Dance for Me

Chapter 27: Little matchmaker

Eleanor

Kill me right now.

I was seated at a beautifully arranged dining table littered with rose petals, candles and soft music playing in the background. I had only been on a couple of lousy dates in the past, but this was stunning, even though neither of us had any intention of eating dinner together.

Sofia the little rascal set this whole thing up. She was one of the smartest children I had ever met. Even though I knew little about them, I knew Sofia wanted a mum. It was only yesterday that she almost called me mum.

Maybe there was a woman out there who would make an amazing step mum, but that person wasn't me. 

I'd always be there for her and look after her, but truthfully I didn't know what to think about this. It was overwhelming and honestly Oscar was the most infuriating, stubborn and goddamn annoying man I had ever encountered. He had more mood swings than me and that said a lot.

He was a mafia boss, even if I only ever saw the sweet dad side to him with Sofia. He had issues of his own. Brian warned me to be careful as a life with Oscar was one in which everyday could be the last.

But everything aside, this was a sweet gesture from Sofia. For her, I would make the most out of this.

"How's your food?" I asked nervously desperately trying to ease off the tense and awkward atmosphere.

Oscar looked up at me with a mouthful of food and frowned.

"My spaghetti hoops are cold. I'm going to complain to the chef".

"No Oscar, let her be. She's had a busy day preparing all this".

Oscar placed his fork down and frowned at the door.

"Excuse me, Chef!" he shouted trying to contain his smirk.

The door to the kitchen opened and Sofia or should I say the chef poked her head out and raised a brow.

"Can I help you Sir?".

My heart was melting at the way they both stayed in character, even though Oscar was finding it difficult not to laugh.

"Um, so my spaghetti hoops are cold".

Sofia frowned and stomped over towards Oscar before placing her hands on her hips.

"Are you sure you're not trying to be difficult dad- Sir?".

"N-No, I promise. Try it if you don't believe me".

Sofia stared at her daddy angrily before sticking her finger in the spaghetti hoops and brought her finger to her mouth.

Her eyes widened and turned her head to the kitchen.

"Oh my, I do apologise Sir. I'll be right back".

Sofia picked up his plate and stomped to the kitchen where Brian was staring at us sheepishly knowing he was about to get an earful.

Turning my attention back to my food, I awkwardly listened in on little Sofia playfully yelling at Brian saying he needed to up his game otherwise she'd call Gordon Ramsey.

Brian, the burly muscly mafia man suddenly started pleading with her not to call him and insisted he'd make sure to heat it correctly this time.

"Oh, so you're one of those people. You complain when you go to restaurants?".

"Not at all. Unless the chicken is raw or it's frozen in the middle, then no. I have upmost respect for people working in the restaurant industry as I used to work in one".