Spaghetti and Secrets
Adelaide
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"I thought you wouldn't be laying a hand on me?"
He took a sip of his wine before his lips curled up into a malicious smile.
"I don't need to use my hands to punish you, carota. Now finish your answer to my question."
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I couldn't help but smile a little as I leaned back in the wooden chair and polished off the rest of the wine in my glass. I matched his gaze and didn't let any surprise register on my face, I couldn't let him see that he had me flustered.
Fuck it.
"MI6 was more like a boarding school to me. They gave me a room to stay in and food to eat, in turn, I would do their bidding and follow their rules. I wasn't allowed to ask for things of big expense because it would be harder to cover up where they got the money from other organisations and suspicious people in the government."
I reached over the table and picked up the bottle of wine from it's cooler and poured some more into my glass. I found that I was no longer nervous by his presence.
"There were three other assassins that lived in the same corridor as me, for all I know, we were the only people that lived on-site and those in charge didn't want favouritism and competition between us, or at least that was their reasoning."
I took a long sip from my glass before looking into his eyes again.
"Happy?"
He smirked.
"Very."
I finished off the rest of my soup and pondered what I could ask him. He couldn't lie to me, he had promised that when we made a makeshift contract. If he did lie and I found out, I could leave with all the money I had earned and never look back, that is if I didn't break omertà.
I could ask him anything and this time I didn't want to just rile him up for a laugh, I wanted information. Information that I could use. Knowledge is power, or at least that's what the scholars say.
I looked out at the shimmering stars in the distance. I didn't want something too vague. I didn't want anything too specific. Should I ask him about his life? Or about our agreement? Maybe I could ask him about Simon Fawker, the man I killed only a night ago.
"Why am I here, Romano?" Is what I chose to ask him after my internal debate. It may have seemed childish and personal compared to the question he had asked me, but it was weighing on me. I wanted to know if he had any ulterior motives.
He studied me for a few moments, swirling his wine in his glass before replying to my question.
"I want you, Adelaide. Is that so hard to accept?"
At the sound of my name, a shiver went down my spine and my heart sped up. It sounded so good when it fell from his lips. His words, no matter how sweet they were, scared me a little. I couldn't distract myself from the doubt that was poking and prodding my mind saying that if I let him in romantically, I would be trapped by him. He'd already shown that he was possessive. I didn't know him well enough. I didn't know his motives.
He was somewhat of an enigma to me. It was as if there was a light switch inside of him and if you were able to flick it, he would turn deadly. I could relate on that part, it came with the job. But there was some uncertainty there. What horrible things has he done? Would he shun me if he found out the things that I had done?
"Why do you want me? You hardly know me."
His eyes lit up a little at my badgering and a ghost of a smile played on his lips.
"My question." He stated, ignoring my questions.
I huffed slightly and fell back into the clutches of the comfortable chair before a small squeak of the door hinted at someone's appearance. The boy collected the used dishes and placed a steaming bowl of the most heavenly smelling spaghetti that I had ever smelled in front of me.
I shovelled a forkful of the spaghetti in my mouth, almost letting out a moan due to how delicious it was.
"I'm glad you like the food, carota." Romano told me, humour laced in his voice.
He started to eat his spaghetti, not taking his eyes off of me. It was a little weird, but he was Italian so I let it slide.
"Okay, I have my question."
I looked up from the heavenly spaghetti expectantly, waiting for him to pose his question.
"If I kissed you now, would you kiss me back?"
Kiss him?
His question took me off guard.
The truth was that if he kissed me, I wouldn't let myself kiss him back because if I did, it would be admitting that I wanted him the same way he wanted me and I couldn't let myself fall. It would only make it harder for me to leave after all was said and done.
I looked him dead in the eye without a hint of a smile on my face.
"No, I would not."
My voice was cold and detached, something that I didn't particularly like. His eyebrows raised in mock surprise as he refilled his wine glass, tipping mine up in the process.
"Why not?" He questioned, bringing his glass up to his lips.
I felt a smile tug at my lips and I turned to my spaghetti to quickly hide it from him. No way was I going to answer his question.
"My question," I replied, imitating his earlier answer to my questions.
I already knew what I was going to ask him. I couldn't beat around the bush anymore, I needed to know what he was capable of. I needed to know if we were on the same level of evil.
"What's the worst thing you've done?"
I observed Romano's reaction to the question I posed. He was bringing his glass of wine to his lips when he stopped halfway and froze in his chair. The glass was suspended in midair for only a second before he regained his sense, draining the entirety of it's contents before letting out a deep sigh.
"Do you really want me to answer that, poca lattuga?"
(Translation: Little lettuce)
He wasn't smiling anymore. I had switched the light switch inside of him and now instead of the easy-going Romano, he was serious. The edge in his voice made me second guess myself.
Did I want to know?
"Yes."
His eyes flit up to mine. I fought myself to return his penetrating gaze.
Without breaking our intense stare-off, he said,
"I killed my parents."
I couldn't cover up my shock at his words. That wasn't what I was expecting. His gaze never faltered as he continued to stare at my face, registering my reaction to his words.
Maybe we were more different than I first thought. The main difference being that I had never killed someone that I wasn't getting paid to kill.
I never killed for the sake of killing.
I composed myself and thought over his words. His father would've been the previous don of the mafia, so there was probably a hunger for power in his family. Did he kill his parents just for the title? Or was there something more to it?
I let my mind wander to my parents, or at least what I remembered. I didn't know what I would do if I were left in a room alone with them. It had been so long that I'd forgotten their faces.I could embrace them. I could talk to them
I could even kill them.
I smiled at the thought.
"Okay," I said monotonously.
I tipped my wine glass to my lips and gulped down the rest of its contents. I reached over for the bottle but soon realized that we had already drained the entirety of it.
With nothing else to distract myself with, I looked up at Romano. For a moment, with his stoic features, he looked similar to Jamie.
"I thought you'd be more surprised."
I scoffed at his statement. Did he not know what I did for a living?
"How'd you think I would react?" I pestered him, curious about what he thought about me.
As if I'd switched the light switch for a second time, his face lit up as he grinned and looked at me through his thick lashes.
"Y'know, call me a monster, throw your drink all over me and fuck my brother for revenge, the usual."
I chuckled at his statement. It was obvious it was meant as a joke due to the humour laced in histone but it was oddly specific.
"Are you speaking from personal experience?"
He smirked.
"Maybe."
I smiled at him. I was in no place to call him a monster when I had done much worse things in my shorter lifetime. I couldn't help but think that he should be the one calling me a monster, throwing his drink over me, and then fucking my brother.
That is if I had a brother.
"I guess that makes us both monsters." I joked.
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