2 Years Later

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For more chapters, please visit Radish :) You can find Mafia Boss in Love along with the prequel under the title Hitman in Love. 

Angelo was finally coming back to Italy in two years. His sister and mother had returned a long time ago, for Amelia had had to go back to school, and his mother hadn't wanted to leave her alone.

Besides, Alfonso had been whining about how he'd wanted to see her ever since she'd left. Every day, he'd call her and tell her he missed her.

Despite being the one who had wanted to leave the country, now, Angelo was excited to come back.

During his trip around the world, he'd grown homesick, and it had been seven months since he'd seen his family. It was high time to go home.

It had been a great journey and he'd made many unforgettable memories, new acquaintances, but home was home, and nothing could ever replace it.

The flight was just as bad as he remembered. The food was inedible, the flight attendants couldn't be more unpleasant, and the guy in front of him had his seat reclined all the time.

Except for the chocolate dessert they'd got for dinner, the whole flight was a big disaster.

His mother came to the airport to pick him up. It was late, so his sister wasn't able to join. Angelo was exhausted and slept through the ride home. His mother took him home and stayed the night.

The next morning, at breakfast, he told her about what he'd done and seen in the last seven months that they hadn't seen each other. They looked at the pictures he'd taken.

Before noon, his mother went home, and Angelo went back to bed. He was tired and didn't feel like moving, much less unpacking. He'd had a lot of stuff delivered to his house prior to his return, for he wouldn't have been able to get it onboard.

All the souvenirs would have exceeded the weight limit. Only edible gifts hadn't been sent. Instead, Angelo had taken them with him. He'd put them in his hand luggage, and what hadn't fit, he'd put in the suitcase.

Alcohol had been automatically put in the suitcase. Angelo hadn't been sure what state the bottles would return to him in, but fortunately, none of the bottles had broken.

He didn't care about the clothes, although it would have been a pain to wash the stains, but should one bottle break, the others would more likely break as well, and they could also damage the souvenirs.

Once Angelo recharged, he'd bring the souvenirs over to his mother's house.

***

A week was enough for Angelo to get a rest, and grow accustomed to the change of time zones. He'd spent the last seven days at home, lazying around.

Traveling and meeting new people had been nice, and a great change in his life, but he needed to start working again.

Under Angelo's mother's pressure, Alfonso had helped him find a job at a local bar that belonged to his friend.

The pay was decent and he didn't have to kill anyone, which made the job ideal for him.

Angelo was grateful that the owner let him work there despite his being a former mafioso. Most people would be too scared to hire such a person.

If a word got out that a former mafioso was working there, the bar could potentially run out of business.

"Whiskey, please," a man ordered. There had only ever been one other man Angelo had seen drink the ghastly thing, and, watching the customer, he couldn't help but think of Dante.

It had been two years, so he wouldn't be surprised if Dante had found a new toy.

On his trips, Angelo had had the urge to return more often than not, and at some point, he'd questioned his decision to leave Dante.

Not just once had Angelo locked himself in the bathroom and cried under the stream of water at the thought of Dante being with someone else, but he couldn't return. He is the one who'd left, after all. It would be selfish of him.

Angelo bit the inside of his cheek so the pain would overpower the one caused by the memory of him abandoning Dante when he'd most needed him.

He knew it had been cowardly to leave Dante when he'd been bedridden, but he'd been scared that the longer he'd stay, the more difficult it'd be to leave.

"Why that long face?" the man who'd ordered whiskey asked.

"It's nothing. I just remembered something."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"Shouldn't it be the other way round? I'm the one who listens to customers' stories."

"No one is here to see and it'll make you feel better. Why don't you try it? Talking to a stranger can be easier than to a friend."

He had a point, Angelo thought. There was no one the man could tell. Nothing would come of it if he did.

Besides, Angelo didn't have friends whom he could confide in. And this strange man was as good as any other.

Angelo told him about Dante, leaving his name out.

"I thought I would forget about him after a few months, but it's been two years, and he's still the only thing I can think about. I've done a lot of bad things in the past but never have I regretted anything as much as hurting him."

"I might be wrong, but it feels like you love this man," the man said, his face not showing any reaction.

"Yes," Angelo admitted. He couldn't lie to himself any longer. "I was too scared of what would come if I told him. This is the first time I've felt this way towards anyone. The fear of being rejected still scares me."

"Does he not love you?"

"He said he loved me." Angelo remembered Dante's face when he'd said it. It had been like watching a juvenile boy being shy, telling his crush that he loved her.

"Isn't that great?" the customer said. "It's mutual."

"I can't tell if he was serious." Dante was a great liar. It was hard to believe what he said.

If Angelo hadn't seen the real Dante, he might have believed him. Dante wasn't the type to reveal his weakness so easily, and admitting he loved Angelo would have made him vulnerable. That was not something Dante did unless he had an ulterior motive.

And after being heavily wounded, his head might have been affected. Everything sounded more rational than Dante's loving him.

It sounded weird when he said it aloud. That's how rare it was to hear Dante and love mentioned in one breath.

"Even if he was, his 'love' is probably different from mine," Angelo said. "He's twisted, so he mistook simple appreciation for another human being for love."

The man stared at Angelo silently for a whole minute. "Isn't that just your wish?" he mumbled.

"Huh?"

The customer smiled at him, "Nothing."

Soon, other people entered the bar, and Angelo went to serve them.

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