Borgata - Book II #wattys2016

Chapter 22: Scusa

Momma Pirate is here. ;) 

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"If I ever hugged Fico I think I would collapse and my body would start convulsing in shock," my sister chrisrocks247 said, when asked what I should say at the beginning of this chapter.

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Check out the sexy trailer attached to this chapter that I made for the Vendetta series! ;)

  "Cazzo!" I announced with great triumph and poked at the page I was on. I was sitting cross-legged on an old leather couch and wrote the word down in the notebook next to me. "Dick or fück. Interesting..."

Fico and I had embraced earlier, but it felt like a distant event in time as soon as we separated. His phone had gone off, which had dismissed the hug. He checked the caller ID and cursed.

"Annoying sister calling?" I joked, a smile playing on my lips.

"No." He looked up at me, and let the phone ring without picking it up. "You probably shouldn't be in here during the day," Fico replied seriously, and the vagueness of that sentence alone, combined with the darkness in his eye, had my mind racing with a million different possibilities. "I have responsibilities. I won't be able to talk with you much..."

"Oh." I looked down at his tie, unsure if that had been an insult or not. I'd been under the impression that we'd come to an understanding, and now I wasn't so sure that our hug had meant anything to him. "I see," I added, and started to turn away.

His fingers wrapped around my bicep. "Wait." I turned back around, and his hand fell away. "I don't have to speak English on most of the calls I have to make this morning. You could stay in here until twelve. I don't have any meetings today."

Meetings. I detached the word and left the definition to my imagination. I wasn't too sure if ignorance was bliss in regards to "meetings" but my mind had immediately gone to tongues being cut out and–a threat that came close to home–tazering to the clît.

I sighed. "I guess I'll stay with you, Fücko." I pointed to his bookshelf before I could catch his annoyed expression. By now he knew the nicknames wouldn't stop. "But only if you point out some smut in those books of yours."

"Smut?"

"Sexy books."

He almost smiled. "I think I have a few books you'd be interested in."

Fico had given me a stack of books on the Italian language. I found my cozy spot under a blanket on his leather couch and cracked one of those suckers open. It wasn't exactly smut, but it was close to it if you ask me because I was in full investigation mode for all the dirty words I could find.

I clicked and unclicked my pen and looked up at Fico, who was facing away from me in his throne of a desk chair and speaking low into the phone–a significant adjustment from his roaring into the receiver in Italian earlier. He'd been busy for the past three and a half hours, taking back-to-back calls like the president of the United States. And when he wasn't taking calls, men in suits came in and out of his office to hand him paperwork. I was starting to think he was the head of a CEO instead of a mob boss.