Mesmerizing Mr. Mafia

Her Dad's Funeral

A/N: So I am going to post more onto this story, right now I'm going to be working on getting all of the previous short stories up, so bear with me :) New updates will come soon.

Angelo's POV

This was truly a weird experience for me. I was very Italian, this shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone, so it only made sense that I didn't necessarily enjoy stepping away from my Italian roots. France was not my favorite place.

I would rather starve than eat some of the food I've seen these people willingly shove down their throats.

I hated McDonalds, but even that was looking better than anything on this fucking menu.

"Why don't you get this?" Chloe pointed to some french word that was fucking impossible to pronounce on her menu. My inner fat kid was starting to get pissed off. "It's kind of like a pizza, but more like a pie."

"As long as I don't see snails or frogs crawling in front of me, I really don't care at this point. I'll eat what you eat since you're so picky, it must be adequate."

I got weird looks from everyone sitting at our table, Chloe's annoying little family, "You're stereotyping us," her brother said. I honestly don't even remember his name, all I knew was that he was a pissy little prude I had to pretend to tolerate. "You're assuming that since we're French we eat those things. They're actually not that popular."

"Uh...no?" I answered, "I've seen them with my own eyes a million times today and I don't think I can look at them anymore."

"I've seen them too," Sophia chimed in. My little person had my back more than the people that worked for me sometimes. God, I loved her. Alessio probably would have said something too, had he not been struggling to stay awake. It was too early for him to engage in any activity yet.

"Can I just have like a croissant or something?" I glanced over the menu again, relying solely on the pictures. "I don't need anything big."

I did though. I really did. I felt like I was going to die if I didn't get some quality cuisine sometime soon.

"I don't see why you couldn't," Chloe said.

"Why do you wear black to funerals?" Sophia asked while playing with the straw in her cup of water. She had some really deep questions for a little six year old. "Black makes me sad," she shook off her black coat to reveal her puffy white dress.

Pretty sure Chloe didn't let that one slide.

Sneaky little devil.

"It's just a tradition."

"Well, I don't like it. I want everyone to wear pink at my funeral."

I rolled my eyes at the hilarity spewing from my child's mouth, "I hope I die way before you."

"I wanna die before you," Soph said. "So I don't have to live without you. I wanna die before mommy too. I'm going to live with you forever."

Good.

I don't think I was ever going to trust anyone with her life, so I was going to have to keep her under my roof. Oh well.

Chloe gave me a stupid look, "I can't wait until the teen years hit and you two won't be able to be away from each other long enough."

I shook my head, "Nah, won't happen."

I loved the kid too much.

---------------------------------------

Alessio finally decided to wake up and I don't think I've ever been happier. He was entertainment when there was literally nothing else to do.

I didn't speak French now and I never would. I prayed to God that I would never have to come back here and hear it again.

There was only so much boredom I could take before I broke and had to entertain myself like Sophia and Sio did with the good ole coloring book.

I was currently watching Alessio draw some stick figures whom he gave very big guns and even added some blood to the ones who had been injured.

It was some good art for a three year old.

Maybe I'd hang it up in my office.

He put the paper on my lap and snatched a pen from my suit's coat pocket. "This is you," he pointed out the figure with the biggest gun, signaling that he wanted me to write my name, so I wrote dad on it because I was bored. "Dom," he pointed out the figure next to mine, I wrote his name too. "Italia," he pointed to the person bleeding on the ground and I cringed, "And Ruslan Ivanov," and the other person bleeding.

The little dude knew my enemies too?

Well I guess I had to keep him now.

He snatched the picture from me again and proceeded to do random scribbles. I turned my attention back onto the priest after checking to see that Sophia was still awake. She was also busily drawing some picture.

There were weird vibrations coming from the side of my body, the side Chloe was on.

She had put on a brave face for a little while too long and it all came crashing down in that very moment. I put my arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to me, she tried to stifle her sobs but it didn't work that well.

"I love you," I whispered before placing a kiss on her temple, "Very, very much."

She nodded and that was pretty much all I got.

I couldn't help but feel like we were all sitting here because of me. If I hadn't taken my mother and sister away from the Rossi, they wouldn't have felt that it was necessary to strike back at us. Had it not been for Chloe's dad though, I'd probably be here watching my mother or sister's funeral.

The repercussions didn't hit me directly, but they got Chloe hard and it was just as bad as anything they could have done to me.

They did so much shit to her dad that they couldn't even have an open casket funeral. No one was allowed to see him. I wondered why they didn't just cremate the poor guy. That's what I would have wanted.

"I need to step outside for a minute," Chloe moved away from me and stood up.

I got a weird feeling that she didn't really want me to go with her, so I nudged Sio as Chloe started to walk away, "Go with her. Make sure she's alright."

Yes, he was only three years old and wasn't capable of protecting her at all if someone was going to try something, but I wasn't worried about that. I was worried about how she felt right now.

Alessio knew how to make you happy when that was the last thing you wanted to be.

He got up and followed Chloe out.

Chloe's POV

There was a bench right outside the church the funeral was being held at.

It was cold for a summer morning, but it wasn't unbearable.

I watched as Alessio tried to open the door, but had to end up relying on the man standing there to help him out.

He mumbled a thank you, probably knowing that the guy didn't speak English, before walking over to me and sitting himself down on the bench as well.

I wiped at the tears that were starting to dry on my cheeks and faked a smile for him, "Did your dad send you?"

He nodded, "I'm sorry that you're sad, mama," he wrapped his arms, or tried to at least, around my belly and laid his head there. He found that comforting for some reason.

"I'll be ok, Sio."

"I know. You're brave."

And that meant everything to me.