Work With Me -Bruno Buccellati x Reader-

3- Settling in

The inside of the villa carried the grandeur of the outside. The bottom floor was open, and the abundance of windows let in plenty of sunlight, which decorated the bright decor in splashes of gold. A large, sweeping staircase lay opposite the front door, and when you looked up, instead of seeing a ceiling, you saw a large balcony that circled around. All of the rooms on the second floor were at the back of the house, the front reserved for the balcony. Looking up at it, you could see a large collection of books as well as a loveseat and a chess table. Bruno placed your bag at the bottom of the stairs before leading you to the left, where the kitchen was. You looked to your right before following him, noting the lounge area that was stocked with sofas as well as huge, puffy bean bags that looked unused. 

It was a huge home for just one person, and the silence as you entered was uncanny. You expected at least the hustle and bustle of staff, maybe the sounds of a chef cooking in the kitchen. Bruno didn't even seem to have any animals, and the house felt dead- like it was comprised of display rooms rather than real ones a person actually used. Did he ever get lonely? Going from empty room to empty room, the only noise being the ones he made. You expected your voice might echo if you spoke, and it took Bruno speaking to you to realise that it wouldn't.

"You're living here now, help yourself to anything you like." He leaned against the marble kitchen island and looked you up and down. The slightest hint of loathing crossed his face, but neither of you mentioned it.

"Got it, where's my room?"

"Upstairs on the right, I'll stay out of your room if you stay out of mine," He crossed his arms, "I expect you'll find it nice enough."

"Buccellati, don't get it twisted. I'm here for the money, not to make friends."

"I never said you weren't."

"I know, I just want to make that clear." You felt you face grow hot with annoyance, "Don't think that this means I forgive you."

"Let's not drag up the past," Bruno approached you and place a hand on your shoulder, you batted it away,

"You got my team killed Buccellati, its not something I can just get over."

"I've told you already, that wasn't me." He tried again with his hand, once more you rejected him. He sighed, "I don't like this anymore than you do."

You rolled your eyes, turning your face away from him.

"Before you start, I want to make myself clear. I am your boss and I won't tolerate disrespect. I haven't heard great things about you, Y/N, the slightest hint of disobedience and I'll be forced to get rid of you-"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

"I mean it." His eyes darkened, "Don't push me."

You shrugged it off and walked upstairs, grabbing your bag as you did so. Your room was on the very end, and you were quick to shut the door behind you. Here would be your sanctuary, the only place that Buccellati wouldn't bother you. You slung your bag on the double bed and threw yourself on after it. Burying your face in the pillows, you wanted to scream,

"Why why why why why?" You pushed the pillow against your face, "Why must it be him?" 

You rolled over and stared at the ceiling. Bruno Buccellati- your chance at a decent job and potentially the most self-righteous idiot in Italy. When you looked at him, you could almost see your team, they were stood behind him, covered in the hideous wounds they were given for betraying the boss. Buccellati did that to them, you got up and opened a window. The entire house stunk of him, like fresh linen and some rich, smoky cologne that made you feel sick. The breeze of Italian air was much nicer. You stuck your head out of the window and tried to imagine you were at your old hideout with your team. You had all lived together before, and it had been nice. Collectively, you could afford to live in quite a nice villa, you would spend your free time on trips to beach. When you opened your eyes again, you caught a glimpse of the ocean, how you had missed it. You hadn't been to the beach on your own, you couldn't bare the memories that came with it. Its been years though, maybe now- Maybe now you could. 

"Looking at the ocean?" You heard Buccellati from the doorway. You didn't turn to look at him,

"I thought you said you would leave me alone in here,"

"I only wanted to see how you were settling in. Look, I'll put your clothes away for you." You heard him unzip your bag. You snapped your head around,

"I don't need you to do that for me, you're not my mother." You snatched the bag from him, But Buccellati held tight.

"Listen, Y/N, I know you don't trust me. But I didn't tell the boss about your team,"

"Sorry if I'm not eager to believe you." You still struggled with your bag. Bruno wrenched it from your grasp and began taking out all of the clothes inside.

"There isn't much."

"I don't own much."

"Nevermind that, let me do this for you." He continued unpacking your clothes. You could feel the anger in you rise, you'd been here ten minutes, tops, and already you were losing your grip. 

"Stop acting like you care about me!" You snapped, hitting Bruno in the arms and grabbing all of your things, "Stop being nice to me!" Already, you could feel the hoarseness in your throat, the burning that came whenever you were about to breakdown into tears.

"I'm doing you a favour! God, you're so stubborn!" Bruno matched your tone, hostile and sharp. He was so much stronger than you, his eyes weren't brimming with tears like yours. You kept a hold of your bag and clothes and went back to the window where he couldn't see your face, 

"Leave me alone, Buccellati."

"Gladly." He turned and slammed the door a little too forcefully. You didn't even flinch, instead falling to your knees and hiding your face in the pile of clothes in your arms. Stupid, Buccellati. Who did he think he was? He had no right to be nice to you, not after everything he'd done. 

Bruno shut himself in his own bedroom and slammed his fist into the wall. It wasn't enough to put a hole through it, but if it had that would have only served to make Bruno angrier. He was living with a child, a stubborn, insolent child with a short temper and a lack of manners. You had better be good at your job, or Bruno could see this arrangement being very short lived. He had snapped at people before, fought people before, but having to live with someone whom he loathed this much? It was the most unbearable form of torture to him. He had half a mind to kick you out now, or find you some hotel down the street for you to live in instead. But he was a good man, he wasn't going to sink to your selfish level.

Instead, he gathered himself, running a hand through his hair, and went back to your room. Opening the door, he saw you huddled on the floor by the window, the quietest broken sobs escaping you. Guilt washed over him, and he almost wanted to comfort you, to go over there and hold you until you stopped crying. But he didn't, he just cleared his throat to alert you of his presence,

"I'll give you the weekends to yourself, so you start Monday." And then he walked out again.