marched over to him.
"I get that you're not a fan of this marriage but is it that hard to treat me like a basic human being?"
He looked down on me. "You don't want to see me treat you like you're not a human being."
I swallowed as I tried not to feel intimidated by him.
"Why do you always have to be so mean all the time? There must be some part of you that's partially nice."
"No," he said without a second thought.
I forced myself to maintain eye contact with him.
As I did so his jaw ticked. He didn't like the fact that I could maintain eye contact with him. He didn't like to know that I was not intimated by him.
As I continued to watch him, I began to notice certain features on his face I didn't catch when we first met.
His eyes were more softer than I had anticipated and his eyelashes were longer and naturally curled upwards.
His eyebrows were darker and thicker and his moist lips were full and pink.
A throat cleared which caused the both of us to look away at the same time.
"Sir?" the guard spoke as he walked up to us. "Mr. Ajello is at the site already. He wants to know where you are?"
Santo slammed his hand on the counter which startled the both of us.
"Shit," he said as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell Dante to get started with the tour until I get there."
The guard nodded before rushing out.
He picked up his jacket before quickly putting it on. He took one more glance at me before leaving.
When he left, I felt alone again.
He was barely here for five minutes yet I missed his presence.
My old home was never empty like his. Someone was always there to keep me company.
I walked back over to my plate and attempted to eat my breakfast but who was I kidding? It tasted like shit.
I picked up the phone and called Bella.
Maybe talking to her was all I needed but of course, it went to voicemail. It always went to voicemail since she got married.
I started to dial mom's number but she was probably in the air by now heading to America.
Two hours of me just sitting in the kitchen, staring at nothing in particular, passed. I tried to come up with my new thesis but nothing came to mind.
I had suddenly lost my purpose in life.
I am no longer a part of my father's mafia and Santo clearly wants me to be far away from his.
I am on the side of the country that I never thought about coming to, in a new home that I never thought I would be in, and married to a man who despises me.
Where exactly do I belong now?
The front door slammed before heavy footsteps approached the kitchen.
After a few seconds, Santo passed by but immediately paused. He slowly turned around to look at me confused.
I waited for him to say something but he never did. Instead, he turned around and went on his way.
We were strangers. What was he supposed to say?
We have nothing in common, we can't stand each other, and he's six years older than me.
We are the worst match.
Suddenly, something soft rubbed against my leg and I immediately jumped. When I looked down, I saw that it was a grey cat.
I screamed from the top of my lungs as I stood up on the stool.
Santo immediately ran in. "What?"
I pointed to the cat which was calmly laying on the ground whipping its tail. "That-that thing got inside here!"
He raised his eyebrow before taking a closer look. When he saw it, he let out a sigh of relief.
"James, I've been looking all over for you," he said as he picked it up. "Where have you been?"
My shoulders dropped. "J-J-James?"
He started petting it as he held it like a baby. "Yes, this is my cat. I gave him an English name."
"It's not going to live inside with us, right?" I asked out of fear.
I hated cats.
He raised an eyebrow. "Why wouldn't he?"
I scoffed. "You can't be serious. Those things-they-"
"They what?" he asked in a defensive tone. "James is staying inside. It's not up for discussion."
"I'm your wife," I argued.
"And he's my cat."
"And which one is more important to you?" I made the mistake of asking.
"Do you really want to hear the answer?" he asked with a serious face which already gave away his answer.
He turned around before walking out with his cat.