The Eatery

"Okay, you're clearly still high. We have to take her with us so she won't cause trouble but keep her under close watch," Marco patted his left thigh, which I knew was code for 'keep it handy'. Being a future mob boss was very rewarding in that I knew all the secrets. The sneaky sneaky secrets. The triple sneaky secrets.

"Come on," front-seat-guard grabbed my arm and steered me in the direction they were all going in. I tripped over a loose brick and when my face almost kissed the ground, I remembered the question that would've been asked had I not been distracted by Marco's yummy scent. What cologne did he use?

"Oh hey!" I called out to whoever was listening. "This isn't America, is it? No no this is waaaay too nice to be America. This is like some European shit. Oh—" I gasped and placed a hand over my mouth. The guard currently tending to me was staring at me like I was a child on speed, but he was paying attention to me either way. Leaning in, I whispered to him. "Are we in Spain?"

"We're in Cefalù," he reached out an arm and held the door open to lead me through. "You're in Italy."

Yikes. "Ew, nevermind," I was going to take the opportunity of being out to ask Marco if we could go shopping and somehow make my daring escape, but it looked like that wasn't happening any time soon, number one, because my arm was currently getting its circulation cut off from the massive grip this guy had on me, secondly, this was DiBiancci turf, so anyone I asked for help would probably just take me back to them. Either way I looked at it, I was trapped. How fun!

I looked around for long enough to gather that we were inside a restaurant, which looked incredibly fancy, by the way. My outfit seemed like it was making me stick out like a sore thumb, mostly because it was. I was wearing three items of clothing and one of them was invisible. My clothes were basically non-existent.

We all took a seat at a table and I opted to sit next to Marco because he just smelled amazing and it was doing nice things for my sixth sense. He gave me a weird look when I leaned closer to him and jerked in surprise when my head came down onto his shoulder. I felt kind of sleepy so a place to lay my head was necessary but laying my head on the table would've been rude. Everyone at the table except for Marco was looking at me like I'd gone mad. Did I care? No.

"Markie, what are we doing here?" For whatever reason, I was feeling very clingy and hugging his arm was very comforting. I couldn't tell if it was homesickness or if I was still horny, but his arm felt really good to me right now. "Ooo what's that? I'm hungry, can we eat?" Marco sighed and looked like he was about to push me off my chair, so I just held on to him tighter. "Please, I'm actually starving! You wouldn't want my father to know that you deprived me of sustenance, right?"

"Fine," he rolled his eyes apathetically and motioned for a nearby waiter. "Menu for the lady."

"Right away sir," the server gave a short bow and left to presumably fetch the menu. I grinned and snuggled back into Marco's arm. He was much more tolerable when he was being nice to me. I liked this side of him!

Now I have to figure out how to kill him. After I took another whiff of his cologne or whatever that was. "My god, whyyy do you smell so good?" I couldn't stop smelling him. This opium was really heightening my senses. Everything felt so good and it was making me very happy.

"What the hell are you— get off me, you freak!" He pushed my face away from his neck with a weirded out look. "Don't be so nasty."

"Oh, trust me," I pulled away from him with a little smirk on my face. "You haven't seen my nasty yet, Marco Polo..." the way he was looking at me with a stunned expression was so amusing. It made me want to s— nope.

The server arrived with five menus and gave one to each, then he said something to Marco in Italian that I couldn't understand because I was high. Or maybe I was just stupid… let's blame it on the opium and call it a day.

I stared at the menu, but my eyes were unable to focus on the words. Once again, being high was a disadvantage right now. "What's the carbonara here?"

"It's the one that says carbonara," Marco pointed it out on the menu. "Can you not read?"

"I'm fucking high on opium, leave me alone," I looked at the server and smiled. "I'll have the carbonara, extra parmigiano. What will you guys have?" I looked at the three guards and waited for them to give the waiter their order.

"I won't have anything," the one who sat in the front seat replied, putting down his menu. "We're here on work, not for lunch."

"Oh lighten up, hulk," I rolled my eyes at him. "You can have a good time for once. It won't kill you."

"Actually," the guard who was on my left in the backseat started. "I'm a little hungry. I'll have the carbonara as well."

"I will have the pesto with chicken," the guard who sat on my right in the backseat ordered.

"What about you, Marco?" I slid my menu over to him. "What will you have?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, crossing his arms and refusing to look at me. "Stop bothering me."

"He'll have the bolognaise," I ordered for him. "are you sure you don't want anything?"

The guard from the front seat shook his head, but literally everyone at the table was looking at him, including the server, so he finally gave in and ordered. "Plain ravioli."

And they say peer pressure is a bad thing.