Tangled Up With The Mafia

The Spark That Lights The Fire



--Allison--

With a slow but deep breath in, I opened my eyes. The kitchen was peacefully quiet with only the distant chatter of a rowdy crowd of men. I didn't know they could be so carefree and jovial with such scary faces like those. 

But even still, the hammering of my heart was yet to calm down. It had been pattering away like the wings of a hummingbird this entire day ever since Mrs Fier had come to our doorstep. Until these men leave, I doubt I'd be able to relieve myself of this anxiety either. This constant fear of making the slightest wrong movement or speaking the smallest offence that'll upset them. I don't know how Timothée has the resilience to keep up face with these types of people all the time. I can barely even manage a smile in front of them. 

With the release of a mournful sigh, I sauntered over to fetch the kettle of boiling water and brought it over to the teapot. I poured in the water and watched as it turned a lovely brown in colour from the teabag inside. This was their second serving of tea already. 

I hadn't even gotten to see Isaac today. The joy of reducing the new protection fee made it completely slip my mind. How horrible of me. I wonder was he waiting long? I have to apologise the next time I see him. I'll make him something sweet to give with it. He liked my macarons the best. 

A tender smile graced my lips as I placed the kettle down and lifted the teapot onto my tray. Isaac... 

After dressing the tray with various types of cookies, I lifted it by the handles and made my way out of the kitchen. The noise grew louder as I neared the living room and with it came a pungent smell. One of which I was familiar with. Alcohol. 

One of the men said something and it bustled the room with rambunctious laughter. In his hand, I spotted a glass of the cheap alcohol we kept in our cabinet. Timothée must have brought it out for them. 

I flustered when I noticed that everyone had now gone on to drinking alcohol instead. Did that mean they didn't want the tea? But it would be strange if I was just to turn the other way and head back into the kitchen now, wouldn't it? 

So, after my mustering up my courage, I approached the group of men and spoke up with a shy voice. "Um, there's more tea if anyone wants it." The hearty chuckles quietened down as they watched me place the tray down on the table. It rattled a little in my hands from the nerves. It was frightening to be ogled at by all of these men who could easily make my life hell if I displeased them in any way. 

My heart was pounding so hard that it was the only thing I could hear. The heat of their stares was beating down on me hotter than the Sun ever had. It reminded me of those men from the Vipères Azurées that had raided our house or the way Elias had looked at me every month. I couldn't help it. Even though they were kind with the protection fee and hadn't done anything, in particular, to make me fear them, they were still gangsters. They were still capable of all those things and more. 

That on its own was enough for me to dislike the very presence of them in my own home. 

I swallowed and let go of the tray. Well, at the very least, it seems as though no one wants tea-

A large hand picked up a small, white teacup from the corner of my eyes. It was dwarfed within its grasp and it darted my gaze up to its owner. Unrelenting, green eyes lasered back at me with expectancy and it chilled the very blood in my veins. 

It was him. 

Out of all the men here - all the gangsters that I've encountered - this man terrified me like no other. It may be that stony face, or the bulky figure, or even that watchful stare of his. But something about his presence scared me so much so that my hands couldn't stop shaking.