Loving Marcello

Chapter Thirty Five

"Uhhh, what're we doing here?" I ask, giving Marcello a warning look.

"I want a redo." He declares, the car slowing to a stop.

"Well I don't. Last time we were here, you left me." I scowl, narrowing my eyes at the picnic supplies sitting on the opposite side of the pond as last time.

"Please? Look, I don't want this to a be a negative place where your only memory of it is me leaving you." Marcello explains, running a hand through his hair.

I hold his stare for a moment, then my stubborn facade breaks and I move to open the door, "Fine. But if you leave me again, that's immediate approval to cut your fingers off."

"Noted." He says with a wince, then opens his own door and climbs out in a hurry.

He meets me on my side of the car and takes one of my hands, surprising me. I didn't take him as the hand-holding type.

Actually, I didnt take him as any type. He seems to hate everyone and everything, I never imagined him being so nice. I mean, even though he already admitted to loving me, I didn't think he'd be this open with his emotions.

He's just a bundle of surprises.

We take slow steps to the blanket, taking our time to soak in our surroundings as we walk.

"This is where my mom and dad got married." Marcello's voice startled me out of my observation of the pond.

"Really?" I ask, genuinely surprised. I can't imagine a mafia boss getting married here. I'd expect it to be more...public.

"Yeah. He proposed to her here too." He adds.

"I can't blame him. This is the perfect place to ask for marriage." I muse, my eyes following a pair of squirrels chasing eachother, then look back to Marcello.

"Is it?" He muses, seeming interested in my opinion.

"I mean, yeah, why wouldn't it be? It's beautiful and definitely romance-worthy." I explain, shrugging.

"I'll keep that in mind." He smirks, seeming secretive all of the sudden.

"Okay.." I narrow my eyes at him, giving him a weird look before marching forward and plopping down onto the blanket.

Marcello's laugh rings out as I paw at the picnic basket and almost scream.

"Peanut butter covered pickles!!" I exclaim joyously, practically hugging the container to my chest. I let out another sound of excitement when I discover chocolate covered bananas and more nutella sandwiches.

"You have an odd taste in food." Marcello comments, watching me eagerly biting into the peanut butter pickles.

"That may be true, but I don't care when it's this good." I can't even deny his observation, because I know it's true. Even my uncle has pointed it out before, and he's the most truthful person I know.

Marcello props an eyebrow up, but shrugs and sits down beside me.

"Did you at least bring something you like this time?" I ask around a mouthful of nutella.

"I brought cheetos." He digs around the basket, then pulls a family size bag of the cheesy snack out of the bottom.

"Cheetos?" I raise a brow.

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?" He asks defensively.

"Nothing...I just didn't expect the big, bad mafia boss to like cheetos." I tease, continuing to chow down on the sandwich in hand.

"At least it's a normal snack." He says, eyeing my peanut pickles.

I roll my eyes, too preoccupied with my food to argue with him. Instead, I mutter, "Whatever."

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I sigh, kicking off my shoes and plopping onto Marcello's bed - which I've claimed as my own - with a sigh.

Marcello's usually neat room has been dirtied by me simply just entering the place. Two different pairs of my shoes lay on the ground, followed by some of Marcello's shirts I've began to use as night clothes.

Marcello doesn't seem to notice the state I've put his room into as he sits beside me, seemingly more graceful.

My hair is still damp from the shower I've recently taken, and Marcello's scent floods my shirt, partly from it being his shirt in the first place, partly because I'm in his room.

My eyes droop tiredly, "Turn the light off." I whine, nudging Marcello.

"What? No, I just lied down, you do it." He retorts stubbornly.

"No can do, I'm already asleep." I say before starting a round of fake snoring.

I hear Marcello's sigh of defeat as he crawls out of bed. A victorious smile comes to my lips once the lights are out and Marcello gets back into bed.

"That's a good boy." I coo mockingly.

I hear him make a noise resembling a growl as his arms snake around me, pulling me closer to him.

"Hey now! Take it easy." I scold, lightly slapping one of his arms.

He makes another sound, tucking me to his chest, and I can't help but to smile.

I never thought I'd be cuddling with a mafia boss in Italy. Heck, this was never even an option. It still feels so fast, and I can't help but doubt that this is real.

With another sigh, I shake those thoughts from my head and nuzzle my face closer to Marcello, pressing my cheek to his chest.

For a mafia boss, he's a heck of a cuddler...