Dinner with the Mafia ✔

Chapter 33

A moment after my breakdown, a pregnant woman entered the bathroom, looking exhausted, but she froze when she saw my attire. "Stai bene?"

"English, please," I replied weakly, and she kept staring at the blood.

"Oh, I asked if you okay? My English is bad, sorry," she said, and I smiled.

"It's okay, and yes, I am fine. It's not my blood." As soon as I said that, I got flashbacks of how Dario protected me and cried again. The woman was not surprised at my condition since we were in a hospital, so she tried to hug me, yet her big belly was in the way. I laughed at her cute expression as she struggled to wrap me in her arms, and she seemed to relax.

"My son make you smile before he born." She placed a gentle hand on her stomach and smiled.

I nodded. "Yes, he will be amazing at comforting people," I half joked, and she patted my shoulder.

"Do you need anything?" She was too sweet for this world that I have been sucked into without choice. I was lost in my own thoughts most of the time since I got here, playing the worst-case scenarios of Atlas, and now it has become a reality. 

"No, thank you. I think I need to get back to my people. But you look tired. Do you need help?" I asked when she washed her face, and I handed her a clean napkin.

She sighed, but touched her stomach again. "No, I due today to birth him, so I walk. Doctor says."

I nodded with a smile. "I hope you have an easy and safe delivery. He will be a handsome, sweet boy because you are gorgeous and kindhearted. Goodbye then, God bless you," I said and opened the bathroom door.

"Arrivederci," she replied, assuming she said goodbye, and I got out to my reality.

~~~

After what felt like forever, the men arrived. "How is Don doing?" Fabio asked as I saw Mattia and Enola run toward us. She was crying too hard that her eyes became smaller, so I got up and embraced her, knowing she needed reassurance.

"Will he live? Was he breathing? Is this his blood or yours? Are you okay? Someone tell me something!" Enola asked frantically, and Mattia held her shoulders, getting her off me.

"Calm down, amore. Let Jolene breathe. You almost choked her," Mattia stated as he gave me an apologetic look. Enola wiped her wet face with Mattia's shirt, making me giggle.

"I am okay, and he is still in surgery, but the doctors were optimistic."

"Thank God! I need to sit down," she said as she dropped her body on the cold floor.

"Where is Andrea? It's three in the morning, don't tell me you left him alone!" Orlando freaked out once everyone calmed down.

"Sure, we left a two-year-old alone." Orlando's eyes widened, and I felt sorry for his nativity. "Be reasonable; he's with his nanny," Mattia responded when his friend did not get the sarcasm and hit the back of his head, earning a few laughs from the men.

The group looked very intimidating, and I did not blame the scared nurses for not even glancing our way. Some of the men did not bother to hide their guns, and I supposed it was expected here since the Romano Mafia controlled how most things operated in Sicily. 

The power of power is frightening.

After another long hour of waiting silently, the doctor finally came out of the surgery room. We all stood up, and he flinched back, feeling threatened by the crowdness. "So," the doctor cleared his throat to hide his discomfort. "Mr. Romano's surgery went well. We extracted the bullet, and he will wake up in a few hours. I suggest you all go home and come back in the morning." I assumed he explained in English because he heard me talk in English with my group, and I appreciated it.

"Can I stay with him?" I asked before I could stop myself, and some men smirked, and others gave me knowing glances. Enola was about to say something, probably teasing, but I ignored them all and looked back at the doctor.

"Are you perhaps... Bambi?" the doctor asked as he stared at me, and Lazlo clapped his hands, startling us.

"Si, she's his Bambi. Don't tell me he talked in his sleep?" Lazlo's laugh was uncontrollable, and I felt my cheeks heat up. I slammed his back really hard, and he instantly sobered up. "Spiacente, Jolene."

The doctor cleared his throat once again, and we looked at him. "He said, and I repeat: 'Abramo, don't you -the f word- touch Bambi,' the nurses and I were confused and tried to make sense of what he said, so I let them remind me to ask you after the surgery."

"Wow, it's hard to forget that you are a pervert, Abramo, even if one is half dead," Giovanni remarked, and we all laughed. Abramo scoffed and crossed his arms like an angry child.

One thing I learned about their circle; it is not toxic. 

Phoebe would have loved to be a part of it.

~~~

"Could you leave me the fuck alone? Go home. Don't you have anything better to do than bug me about the roses? Even Nonno left," Dario yelled as he tossed a pillow at Lazlo, who made fun of the vases filled with roses I got to decorate the boring house. I wanted to add color, and I did.

After waking up from his surgery, Dario insisted on going home. The doctors, Basilio, Lazlo, and I tried to object, but Dario was too tenacious and dangerous to back down, so we caved in and returned to his house. The doctors looked scared for their lives, so they did not insist against his will. They instructed us on what to do if something happened to the stitches.

Dario did not want to look vulnerable in front of his men, despite knowing that no one would judge him. They understood his pain, and from what I gathered, most of them were in his shoes at least once in their lifetime, so they knew the feeling of being shot. I also got a sense of what he was feeling, though not a gunshot. 

"I feel l'amore," Lazlo replied with a roll of his eyes and grabbed his car keys. "Call me when you don't have a stick shoved up your ass. Ci vediamo dopo, Jolene." He gave me a side hug, and Dario threw another pillow at him. Lazlo rolled his eyes again and left.

"He speaks perfect English when he insults me," Dario muttered, but I chuckled.

"That was rude of you to kick him out," I remarked, grabbed the pillow he threw, and placed it under his head. He scoffed at my comment. "Doesn't sleeping on your back hurt?" I asked as I sat on the chair next to him.

Dario crashed on the living room sofa because he did not want to ascend the stairs since he was too tired, making me work extra hard to accommodate him. To be fair, he did not ask for my help, but a reasonable person would assist. I was nice enough to tolerate his mood swings and offer him a bit of comfort. He did save my life.

"It hurts like hell, but I don't want to sleep on my stomach."

I arched my eyebrows. "Why?"

"I need to be ready in case someone bursts into the house and attacks us. Atlas is not a naive person, so I am sure word got out by now that I got hurt. Laying on my back gives me an advantage of grabbing my gun and shooting the intruders," he explained and pointed at his gun beside his leg. 

How did I not see it before?

And was he serious? He is thinking of my own safety when he is shot!

"But I am here. I can fight, remember?" I crossed my arms and raised my legs on the sofa near his feet. I was exhausted, but I did not want to leave him alone in that state.

His gaze softened, and he placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently. "You are my responsibility; I will not let a single scratch on you. I would still protect you even if you were the strongest MMA fighter alive."

~~~

11.07.2023

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