Hey,So that last chapter huh? Hehehehehehe >:)
I realised something recently when I was reading someone else's book, they were apologising about having a lot of dialogue in that particular chapter and I thought 'but my books are probably something like 70% dialogue. And I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing :P.
Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Sorry it took so long!
-Lx
---~Clara~
I sigh, curling my fist and knocking on the door. The sound echoes throughout the empty corridors, I yawn, covering my mouth with my hand and rock on my heels as I wait for him to answer. I glance down the corridor at the concrete walls and many doors that line the wall. I watch a few men
Including Vince, Marco and Junior enter the room where the muffled chatter of what sounds like quite a big crowd of people comes from. Vince notices me and smiles hurriedly before rushing into the room.
"Come in" his voice, gruff and tired voice sounds from the other side. I snap back to face the door I take a deep breath, push against the wood and step in, closing it carefully behind me. The room is silent, cold almost, odd for it to contain such a warm and loving guy. You'd thought he'd maybe add a photo or something to brighten up the place.
He continues to write without looking up, his eyebrows creasing in concentration, a few lines dented into the bronzed skin of his forehead. He glances up at me and suddenly his whole face converts into a smile, there's the warmth. I sigh in relief, it can't be too serious then.
"Clara! Tesoro, you didn't have to knock to come in, I've always got time for you" his eyes seem to have lit up just at the sight of his only daughter. I nod in response.
"I just thought I'd be polite Dad" I shrug, stepping forward slightly. "You can sit, please do!" he motions to the plush cushioned chair in front of his desk. I go-ahead and slump into it, crossing my legs as he intertwines his hands.
"So, you wanted to see me Dad? I heard from Marco earlier"
"Oh right! Yes! Just wanted to have a little catch up" he grins wide and folds his letter up away from my eyes and shoves it into a drawer. His eyes flicker across my face and his smile falters slightly, he seems guilty, worried maybe even slightly anxious.
"You seem...different" he observes. Hazel eyes fixed on mine as he leans forward towards me, idly resting his head onto his right palm.
"Different...how?" I ask slightly confused, tilting my head to try and figure him out. What's he getting at?
"Well...I mean, your hair hasn't got blue in it anymore" he nods to the colourless brunette strands of wavy hair on my hair. I slightly consciously, twist my finger around a front section of it. Looking away from him for a few seconds before looking back.
"I took it out, but I'm kind of liking this new all natural thing. Don't you like it?"
"Oh no, I do! It's just um...familiare how is that said in English?"
"Familiar. Familiar how?" I question, Dad seems to be at the beginning of listing other things he's noticed about me and how I've changed.
"I mean. It makes you look so much like your Mother"
I don't reply. His words leaving a deadly silence, the recent words that Milo and Nona spoke of her linger in my head and i feel nothing but pity for him. I reach across the wood and place my hand on his. He looks up and the small smiles reappears.
"Also, uh what was it?... Oh yes! Your accent seems to be fading"
"Really?" first my hair, now my voice. I can't tell the difference, but I guess I wouldn't would I?
"Yes and it's actually really frightening" he looks down again, this time at my hand. He seems at a lost, this job has always been rather draining for him. But it's hard for us both to be apart, especially since Mum left, our bond was so strong and I just had to get up and leave in such a hurry. It must have hurt him more than it hurt me, sending me off to a country all alone.
At least I am staying with someone I know.
"What, losing my accent frightens you?" You'd think the Mafia Boss would be scared of other things, or maybe even fearless.
"No" he sighs "You're growing up, and I'm not there to see it" he sighs sadly. I frown, feeling my lip quiver, I'm not used to him getting like this.
"You're growing up on the other side of Europe, in an English town, surrounded by people I don't know. You've grown into this independent and mature girl, so different to the girl I said goodbye too. And I love that. I just wish I was there to see it all happen. I am so sorry"
I gulp, his eyes search mine soothingly as he grasps my hands over the desk. I blink my eyes, don't cry, Clara for god's sake don't cry.
I get up quickly and rush to his side of the desk, he swivels his chair round and looks up to face me, smiling sadly for a moment. He then stands up to join me and wraps his arms around me tightly around me. My head lowers onto his chest and he rests his chin on the top of my head. We just stay there for a while, absorbing each other's heat and comfort.
"I just wish maybe we were a...normal family, with maybe your Mum still with us too, cause Clara she was so afraid Clara, so afraid" he breathes deeply and I sniff closing my eyes more shut than they already are.
"Then I could witness every second of you growing. Which is why I want you to move back home" my eyes open in shock and I gasp, but it's muffled by his shirt. Wait what?
"Stay here in Italy, Nona can too don't worry. Stay with me, Clara, sweetheart. Please, just...just move back home"
***
~Elliot~
If there's one thing I'm not made for its having crushes. Especially on an Italian certain girl currently miles away in another country. Whom I haven't spoken to for at least a week.
It's a few days past Christmas now and I walk down alone through the cobbled square of town. I stare over at the chocolate shop, preparing their valentines display early. I falter in my steps, but I clear my throat. I've got to stop thinking about her, its driving me slightly crazy and without Hugo's help, I don't really know where to turn.
Oh yeah. Hugh's not taking to me and I have absolutely no idea why because I 'm not exactly sure what I did wrong. Nothing as fast as I can remember, but I suppose if I ask him about it he will be able to tell me what it is exactly that I've done so wrong. Maybe it isn't even something I've done, just a lack of communication. God, I really hope so.
I cross the zebra crossing and the line of shops, bakeries, restaurants, cafés etc. slowly begin to disappear and now it's mainly houses and greenery, I cross into one road and walk past several more houses. I turn left and walk down to the end of the street, pulling my coat further around me if possible as an icy wind blows. I shiver and watch the water vapour disappear in front of me as I breathe. I've got to say, even though I'm not keen on the rich lifestyle my family leads, the clothes I get out of it is pretty nice. Fancy though, made of the finest fabric in some shop in Moscow, but as Olga said it is probably one of the purest and if I went to Moscow I would probably get a lot of jealous stares.