A month and a half had passed since I first joined the Mafia.
I was just kidding. I wasn't a Mafia girl, but if we were talking about technicality, I was. I did join the Mafia but as a translator.
Dad and Heath didn't know where I was staying yet. They knew I was in Boston but were oblivious to my exact whereabouts. I hoped... because I hadn't heard anything from them. Not that I want to see their ugly faces.
Good thing I don't look like my dad.
"Eat." Izan shoved the spoon in my mouth without warning, and I almost choked to death.
Dramatic much?
"Easy there, bud," I said with a mouthful of rice, and he rolled his eyes.
Ever since I told him about my past and eating habits, he made sure that he would be present for every meal of the day to ensure I was eating properly. He was a sweet pumpkin.
I wasn't skin on bones anymore. I had meat on my body, and I had never felt healthier.
Freaking Mia, you must rot in hell.
"Smile, will you?" I remarked when I saw his glare at my still full plate. I was so busy translating documents and contracts that I neglected my food.
He grumbled something and placed another spoon near my mouth. I ate it with a smile, and he didn't say anything. Just kept feeding me like a toddler, like how he would feed Alvaro if he had the chance.
"Can I visit Vivian today?" He nodded instantly. He never refused my requests, and to be honest, I never asked for too much.
On second thought, he refused one thing. He didn't let me return his unlimited credit card. I barely used it since I was finally getting paid for my hard work and spending my own money on essentials, but it was a start.
I wanted to test where he would draw the line with my requests. "I want to shave my head," I stated, and his eyes widened for a split second.
He cleared his throat, clearly walking on eggshells. "Are you sure?"
"Yes," I lied. I became an expert liar.
He winced and said, "Well, if it will make you happy..."
I beamed and pinched his cheeks. He slapped my hands, and I laughed. "You're adorable, but don't worry. I'll look like a potato if I shave it, so rest at ease, bud."
He shook his head, already exhausted from my weird antics. "Don't call me bud."
"But you are my bud, we are roommates, we are coworkers. Are we not friends?" My eyes widened at the thought. I knew I was annoying, but I thought he was my friend.
"I, ugh, joder mi vida... we are friends," he replied when he saw me pouting. [Fuck my life.]
A while ago, I discovered that he couldn't handle my sadness, and I took advantage of it.
"Dang straight we are! Wait, are you straight? I'm cool if you aren't! I am not judging-"
"Vera, I am." He held my gaze, and I nodded. "Now, finish your damn food so we can leave." He handed me my spoon and stood up to clean his plate. "Mama Vivian invited us and my men for a movie night since it's Sunday and no one had plans," he told me, and I jumped in excitement.
"I need to change my clothes."
"Food first." I huffed and sat back down. "Good girl," he said so seriously, and I giggled at how hot he sounded saying those words.
Stop, you pervert.
~~~
"Are my clothes alright?" I asked once I got downstairs. He was waiting at the entrance, and I could tell he was angry since it took me more than ten minutes to get ready. I wasn't punctual, and it was his fault for assuming otherwise.
He looked at my casual white shirt and very short jeans. It was hot outside, so I didn't want to sweat my balls out.
I don't have balls, just to clarify.
He groaned as he stared at my legs. I shaved, so I didn't know why he looked disgusted. "Fine." He looked in pain when he said it.
I stepped closer and checked his forehead. "You don't have a fever. Now, let's go. We're going to be late!" I shamelessly said, and he scoffed as he'd had enough of my crap.
"And whose fault is it?"
"Yours. Now chop-chop!" I liked pushing his buttons, and he had a lot of those. "I need to buy Alvaro a whiteboard," I added as we buckled up.
"Why?" He was so done with me.
"I'm teaching him Italian."
"When did that happen?" he asked with a tiny grin. If he could just smile regularly. But then he wouldn't be the grump we knew and liked. We as in me and my other personalities.
I showed him a short video of Alvaro pronouncing long words. "Last week. He's extremely gifted. We might have a genius on our hands," I explained, and he nodded.
"He is."
"Can pigeons fly if there is no sky?" I blurted out a random thought.
"What?" he asked, already giving up on knowing the answer.
"Nothing."
~~~
"Is this good?" Izan asked me, holding a very big whiteboard. It was bigger than me.
"How am I supposed to carry it around?" I asked back, and he sighed, putting it back. He grabbed another one, smaller than the first, and I smiled. "Perfect!" I confirmed and walked to the cashier. She was a very pretty woman.
She was ogling Izan.
He's not a hot piece of meat, lady!
"Excuse me?" she asked me with a glare and crossed arms.
I looked at Izan in confusion, and he sighed. "A thought escaped your mouth... Again," he explained since he was so used to this by now, but the lady wasn't happy. At all.
I wouldn't be happy either if someone accused me of such a thing, even if it was true.
Or would I?
It was time to put my language skills to work, and I hoped she only knew English. "Ana Asefah, ana la atakalm al engliziah, laken la atanadm alaa ma kolt. No English," I said in Arabic with an apologetic smile. [I am sorry, I don't speak English, but I don't regret saying I said.]
I glanced at Izan and could have sworn I saw a smile creeping up to the side of his mouth. "But you just did!" The cashier remarked, not impressed.
"Je ne comprends toujours pas," I replied, this time in French, and Izan shook his head and placed the board on the counter. [I still don't understand.]
"How much?" he asked to change the subject, and the lady focused back on him with hearts in her eyes.
She smiled ever so widely, and I rolled my eyes. "Fifty bucks, anything else? Anything..." she emphasized, and I scoffed.
"¿Está tan desesperada?" I asked in Spanish, and Izan snapped his head toward me, finally understanding something. He refrained from saying anything and just handed her the money. He carried the whiteboard in one hand and gripped my hand in the other. [Is she that desperate?]
"No more remarks," he declared, and we returned to his car. I zipped my mouth with my fingers, and he wasn't impressed as usual. "By the way, did you go over the Swedish Mafia's contract for the casino? They're a pain in the ass, and I don't need any fucking mistakes."
I slammed my hand on his knee because I got angry, remembering what they wanted. "Oh yes, their demands were outrageous, so I ran them over with Marco a couple of days ago. He approved my amendments even though I didn't have to change anything since it wasn't in my job description. I couldn't just ignore it," I replied, recalling one specific inappropriate demand.
They wanted people to make babies in one of the public lobbies of the casino located in Sweden. To my surprise, the Spanish Mafia and the Swedish Mafia were partners on this project, but dang, they were vulgar and perverted. I was glad that Marco thought so too. "I will send it to you tomorrow," I added, and Izan nodded.
"Gracias," he whispered, and I smiled.
"You are most welcome!"
"Well played with the cashier," he commented, and I laughed my heart out. He appreciated my brilliance, and I appreciated him for noticing it.
~~~
8.01.2024
Verena will be the death of Izan, lol
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