Arranged To Marry A Devil | 1st Draft Complete

Chapter 8 - Sightseeing

The room was silent as we all intently stared at Georgio Corvello, who just sat thoughtfully sipping his drink as if the mention of killing me was no big deal at all. The only way we could tell he wasn't a statue at that moment was because of the slow nod of his head. "You're right, killing you really would do us no good and give us more headaches than necessary," he agreed finally, which made me relax a little. "I guess I'll have to think of something else if they decide not to pay up," he then added cryptically, making my anxiety sky rocket once again and my stomach sink. I couldn't figure out why he wanted me dead so badly. Couldn't he and my father just duke it out themselves without involving their children? Surely that was the more civilized thing to do anyway, wasn't it?

Georgio seemed to have that same sneaky spirit that his eldest son had and it was very unnerving for me, to say the least. However, he wasn't planning on killing me, so I saw that as a bonus. For now anyway. Thunder crackled loudly outside as someone came out and announced that dinner was ready. "Well, let's go eat," Angelo announced abruptly as he hopped to his feet and a moment later he grabbed my hands and pulled me up to my feet.

I wasn't about to argue, especially since I was quite famished. Something about jetsetting had thrown my eating schedule way off balance and I wasn't sure it was going to recover any time soon. The staff had put together chicken parmigiana and garlic bread, making my mouth water as soon as I smelled it coming out from the kitchen. "You boys should take her out to see the sights tomorrow," Georgio then stated after we were all seated and had began eating, which caused me to almost choke on my mouthful of food.

This was coming from the same guy who had wondered why I wasn't tied to a chair and gagged when we first met- not even a few hours ago, he then threatened to kill me- in that same time span, and now he was here casually changing his tune, or perhaps his tactic, as if it were perfectly natural. "I'm sorry, what," I then asked, once I had dislodged the chicken from my throat and washed it down with some wine.

The boys looked just as confused as I was, which was good, since that proved that this obviously wasn't some elaborate joke at my expense. "Just a suggestion," Georgio replied with a shrug, but I could tell that the boys took that suggestion very seriously. Call me suspicious, but I could tell he was up to something. There was no way that this man could change his whole thought process that quickly.

Deciding it was best to keep quiet for now, I kept my lips zipped as I ate. Something told me that stirring Georgio Corvello's pot was a very bad idea and I didn't want to face the consequences of doing so any time soon. Clearly he was a very loose and unpredictable cannon. As I ate, I glanced over at the boys who all looked quite worried and confused, which did not help my already on edge and suspicious nerves in the least. After dinner, I adjourned to my room quickly, ending that little meeting, or so I hoped anyway.

After a night of uneventful sleep, because of horrible and bizarre nightmares, I woke up feeling very sluggish and groggy. The livingroom was buzzing with activity as I came down the stairs, but I needed coffee before I even bothered with seeing what that was about. Smiling at the staff, as I headed into the kitchen, didn't seem to ease their minds. They looked worried and terrified, which I guess was expected when you worked for a mob boss. "I'm just here for some coffee," I stated as I zipped around them and got all the necessary things for a perfect cup of coffee. After making my coffee, I thanked them, and then I headed out to the livingroom with my travel mug full of liquid pick-me-up.

I was spotted immediately by the patriarch of the family, who was smiling intently at me. Had he not threatened me the eve before, I would have said it was a friendly gesture. "Ah, good morning, Ganessa," Georgio greeted happily, as if I were his favorite person.

And Bella thought Edward's mood swings were bad?

I fought the urge to throw my metal mug at his head, -because that would be a perfectly good waste of coffee- and decided to smile falsely at him instead. "Morning," I greeted abruptly to stop myself from calling the mob boss names that were sure to get me murdered right there on the spot.