Why Would You Read This

The Mafia Leader's Chicken Soup (Part 1)

Hi my name is D̶e̸l̸t̸o̶i̶d̷ ̵T̵h̷e̶ ̶M̷a̵g̴n̵i̵f̷i̷c̴e̷n̷t̶ ̸F̷r̶o̵m̵ ̵T̸h̵e̸ ̷P̸i̴z̸z̴a̵v̷e̷r̵s̸e̴ but most humans call me Graclynne Juliette Rosanna Swann. I am just your average normal human female. I am 18 years old and I have 2 eyes, 2 arms, and 2 legs. I have one heart that is ripe and ready to be broken by a bad boy. It's more likely than you think.

As soon as the bell rang, I hurried out of my high school. I need to move fast because I have to make it my job. I work at a coffee shop to earn money because my sister four times removed's second husband's dog's tree has Ligma.

I was mopping the floor of the coffee shop while listening to my favorite band. You probably haven't heard of them, they're called "If You Eat Yourself , Do You Double In Size Or Do You Disappear?"

I was in the middle of their hit song "I Don't Wanna Die a Virgin" when I heard it. The unmistakable sound of someone falling flat on their ass. Gasping cutely, I lowered my headphones.

In front of me, a tall man with dark hair parted perfectly and eyes the color of the ocean was scowling. From his position of being flat on his ass, I'm surprised that he could even manage a stare that piercing. I felt my heart doing laps inside my chest, kind of like my whole body does around the school track because I am a master athlete who has a scholarship for Track and Field at Stanford. My violet eyes met his. 

He got up, and as he braced an arm on a table, I caught a flash of the network of tattoos that covered every inch of his skin. The man's tattoos stopped at his neck, right below his shirt collar. 

"Why are you staring at my Angelo's Apple?"

I blinked. "Your what?"

He scowled again. Why is he so hot when he's annoyed?

"My Angelo's Apple. The manly thing in my neck?"

"Isn't that an Adam's Apple?"

The hottie cursed in Italian. "My name is not Adam, estupida. It's Angelo. Angelo Fettuccine."

I gasped. The Fettuccine Clan was the most prominent Mafia group in the area, responsible for nearly all crimes. Those people were dangerous. I was just a normal girl trying to live a normal life, juggling my 6.0 GPA, Track and Field. three jobs, internship at NASA, being popular, and all the boys who try to date me. How can I possibly be tangled with the Fettuccine? I also had another question. 

"Why do you talk like that?"

"Like what?" 

"In Italics!"

"I'm Italian."

Oh ok. Makes sense. 

Angelo grabbed my wrist quite violently, but that's ok because I enjoyed it. 

"You're coming with me, ragazza."

"But I cannot! My shift is not yet over. And I'm not sure I want to be kidnapped."

Without another word, Angelo Fettuccine dragged me into his Ferrari and drove off. 

"You are mine now," he said, smirking in Italics. 

"I'm pretty sure slavery is illegal my dude. So not spicy."

"Spicy? I do not understand"

"I am trying to replace 'cool' with spicy. What's so cool about being cool anyway? Being spicy is what's in right now."

"Stop trying to make spicy happen. Spicy will never happen."

I began to cry.