When italian mafia falls in love with an indian singer
The sound of his phone ringing makes me back away as I look at his phone lying on his bed. But he grips my jaw forcing me to look back at him.
"Focus on me."
He says as his lips starts peppering...
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~ 1year later ~
I dip my little finger in the milk testing the temperature of milk, making sure it's not too hot nor too cold.
'Perfect." I say and immediately put the milk in the bottle. He will get fuzzy if he didn't get it on time.
"Miss let me help you." I hear the maid ask and she progresses towards me.
"No, you make breakfast. Your master has to leave early today for a meeting. He would be down in just few minutes. You prepare his breakfast quickly." I say, grab the bottle and move around the counter to make my way up to his room.
I immediately walk up the stairs, looking at my watch simultaneously seeing that only a few moments are left till he wakes up. I hasten my pace. As I touch the doorknob a shrill cry echoes in the air indicating that he is up.
"Shit." I curse and turn the door knob, immediately moving in.
There he is, lying in his cot with toys scattered all around him. He is not even crying just yelling at this point because he knows that mumma will handle his tantrums no matter what.
I get close and pick him up. Settling him on my hip, I started humming a bit. It works everytime. Just by hearing my voice, he opens his big green eyes and looks at him. Instantly the scorn look on his face his replaced by a pleased look.
As he now claps his hands while giggling.
"You liar." I say teasingly while rubbing my nose on his and laughing. I sit down on the adjacent bed. Adjusting him I lay him down in my lap and put the milk bottle in his mouth. He immediately latches onto it and quenches his hunger.
"You hungry monster, you don't even wait a second. As it hits 9 you just want your bottle. Hmm" I say while lightly brushing his hair back. He without a care in the world drinks his milk holding the bottle in his hands while looking up at me with those innocent big eyes.
I start lightly bouncing my leg making him relax fully.
"He is up?" I look up and see him standing at the door. With over 6ft of height, dark brown hair, green eyes, bulky shoulders and a monstrous physique, it was difficult to believe that this man was a complete softie when it comes to his family.
I smile and say "Don't you know your son, always punctual like dada. Isn't he, my nikaloi?" I coo him.
He simles back seeing me.
"He maybe punctual like me but he is stubborn like you." He says moving in and sits beside me.
"Aren't you, nikaloi?" He says with thick russain accent.
"Aren't you getting late mister? You were blabbering about this meeting for about week. What happened now?" I ask him.
"I am busy for other people not my family, милый ( darling )." He says charmingly while gently tapping my forehead with his knuckle.
