Doctor for the Mafia [original]

Ch. 30

Kimberly Stratus:

I take it back. I don't want to leave Italy.

Marcella and Giovanni decided to take me out. It was my first day out of bed rest. Being cooped in my room for weeks, this was exactly what I needed.

"I know a great place to eat." Giovanni winked as he led us down the semi crowded street, giving out flirtatious hellos to hot passing by tourists.

I looked at Marcella, a clueless look on my face to question if she knew where we were going.

She only shook her head and rolled her eyes, "Don't worry about it."

I wouldn't be surprised if he brought us to a bar filled with strippers.

Taking Marcella advice, I admired the streets and the building as we made left and right turns. The structures were different from the ones in the U.S.

"Where exactly in Italy are we?" I asked.

"Veneto." Giovanni said, in Italian.

"Wow. Veneto." I said, repeating after Giovanni in English.

We arrived at a building that looked cozy. He gladly opened the door, whistling as we passed through.

"Pervert," I muttered.

We were seated quickly. As we sat down, I scanned the area. The place was half full with couples and families. A leggy blonde waitress headed towards us to take our order. After noticing that she was attractive, I looked at Giovanni. He, as expected, was already checking her out.

She stopped at our table and gave us a bright smile. At the looks of it, she seemed like the cute, innocent type.

"Ciao, sono Amanda. Sarò il tuo cameriere per il pomeriggio. Cosa posso portarti?"

(Hello, I'm Amanda. I'll be your waitress for this afternoon. What can I get you?)

I had barely gotten the time to look at the menu. I couldn't order anyway since I couldn't speak Italian. Marcella said what she was getting, and Giovanni ordered both for him and me.

Even though it was all in a different language, I knew whatever he was saying to the waitress was filled with sugar. When he was done saying something, the leggy blonde waitress would flush red, and Marcella pretended to gag.

"Questo ristorante?" Giovanni said as he gave her the smolder. "I più fortunati busboys del mondo."

(This restaurant? The luckiest busboys in the world.)

I watched clueless as she playfully rolled her eyes, I wonder what he's saying. She wrote our order down and left to place it in. We didn't have to wait long for her to bring our food. She came with three plates and  sat down our food in front of us.

Marcella ordered herself two cannolis, and Giovanni got ravioli. I frowned when I looked down at my plate. Giovanni had ordered me a slice of pizza.

"Really? We are in Italy, and you want me to eat pizza? I could easily get some in America." I frowned.

"Here, you can have a cannoli," Marcella said as she slid her plate closer to me.