Guilty Conscience ~ Abbacchio/Fem Reader

Chapter 15: A Dramatic Entrance

The seasons seemed to change overnight. A crisp wind pushed fallen leaves down the streets of Naples, just as children tucked their nimble fingers into knit gloves, and slung puffer jackets onto their backs. Fall had officially arrived, waking in the middle of the night to push his sister season, Summer, to sleep for many months so that he too could have a moment in the spotlight. Long coattails on button-down jackets and woolly hats alike mingled amongst the crowds; the seasons may have changed but the people never did. Everyone was out and about, wandering the leaf-lined streets of Naples on that cool September morning.

A soft bell chimed twice as Y/N pushed past the front doors of Libeccios, the resilient chill clinging to her shoulders finally easing off as she stepped into the bustling restaurant. A warm, comfortable atmosphere welcomed her as she brushed off her scarf and unbuttoned her coat, eager to find Bucciarati. Only hours before, the mafioso had asked to speak to Y/N privately over lunch, and the idea of talking, alone, only meant one thing: Bucciarati was going to talk to her about Polpo's test.

Y/N was absolutely certain of it. This mystery test had been on her mind ever since the boss had mentioned it. And without knowing what it is or when it was going to happen, all Y/N could do was make random guesses and half-conclusive predictions. Not even her training stopped the gears in her head from turning. No matter how fast she ran or how out of breath she became, the thought of this "test" always managed to worm its way into the core of her brain.

A gym membership, she thought, might help. A good change of scenery and testing out a new atmosphere will definitely keep my mind busy. Not to mention, with the winter months just around the corner, training in the park is going to become very. . . Unpleasant.

For the past several days, Y/N managed to finish her textbook work before noon and head off to the gym just as the lunch hour began. Weight training was a good change. Her lungs ached from her work on the treadmill and her knees buckled from the various muscle groups she destroyed with each workout. Her body ached all over, but the pain quickly turned from agony into addiction; Physical fitness was something she craved.

The homework, however, felt truly pointless. Many of her mornings were spent sulking at the hands of a textbook, her brain a mess of confusion and her mug in desperate need of a refill of the strongest coffee she could get her hands on - with extra sugar of course. Bitter wasn't something she was all too fond of, but the caffeinated kick, on the other hand, was something she'd almost call a companion. This, she thought, is why I don't go to school.

But she had to. Or at least, had to pretend to be in school. For their sake.

Y/N eased her way through Libeccio's, weaving in and out of the maze of tables and chairs, to find Bucciarati waiting for her. He was seated alone, furthest from the front doors. The smell of pine and a wild sense of confidence wafted toward her as she approached his lonesome table. Bucciarati was already smiling when she met his eyes. "The others will be here in less than an hour," he said. "It will give us plenty of time to talk."

"Lovely," she mused as she pulled out an empty chair across from the mafioso and took a seat. "I assume you called me here to discuss the test?" She wondered out loud.

"Somewhat." A waiter appeared from seemingly nowhere, placing two small saucers on the table with a clink and smiling deeply before turning the corner, quick to leave the two patrons alone. The white saucers sat under two tiny cups, filled to the brim with a steaming, chocolatey liquid. "I wanted to commend you," he continued, taking a small sip from his espresso. "I've never seen anyone speak to Abbacchio like that without facing death afterwards, so kudos." Y/N nearly dropped the porcelain cup she'd begun to lift, her eyes fast to meet Bucciarati's.