The Mafia Man

Baritone and Brogue

             We talked of books and family, our favorite dinners and our favorite desserts. I loved the way his accents blended: the deep Italian baritone and the lilting Irish brogue.

              After we talked of our families some more, I mustered up the courage to ask what exactly my father owed him. I mean, why would my father fraternize with a dangerous man when he knew he couldn't pay his debt?

                Cal's face darkened, and he roughly ran a hand through his hair. "Let us not speak of such things."

                  "But-"
                  He silenced me with a look, and I bit my lip in frustration. Cal stared intently at my mouth.

                   "That really isn't fair," I said. "You ought to tell me these things if I'm to be courted by you."

                    His attention was brought back to our conversation, and he raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Excuse me, Rosalie?"

                  I took a deep breath and repeated my initial question. He scowled, but complied to my request. "Your family's gang was in need of resources, and I was the only one who had the means. Unfortunately for him your father did not think of the repercussions of his hasty actions."

                    It was my turn to frown. "Oh. That is unfortunate." I picked at my food and looked up to see a strained expression upon his face.

                     We finished our meals with me being silent and him staring at me. I thanked him as he walked me to my door after a silent automobile ride. He looked very pensive. Maybe no one had dared talk back to him before? Maybe he'd never given in to someone before?

                       He gave me a kiss on my cheek and one on my temple before he went off to pick up the rest of his gang so they could move into our mansion as well. I wondered at his complex nature as he drove away, his eyes lingering on me till he rolled down the road.