Mesmerizing Mr. Mafia

Mr. Mafia's Wife

Four words: New York City traffic.

Nothing quite compared to it.

The thing I found odd though, was the fact that Angelo didn't even seem fazed by it. Maybe it was because he's lived here for awhile now and just got used to it.

I let out a loud, annoyed sigh.

He glanced at me briefly through those aviator sunglasses of his that only made him look that much more sexy. "What's your major malfunction?"

"I'm impatient," I snapped. "We're going to be late."

The mafia house here in New York was still undergoing major investigation by the NYPD, so it was quite inhabitable at the moment. The past month we've all been getting by on living in hotel rooms.

Dom and Luca finally got apartments of their own two weeks ago and strongly suggested Angelo do the same. I, however; was not allowed to get my own apartment for security reasons so I'd be bunking with one of the three. That just so happened to be Angelo. Go figure.

Luca's cousin Benny owned a real estate agency here in NYC and said he'd help out, so that's where we were heading. Or trying to at least.

"You lived in LA, didn't you? The traffic is no better there than it is here."

I gave him a crazy look, "Have you ever been to LA?! The traffic is a lot better!" I slumped in my seat, "Of course you've never been to LA, it's too American. You don't like American things."

"And once again you've managed to bring my mood to an all time low. Thank you for that, Chloe."

"You're very welcome, Angelo." I sighed again, but then realized I could really use this traffic to my advantage. We were blocked in on every side by other cars so escape was not an option. I could interrogate Angelo all I wanted and he couldn't do anything about it.

Yeah, except shoot me.

"So," I started, playing with my fingers nervously, "Tell me more about Italia." It's been a whole month since any of us even saw her, but to this day Luca is the only one thats told me anything. I want the story from Angelo's point of view.

He tensed, "There's not a lot to tell and knowing you, you already had someone like Luca tell you all there was to know. You two are a pain in my side when you're together. Like children."

"Like bambini?" I questioned.

He gave me some amazed look, "You even got the plural form right. You're catching on quick, criceto."

"Could you maybe stop calling me a hamster? What have a done to you recently?"

"I'm still a little angry about my estate. That place was expensive and I'm only losing more money. What names did you have in mind though?"

"I don't know. Something not so..."

"Degrading?"

"Yep."

"Hmm..." He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, slowly creeping forward in the NYC traffic, "Gattina is a no. You don't like criceto. What about passerotta? It means little sparrow."

"Sparrow? Like the bird? Sparrows are freaking fat! I want something cool, something warrior like."

"What have you done to deserve a name like that though? So far you've proven to me that all you're really great at is ruining what was perfectly fine and...damaging yourself," he motioned toward my leg. The leg who's bullet wound was healing quite nicely might I add. I was proud of my slightly tan gazelle leg.