"Alexander Kuznetsov."
My eyes meet with Alexander's smirks. "Well...Am I interrupting something? Perhaps, a double date?"
"No," Francesco said, "But, you are interrupting something."
Alexander's eyes examine me. "Are you perhaps...Angelica?" he said my name so deviously. I flinch. He leans down, tilting his head ever so slightly. "Well, aren't you a pretty little thing? No wonder why Anthony is so smitten with you." He places a finger under my chin and lifts it causing me to gasp. "Although, you're nothing special."
Francesco grabs my wrist and pulls me behind him. Right then, the spell seems to break, and I regain my sanity. My eyes roam the restaurant noticing the customer gazing at us with pure curiosity, wanting to know how the story will unfold.
"Do not touch my sorella maggiore," Francesco's tone isn't a kind one.
Alexander smirks, "Relax...I was merely chit-chatting with our little new bride," he tilts his body to the side. "Congratulations Mrs. Maranzano. Oh, how I wish I received an invitation," his voice is endearing, yet sarcasm hints profoundly.
"Apologies Alexander, but it was a private family gathering."
Alexander hummed, then nodded, "I understand, but Francesco I believe your sister can respond for herself."
No, I can't.
He glances at me once more. "Can't you...Angie?"
My eyes widen - Angie?
"May I call you Angie?" he asks innocently.
"No, you may not!" Francesco shout.
"I believe I am speaking with Angie, not you, Francesco," he said with a playful smile. "Are you perhaps jealous that I didn't give you a nickname." He takes a step closer. "Sorry, but you aren't my type."
"No, you cannot," I respond despite still hiding behind Francesco while Lily hid behind Pietro, who seemed to be ready to shoot at any second.
"May I know why I can't?"
My legs were trembling as I made a short prayer to God. "Because I don't like it," my tone pitches a bit at the end while I attempt to gather up the minimum amount of confidence I have left.
"Ah, I like you."
"If only the feeling were mutual," I chuckle anxiously.
"Why exactly are you here, Alexander?" Pietro asks.
He turns towards Pietro, "Oh, right...I came to eat dinner," he snaps his fingers, and someone pulls up a chair. Alexander squats down and rubs his hands together. "So, what are we having?"
"We are having - none of your fucking business," Pietro snarled.
"Can you say that again? All I hear is a dog barking."
Pietro's face turns red, "Apologies, but this is a private dinner," his tone was grave, deadly.
"Again, can you repeat that? There seems to be a lot of dog barking tonight," Alexander responds with a sizeable devious smile that can make one wet their underwear - and not in the turn-on type.
He grabs the white cloth and flaps it, positioning it on his lap. With a graceful hand, he commanded us to sit down. My eyes roam around the restaurant, realizing the customers are leaving one by one, shoved through the doors by a bunch of men in suits.
"You're not welcome here," Francesco states as Alexander glances through the menu.
"A little dinner with me won't kill." He looks at me, "Unless your brother thinks I'm here to steal his sweet little bride."
