One of the best things is when you climb on and kiss me like you own me. Because you do,

                       ~J.M.Storm~

               Romano

Walking away from Stefano felt liberating, not because it solved all my problems, it barely scratched the surface, but because I knew I would never see him alive again. In a way, this was a farewell conversation, ironic as it sounded; seeing him one last time felt like her world got a little bit safer. Bruno raised his right hand, gesturing me to throw him the car keys, which I did even though I was skeptical about my new car's fate, but I wasn't feeling like driving, so I did. He smiled a mischievous slip of a smile that held excitement and impatience, and I knew we were about to get home in no time. "Don't kill us, "I said as soon as we all got into the car. He sniggered, "You're still alive, aren't you?" He mumbled, reversing the car like he was in a race track missing Stefano's truck by an inch. "Jesus Christ, B, will you ever learn to respect other motorists?" He laughed in exhilaration, his face taking up a thrilling expression like a young boy with a new toy, or a teenager with his first date. But Bruno was always like this with cars. He spoke about them like a man spoke of a woman he was attracted to,

I leaned my head on the seat, wondering what I was going to do. I didn't know where to begin; I felt suffocated as if someone was sitting on my neck, choking me. Closing my eyes, I remembered the first time I met Mia, crying, and afraid. I can't let that happen to her ever again, I thought, as a wave of shock shoved me to the front with a remarkable force when Bruno unexpectedly hit the brake. "I thought you said you'd never kill us." I snapped, gently rubbing my neck. This was why he was always announcing 'buckle up!" as if he were a flight attendant reminding passengers in a pleasant voice to do the same. Except Bruno's voice was boisterous and always sounded like a warning.

"You're talking; you ain't dead," he stated without sparing me a glance, just kept on driving. But Devonni laughed, the sound filling the car. "Can't we just kill Stefano." He said without preamble. For a few seconds, I wasn't sure if he realized he'd said that loud. I stared at the back of his head since he sat directly in front of me, waiting for it to hit him, and when it hid, he mumbled through it without so much success.

"His death will be at our disadvantage at this moment." I murmured, coming to his rescue, running my fingers through my hair in frustration. I wanted to scream, I wished it was possible to scream out the frustrations that I felt, but more so the fear that seemed to walk with me since Stefano discovered Mia was still alive. I could not imagine living in the world without her in it or a world where she was held against her will to satisfy perverted men's urges. I had a feeling I would become unmanageable and destructive. "Why so?" Devonni asked. I sometimes envied his innocence, but I still wouldn't want to be as clueless as he was in a world where men devoured each in cruelty, without a fraction of an ounce of mercy, a world where the weak cannot and do not survive.

"Because Silvio will claim Stefano promised the daughter to him, It will take a never-ending battle that will probably be tabled for the head of the family members to discuss and judge who between us deserves her." I groaned, "I cannot let that happen." I said in a low, determined voice. "How about we kill them both?" Even in my misery, I laughed, not because it was funny, but because of how he said it. "The man is huddled somewhere out there hiding from me because he thinks I might ambush him guns brazing, killing him can't be as easy as you imagine. Not to mention killing the head of a family is an entirely different thing. It invokes unnecessary wars." All through the conversation, Bruno remained silent, but still maintaining his driving speed.

A few minutes later, we were home. Bruno's driving was necessary at times; I would even go a step further and call it godsend. Getting out of the car, I noticed Bruno was still seated. "Are you going to sleep in here?" I asked jokingly, but he didn't find it funny because he threw me an irritated glance tossing me my coat right in my face. "You know I prefer beds." Although I had a lot in my mind, I laughed, leaving him smoking while I walked beside Devonni.

Time to see my girl. I missed her; I thought, a smile on my face as I took the corner to my house. It was crazy how much I missed her even though I saw her just a couple of hours ago. But a few minutes later, I wasn't smiling; I was frantic. I couldn't find her. "Where the hell are you?" My voice sounded both scared and commanding." Mia did not speak, but I could hear her breathing, which told me she was either upset or frightened.

"Tell me where you are," I ordered again, pacing through the bedroom floor as if it would keep me from breaking into tiny, scared pieces. "Why are you mad at me?" I wasn't mad at her; I was going mad imagining scenarios where she was tied up or harmed. "Bella mia," I called gently, so gently, I wasn't sure she would hear me." "Please tell me where you are," I pleaded, leaning my forehead on a bedpost, feeling sweat dripping through my temples. "I'm in your kitchen." She must have heard the appeal on my voice because she whispered back without hesitation. I run down the hall, almost falling.

Damn, this huge house!

I muttered as I righted myself, entering the kitchen without stopping to regain my normal breathing. There she was, standing by the kitchen counter, flour everywhere, even at the tip of her nose. She looked devastatingly beautiful, even with her eyes narrowed at me, both of her hands holding a small dough. I knew she wasn't going o say a single word to me before I did.

"Bella mia," I called, taking a few steps towards her, but not close enough, I stood with my hands on top of the kitchen island, facing her while she remained looking like she was judging me and about to decide I was guilty.

"You shouted at me."

That statement was full of emotions, one of which was hurt. "I'm sorry," I whispered, the contrite on my voice, another new experience. She fluttered her eyelashes, and I wasn't sure whether she was reacting to my apology or flirting with me. I felt as if I was in a foreign land where I had no idea how to behave. This whole experience was new to me.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

This time, she looked at me in awe, as if she had finally figured something out.

"Why?" She asked, rubbing at the edge of her nose, her hands leaving a white streak in its wake. "I couldn't find you; I thought something bad happened."

She narrowed her eyes at me again; this was becoming a habit, I thought as our eyes remained on each other. "Where would I go?"

"I was scared," I admitted. Her eyes softened, before her lips spread in a beautiful small smile that told me she'd forgiven me for shouting at her. "I'm okay." She whispered while still holding my gaze.

"What are you cooking?"It was either ask something or jump her. Moving her eyes from mine, she looked around the mess on the kitchen Island before shyly saying she was trying to bake.

"Bake what exactly?" she raised her shoulders slightly as if she had no idea what she was doing as well. "I think I'm baking a small bread," she mumbled, placing the small dough she held on the oven pan before slapping her hands together to get the flour off.

I burst out laughing, going around and snatching her up into my arms, carrying and placing her on the island's edge away from whatever the hell she was baking. Placing my forehead in hers, I breathed in her scent even though it was now a mixture of her essence, flour, and cooking oil. We stayed like that for a while.

"Why are you cooking, Bella mia?" she didn't say anything for a bit, but she moved her face to hide in my neck, kissing my throat. I groaned, "Bella Mia," I warned, basking in the feeling of being in her arms.

"Let's not start something you can't finish." She giggled, with her lips still touching my skin. I felt the vibration of her laughter right down to my heart. It hit me like it often does since I met her, that the level of feeling I had for this woman was unmatched. It would make me or consume me; either way, I was content.

"I promise to finish it." She said while combing through my hair with her fingers. "Then, when do you plan to finish baking your small bread?" She jumped out of my arms, rushing back to cook her bread, leaving me standing desolate, wondering why she hadn't kissed me yet. But I was comforted in the knowledge that I had made her forget what she'd been doing.

"Soph taught me to do this." she threw me a glance while she brushed what I imagined was butter all over the small dough. I didn't have the heart to say she was doing it wrong, I wasn't good at cooking either, and she looked so excited she chatted all through the whole process. I listened without interruption, nodding when required, and asking the appropriate question. Who would have thought, they'd come a time when I would enjoy aimless chatter? But enjoy, I did. She filled my silence with the update of her favorite shows and characters without caring that I had no idea who any of them were. But she was a great storyteller; she made want to sit down and watch all those shows she talked endlessly about, but I wouldn't have the time. The only thing I was this enthusiastic about was football.

"I will eat whatever kind of bread you're cooking, but I'm still eating Soph's food for dinner, right?" she nodded, touching the tip of my nose with her finger, and I knew I had flour on it. She gazed at me lovingly, then leaned over and kissed the flour off my nose.

On god! my heart felt like it was getting out of my chest.

There were different ways in which this woman drove me crazy, and yet I couldn't, for the life of me name one at that time. She was so lively and adorable; it made my heart ache that something might happen to her, and I might not be on time to save her. I stared at her, my eyes, I knew, were filled with lust, want, and passion while hers gazed at me with passion and love. It was in the way she touched my face, the way she had a habit of kissing parts of me that I never thought anyone would think of kissing like my chin, or my adam's apple. 

"What are you doing to me, Bella?" I whispered into her ear, getting up and hoisting her on top of the kitchen island just like I had done a few minutes ago. She felt so light and right into my arms as if she was created for me.

"Let me make love to you." her breath hitched, her body trembled even though the kitchen was warm enough, her hands held onto my arms. "In here?" She sounded surprised and yet thrilled.

Oh, she wanted the experience. Lucky for both us, so did I. "Yes, in here." I whispered as I leaned down to kiss her. "I've wanted to do this since I walked in here," I said, feeling her arms around my neck, holding me as if she never wanted to let me go.