This chapter is so cute 🥹

Question of the day:
Do you like cooking? 🧑‍🍳

We hardly exchanged anymore words after I gave Costa that compliment on the balcony.

It wasn't unusual for us though, sometimes we'd just exist around each other with very little to say.

We weren't exactly friends - in my opinion, anyway. Sometimes we'd spend time together and maybe have conversations like the one on the balcony that evening, but not always.

And that was okay. Our silences were usually comfortable on the most part.

Considering it was the anniversary of his mother's death, I think I'd prefer silence over the possibility of his anger consuming him.

The next day we were back in the same routine as before - the one where everyone ignored my existence in the house.

From what I observed, October 25th was the only day they let their grief get to them. By the 26th, it was like everything was back to normal.

I expected Costa to be in a bad mood in the morning and I definitely expected his brothers to still be angry too.

But when I arrived to collect my breakfast, they were all talking as if the arguments from last night never occurred.

So we settled back into that routine for two more days. We were due to fly back to New York soon anyway and I was going to stay there as part of my agreement with Costa - three weeks in New York and one week in Sicily.

Costa was busy for the next couple of days and things were settling back into the normal routine that I was used to before we ever went on our trip. It was back to breakfast on my own, spending the day working somewhere in the house and then eating dinner on my own too.

Or so I thought.

"Nadia?" I tentatively stepped into the kitchen where Nadia and Edoardo were talking.

"Yes?" She smiled, her eyes brightening when she saw me. She was by far the most welcoming of the Accardi's towards me.

"Wait, are you going out?" She was dressed in a floor length gown and Edoardo in one of his usual suits.

"Sì, we have an event. It starts early this afternoon."

"Oh." Why did I come in here again?

"Why?" She prodded. "What do you need?"

"Oh, it was nothing. Never-"

"Say it." She snapped, still smiling at me.

Meanwhile, Edoardo was watching me like I was a spider he was sizing up so he could determine what size glass to trap me with.

What a little bitch.

"W-well, it's a special national holiday in Greece today and I kind of felt a little...homesick." I stumbled, hating how weak I sounded in front of Edoardo. "I was thinking maybe I could cook dinner for everyone today - maybe something Greek?"

I sound like an idiot, don't I?

These people hate my family, so I can't imagine they'd want to eat Greek food.

"Of course you can. We won't be eating here tonight but everyone else will be. Go ahead."

"Are you sure? Is that okay?" I addressed Edoardo for the first time while he fiddled with his cufflinks.

"Hm." That was his grand response before he walked past me, heading out the kitchen.

Nadia was quick to gather her things to follow her husband out.

"I've already given Greta and Agata the rest of the day off, so the kitchen is all yours." She smiled, patting my arm. "Just let the others know before they make dinner plans. And make sure you save me some leftovers to try."

"I will." I smiled, watching her leave the kitchen, hot on Edoardo's heels.

A grin formed on my face when I looked around the beautiful kitchen I'd been left with.

I might hardly cook, but having a kitchen like this at my disposal is still every girl's dream.

The first thing I did was text Aidan to let him know I was cooking Greek food for dinner to celebrate Ohi Day.

It's a national holiday on October 28th celebrating the history of Greece during the Second World War. It was also one of my favourite holidays to celebrate in Greece with my family.

He replied back with a thumbs up which gave me the green light to start cooking.

I had a good few hours before dinner and a fully stocked pantry. And I just knew I was going to get carried away.

One thing about me is that when I cook for people, I always go all out. I love to give to people and cooking is such a great way to do that.

Even for a family who had probably never tried much authentic Greek cooking before since they hated the culture so much.

I felt so homesick that morning knowing all my family were in Athens for the holiday while I was in Sicily. I also got restless being cooped up in our room for so long on my own today. Hence why I was willing to cook for so many people on my own.

I made a platter of dips and a filo pastry pie for starters. For mains I made moussaka and, incase they didn't want lamb, some grilled chicken with accompaniments for the main course.

I was almost done cooking the main course a few hours later when the chime of the front gate buzzer sounded through the house.

Most of the time I ignore it because it's none of my business who comes and goes from this house. It could be anyone from a worker to a business contact here to see a member of the Accardi family.

This time however, it was a delivery.

"Pizza's here!" Gio's voice echoed from the entry hall bringing a frown to my face.

"Pizza?" I whispered to myself, stirring the food in the pan. A moment later the twins came into the kitchen with Rocco and Tristano in tow.

"You ordered pizza? But I told you guys I'm cooking tonight." The only one who seemed to care was Aidan, but only a little.

"You really think we'd eat your cooking?" Rocco scoffed, heading over to the fridge to grab a case of beers.

"And it's Greek." Gio added, already chomping away on a slice of pizza. "We hate the Greeks."

"But...you could have told me you didn't want it. I made so much." I looked over at the table where they usually ate breakfast. It was filled with dishes and things ready to be warmed and taken into the dining room.

"You better get eating then, cagna." (Bitch) Rocco laughed, gesturing for the others to follow him with the food they'd ordered.

"Sorry, Millie. We got Costa a pizza too for when he gets home. He doesn't like Greek food either." Aidan gave me an apologetic smile, following his twin and his cousins out the kitchen.

I was already feeling homesick, but being left alone in the kitchen like that just made it a million times worse.

It seemed any progress I'd made with Costa in the Middle East, or even the twins in New York, had been forgotten once we arrived back home.

I was back to being the outsider.

For the next half an hour I finished off the food, the sadness and loneliness weighing heavily in my chest - way more than normal.

It was times like this I wished I could just fly to Greece where I knew my family were. I could have spent the holiday with them, surrounded by people who love me and our culture.

I missed it so much.

But I was stuck here with a bunch of people who could never even consider trying to be civil with me.

"You're cooking?" Costa's voice broke me out of the sullen thoughts knocking around in my head. I barely turned around, just enough to see him standing in the doorway with a frown.

"Yeah."

"Why?" It was the first time I'd done anything like this in their house, so I can't blame him for being confused.

It wasn't my home and it wasn't my place to cook here.

"I just felt like eating something Greek today." I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the food I was stirring in the pan. "But, your brothers ordered you a pizza. They're in the living room I think."

It fell silent, so he must have left to go and have his dinner after the long day he had. It was pretty late in the evening by now. I was starving even after all the snacking I'd been doing while I cooked.

I'm definitely the kind of chef who eats on the job.

I turned off the heat and sprinkled some fresh herbs on the food in the pan. Then I transferred it to a serving dish, already dreading the washing up I'd have to do later.

I made so many different dishes and in my excitement, I completely forgot about all the pans and utensils I'd have to wash up afterwards. I added the latest pan to my pile of dishes, just as a movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention.

He's still here.

Costa had taken off his suit jacket and his tie. He was currently undoing the cufflinks on his wrists, putting them in his pocket. Then he rolled the sleeves up his tattooed forearms, appearing way more relaxed than I expected.

"What are you doing?" I frowned, watching him over by the table where all the food was laid out.

"What?" He asked cluelessly. I hate it when people answer a question with a question.

"I just told you that your brothers ordered you a-"

"I know. I heard you." He murmured, now getting two plates out for us.

He chose to ignore the way I was staring at him like he'd completely lost his mind.

And I'm sure he did lose his mind because then he opened his mouth again and I was ready to combust out of confusion.

"Where shall we eat?"

"We?" I couldn't help but scrunch up my nose, bringing a smile to his face.

"Yes, we. You didn't cook all of this for yourself, did you?" He pointed towards the freaking banquet I'd stupidly prepared.

Sometimes I get carried away.

"Well, no. But we don't usual-"

"You're right." He cut me off causing me to frown. "Moving the dishes to the dining room is pointless."

"But I didn't-"

"Bring me some water when you come and sit down, principessa." He flashed me a grin, pulling back his usual chair to take a seat.

Meanwhile, I was still dumbfounded.

Seriously, what just happened?

So I stupidly took the last dish of food over to my husband who was now looking through the different options. Then I went to get us some water and glasses before I joined him.

Considering we were only eating in the kitchen - which was still a mess after my cooking - the atmosphere was oddly...intimate.

Costa was sat at the head of the table where he usually sits for breakfast and I was sat on his right next to him.

There were hardly any staff left in the house and his family were all off eating somewhere else. So it was just the two of us in the quiet kitchen.

"What's that one?"

"Mousakka. It's lamb and egg plant." Otherwise known as my favourite.

"And that one?"

"Grilled chicken and tzatziki." Also my favourite.

"And that one?"

"Salad." I snapped, putting some in for him while he chuckled.

"You're touchy today." He commented, watching me put a bit of everything on his plate like he requested.

"I'm just tired." I shrugged, handing him his plate.

"No, it's more than that. What's wrong?"

"Are you my therapist now?" I mused, flashing him a pointed look.

"Sì. So answer the fucking question." And he says I'm touchy today. His short temper brought a smile to my face - surprisingly a genuine one too.

"I'm just feeling a little homesick." I lowered my voice, feeling a little uncomfortable to be confessing it to him. "It's Ohi Day in Greece and all my family are in Athens to celebrate. So I thought I'd cook something to get in the spirit."

"But it didn't help." He murmured, thinking out loud. "Why did those fuckers order pizza if you were cooking?"

"You know why, Costa. It's because I was the one who cooked. Plus, Aidan said all of you hate Greek food."

"That's bullshit." He scoffed, pushing his chair back causing it to scrape along the tiles. "I'll go and get them. They shouldn't be-"

"No, leave it. Please." I quickly grabbed his hand to stop him from getting up. "I don't really want to sit with them right now."

"I'm not going to just let them get away with it, Millie." I really didn't expect him to care, let alone appear to be so annoyed by it all. The feeling definitely warmed my heart.

"I appreciate that. But I'd just rather eat in peace." He seemed to have relented, so I let go of his hand so I could start eating.

"Fine." He sighed, turning his attention back to his food.

A moment passed while he quietly tried a little bit of everything I'd put on his plate. He also decided to put his poker face on so I had no clue what he was thinking.

"Well?" The suspense got too much for me and I totally gave away that I'd just been watching him eat like a freak.

Judging by his laughter, he definitely knew I'd been watching him.

"I like it." And that was the second time I smiled that evening.

"Really?" I beamed with pride, watching him take another bite of the moussaka.

"Sì. It's good." I think he was trying to downplay how much he loved Greek food. By the end of our dinner, he'd finished half the moussaka by himself.

Considering it was just the two of us eating, we really got through a lot of the food.

We sat for a while in a comfortable silence while we ate. I was actually lost in my thoughts about my teenage years when my mama started teaching me how to cook Greek food.

At the time I didn't appreciate it, but now I really do. She said it was important I keep a link to my culture and heritage and I couldn't agree more - now at least.

"My mama taught me how to cook this kind of food." I thoughtlessly shared the memory, thinking back to the days she first started teaching me.

"I'm so glad I can do it now, but at first I hated having to learn. I was a teenager who pretty much had the world in the palm of her hands." I rolled my eyes at the thought of how I behaved when I was younger. "The last thing I wanted was to be in the kitchen instead of out doing something fun or even just relaxing."

"Let me guess, you were a spoiled little brat when you were younger?" He smirked, absolutely trying to get under my skin.

"Bitch, don't start with me. You're a spoiled little brat now." He didn't reply but he did scoff to show his disagreement.

I don't know why he disagreed though - this man has more clothes, diamonds and cars than anyone needs.

"But yeah, I guess I was. I just got lost in this world for a few years. Maybe from 16 to 18, before I went to college. You must have experienced it too, though, no?"

"Experienced what?" He frowned, taking another bite of his food.

"The...craze that comes with growing up in such a rich and powerful family. I mean, my father tried to hide the real nature of his work from me for a very long time. But all it did was confuse me."

"How?" He questioned.

"I guess I saw him ordering people around and I saw them treat him with so much respect for some unknown reason. They feared him and I never really understood why. We were also in the public eye as a well respected family. So I just accepted it as my reality. I was a rich teenage girl with all the power and everything she could ever want - I didn't question it."

Costa nodded along, listening carefully to what I had to say. But then he shook his head.

"I never had that." He kept his eyes on his food as he spoke, opening up about his past with me for the first time ever.

"Right from the start I was taught that I was the heir to the most powerful organisation in the world. My father had it ingrained in my head how I was supposed to behave. And then when I didn't live up to his standards, he'd just beat it into me."

I could already sense those kinds of vibes between Costa and his father.

From what I'd observed, his father used the threat of violence and punishments against his sons to get whatever he wanted.

I saw it in the way he'd step closer to them when he was ordering them to do something. Or, the way he outright slapped Costa for disobeying orders.

"He was the same with Rocco and Tristano, but he just didn't start on them as early as he did with me."

"How...how do you still manage to get along with him now? I mean, I know it's not all the time-" The way they argued on his mother's death anniversary was evidence of that. "- but when you're working with him, it seems like everything is fine."

Costa took a moment to answer my question - perhaps because he didn't know how or because he wasn't used to be questioned on topics like this.

I half expected him to tell me to mind my own business, too. I wouldn't have even minded because it really wasn't my business.

"It's complicated, Millie. It's just the way he is - he was raised exactly the same way by his father. He's tough when he thinks he needs to be and he's chilled out at other times."

He paused for a moment, a soft frown forming on his face.

"At the end of the day, he's still my father. When it's my turn to take over, it will be because he's either not here anymore or he physically can't run La Famiglia. At that point, I'm sure I'll be wishing he was tougher on me to teach me everything I needed to know when he's not here to help."

That's the bittersweet thing about the mafia. For the heir to take over, his father needs to be either dead or no longer physically capable of running the organisation.

You only get your chance when someone you love is no longer here.

"Do you..." I hesitated, especially under his intense gaze. I knew bringing up the subject could be a mistake, but it was something I needed to ask him. "Do you have the same opinion when it comes to raising children?"

Costa seemed like he expected the question, but it didn't stop the tension that settled between us.

Children was the one thing we never ever spoke about if we could help it. I even ran away from him at the Japanese restaurant in Dubai just to avoid the conversation. But it was because, even after all these months, his words still rung clearly in my head from the day we signed the marriage contracts.

"Hell no. Forget the fact she's the most infuriating woman I've ever met and I don't plan to sleep with her, ever, I have too many responsibilities right now. My workload is too heavy, a baby is too much."

He was actually disgusted by the thought of having sex with me, let alone a child together.

For a second he averted his eyes away from me, almost as if he knew exactly what I was thinking about. But he didn't say anything about that day or the things he said. He just cleared his throat after taking a sip of his water.

A classic delaying tactic.

"No. I would never do that to my own children. I don't think it's the most effective way of teaching them how to succeed in this life."

"That's good to know, I guess." I barely muttered my response, keeping my eyes down on my food.

"Millie, I-"

"Actually, can we talk about something else?" I quickly cut him off for one reason only. I didn't want him to remind me of his opinions on us having children together.

He could easily tell me not to worry, because we won't be having a child together anyway.

Judging by the way he held my stare, he wasn't happy with me cutting him off. He clenched his jaw, his green eyes still locked on mine.

"Fine." He relented, shifting his attention back to the food. He might have relented, but he didn't make an effort to start another conversation.

Thankfully, before the silence became too suffocating, someone knocked on the kitchen door.

Costa and I turned to see one of the housekeepers standing with an apologetic expression.

"Mi spiace disturbarla, signore. Questo pacco è arrivato per te un paio di giorni fa." (Sorry to disturb you, sir. This package came for you a couple of days ago. ) She spoke as she came over to us, handing the square box to Costa.

"Un paio di giorni fa? Perché me lo dai solo adesso?" (A couple of days ago? Why are you only giving it to me now?) Costa frowned, annoyance lighting up his features.

The housekeeper's eyes widened and she stumbled over her following sentence under his glare.

"Oh...beh, l'avevano al cancello e poi uno dei maggiordomi l'ha portato dentro ma tu eri assente ed era stato dimenticato..." (Oh...well, they had it at the gate and then one of the butlers brought it in but you were away and it was forgotten in-)

"Vai e basta." (Just go) He finally cut her off with a sigh and she quickly scurried away out of the room.

"What was that about?" I questioned, watching as he read the label on the package.

"This was delivered a couple of days ago. She said it was forgotten." He muttered. "It's actually for you."

"For me?" I frowned, putting my fork down. "What would-"

"It's the...uh-the wedding album." He put the package down on the floor, awkwardly clearing his throat.

"Oh." And I thought the stupid housekeeper had good timing.

As it turns out, her timing with the wedding album couldn't have been worse.

We were now plunged into another silence.

"So...how was your day?" I said the first thing I could think of - awkwardly trying to start a different conversation.

"My day? You want to know about my day?" He cocked an eyebrow, amusement shining in his eyes.

At least he can see the funny side to it.

"Sì." Boss bitches don't backtrack, no matter how stupid the question was.

He studied me for a moment before leaning back in his chair, resting his tattooed arm on the free chair next to him. He was now relaxed into the classic manspread position, his legs stretched out wide in front of him.

And I just knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate on a single fucking word he was going to say about his day.

"Well, first I had a meeting with a sleazy politician who was trying to blackmail me for more donations to his campaign. That didn't end very well. Then I had to deal with a mess the twins made with some suppliers. After that, I took this hot blonde out for lunch and then we fucked in my office."

"That's not even funny." I snapped, hating the strange emotion that suddenly filled my chest at the image he painted.

"Jealous, principessa?" He smirked, his green eyes twinkling with humour.

"I have nothing to be jealous of." I quipped back immediately, eyeing his perfectly sculpted body for emphasis. His smirk only widened because we both knew it was bullshit.

"Plus, you just inhaled half the food I cooked. So we both know you didn't take anyone out for lunch. You hardly ever eat lunch anyway, you don't have time." I murmured, using knowledge that was apparently stored deep in my subconscious.

While he might have slept with some woman today, I knew he never had lunch.

From my experience being married to him for the last four months, I knew he was more of a two meal a day kind of guy. Usually it was a late breakfast after the gym and then dinner.

And this knowledge definitely irritated my husband. Let's not forget he hates it whenever I understand him and his behaviours.

"Fine, whatever. I had a four hour meeting with my father." He admitted - and for some reason this filled me with a sense of satisfaction and...relief? "Now I'm having dinner with my irritation of a wife before I finish the day with a bottle of whiskey to cure my migraine."

"Aw." I smiled. "How cute. Maybe take some painkillers too. I heard for a guy your size, you need to take two bottles or maybe even three bottles. You know, just to be on the safe side."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He seemed mildly amused by my very friendly suggestion.

"Well, It wouldn't make me sad. Perhaps I'd feel a little guilty for suggesting the wrong dosage, but only for a few minutes. Once I get rid of all your things from your closet, I'd be happy with the extra closet space."

The thought of having extra closet space was definitely appealing.

It means more shopping.

Plus, I'd have a good share of Costa's money to spend too since I'm his wife.

Why is this suggestion making me so happy right now?

"You'd really send me to my death over more closet space?" He scoffed.

"Bitch, I'd send you to your death over the last bit of toothpaste in the tube." I replied.

The sudden laugh that escaped his lips had me smiling involuntarily. "You're so fucking lazy you always leave me to open the new toothpaste in the bathroom."

It's true.

I'd rather stubbornly squeeze the life out of the finished tube instead of taking a new one out of the cupboard.

"I am." I agreed with a smile, taking another bite of my food as the previous tension completely evaporated.

Fuck.

That's all I could think whenever she smiled like that.

The more time passed, the more aware I was becoming of my feelings. They were growing stronger and stronger and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

And she had no fucking clue.

She was completely oblivious, even as I watched her eat like a fucking creep.

Side note - why the fuck is Greek food so good? It's not supposed to be good.

Or maybe it's just the way my wife made it. Of course she had to be fucking good at cooking too.

I've come to realise there's very little she's not good at.

She even managed to keep me calm on the anniversary of my mother's death - something no one has been able to do for the last four years.

I kind of lied to her when I told her I spent the previous anniversaries alone. I technically did spend them alone, just after I killed a bunch of people who pissed me off.

My logic was always that working my anger out on others would help - not that it ever did.

But being around Millie took away that blood thirst that I'd experienced before. Things were just different with her around but I can't explain why.

There was one minor problem I was facing though. Every fucking thing I ever said to her was coming back to bite me.

Despite the way our relationship had changed over the last few weeks after our trip away, she still wasn't over the things that happened at the start of our marriage.

She could never have a normal conversation about children without getting spooked every time I opened my mouth. She did it in Dubai when we ate at the Japanese restaurant on the balcony and she did it tonight.

Things also hadn't changed much in this house which was starting to piss me off. I wanted her to be happy, but everything from our situation and our past was working against me.

"Did you have a good day?" The question slipped out before I could realise how stupid it sounded coming from me.

I'm Costa fucking Accardi. I don't ask people how their day went.

The problem was, I actually wanted to know how she was doing after we got back to Sicily. Let's not forget the whole reason I even took her to New York and the Middle East with me in the first place. Three weeks ago she had that nightmare about Viktor Kozlov after he cornered her at the gala. She was also struggling to be here in an unfamiliar place away from her family.

But now we're back here and this was my first chance to ask her how she was doing.

"My day was the same as normal here." She shrugged, taking a moment to sip on her water. "I had breakfast and then did some work for a couple of hours. It was only after I spoke to Damian that I started feeling restless and cooped up so I decided to come here and cook."

"How can I make it better?" Another thing that was out of character for me. But I wanted to make it better. I didn't want her to be sad here anymore.

She said it herself the other night - we're not in the same place as we were when we got married. I wanted her to feel more comfortable here.

"I don't know. It's nice of you to ask, Costa, but there really isn't much you can do. This isn't my home and I don't think anything will ever change that." She gave me a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes.

Millie was good at trying to cover up her emotions and others might fall for it. Actually, most people would fall for it because she was very skilled at it. But I was an expert at reading people and to me, she would always be an open book.

Hence why I knew was still angry about the baby conversation we had at our engagement party.

"You've already done enough anyway." She continued. "You agreed to let me spend three weeks of the month in New York." And now her smile was genuine again.

"Sì. You're coming with me in a couple days, right?"

"Mhm." She nodded, taking the final bite of her food.

As soon as they were confirmed, I let her know of my plans to go to New York in a few days so she wouldn't have to travel back on her own.

I had a meeting in New York then I had to fly to Chicago for a few days. It would also be the first time I'd be leaving her alone in New York since we got married.

I was already planning to triple her security - not that I was going to tell her. She'd just throw another tantrum about having too many guards following her.

But she didn't understand the risk I was taking by letting her stay there alone without me or my brothers there.

For my own peace of mind, I needed to know she was being watched at all times by separate teams. If something ever went wrong then there would always be another team watching from a distance.

We finally finished up the food and Millie released a sigh, pushing her chair back.

"See you in a few days." She pouted, picking up our empty plates.

"What?" I laughed, watching her head over to the sink.

"I have all this washing up to do." She gestured to the huge mountain of pots and pans by the sink and also some littered around the kitchen.

"Leave it. You don't have to do that." I also stood up, taking our empty glasses over to where she stood.

"But I'm the one who cooked so-"

"So nothing. We have people for this." I assured her, taking her hand to tug her away from the huge pile of dishes. She really wasn't joking when she said she'll see me in a few days. The pile was fucking huge.

"But-"

"Leave it, Millie. Just go upstairs and take a bath or something to relax." My phone started ringing while I tried to convince her it wasn't her job to clean up.

If anything, that housekeeper who lost my fucking parcel could come and do it.

"Just go upstairs. I'll bring the wedding album up after I take this." I held up my phone, already dreading the call I had to take.

"But-"

"Go, Millie." The stern look I gave her had her relenting immediately, with narrowed eyes.

"Fine. But I'm going because I want to and not because you're saying it."

"Okay." I laughed, watching my stubborn wife stomp out the kitchen.

Thankfully, the phone call with my father only lasted a few minutes, then I grabbed the album, heading upstairs to our room.

My steps slowed as I approached the door, my eyes landing on Millie who stood outside with a traumatised expression. She was staring at the doors to our room like they were the fucking gates of hell.

"Millie? Cosa c'è che non va?" I asked by mistake in Italian before quickly translating. "What's wrong?"

She turned to face me as I reached her in the hallway and she immediately buried her face in my chest. I wrapped my free arm around her shoulders, holding her against me to calm her trembling body.

"S-spider."

I know it's fucking mean.

But I just couldn't help it. I burst out laughing.

I buried my face in her hair, struggling to control my laughter while she sniffled in my arms.

"Don't laugh at me!" She pulled away just enough to glare at me. Her tear-filled eyes were narrowed and her nose was tinted red from her crying.

Despite laughing at her irrational reaction to the spider, I also hated the sight of her tears.

It just brought out a possessive rage - something I'd never felt before.

I didn't want her to cry. I wanted to eliminate every fucking thing on this earth that could ever make her cry.

"S-sorry." I chuckled, clearing my throat. I took a step away to put the album down on a nearby console table so I could hug her properly. "It's okay. I'll deal with it. Where is the spider?"

"On the wall in our room." She mumbled, another stray tear falling down her cheek.

I used my thumb to wipe it away, guiding her face back to my chest.
"Don't cry. Lo sistemerò." (I'll sort it)

The only reply I received was a sniffle while I stroked her hair.

"Aidan!" I screamed suddenly and surprisingly she didn't even flinch. When the idiot didn't come, I called him again and then a third time.

A moment later he opened his door at the other end of the hallway.

"What?" He snapped irritably, stepping out into the hallway in just a towel. He also had shampoo lathered in his hair.

Fucking idiota.

"Go and kill the spider in our room."

"A spider? What the fuck? Why me?" He frowned, trudging down the hallway barefoot.

"Because I fucking said so." I ordered, nodding towards our bedroom door.

"But I'm all wet." He frowned, clearly accepting defeat already.

"It's by the fireplace." Millie turned her head to give my cousin the final instructions. She didn't even seem concerned when she saw his wet state.

She was seriously traumatised by that spider.

With a frustrated sigh, Aidan went into the bedroom, closing the door behind himself.

"See? It will be sorted soon." I smiled down at my wife who was finally starting to calm down.

Only a second later a thud followed by a high pitched squeal came from inside the room. Both Millie and I turned to stare at the door when another series of squeals sounded.

"Maybe a little longer than soon." I sighed at my cousin's inability to complete even the simplest of tasks.

"What's going on?" Suddenly twin number two appeared, frowning at the commotion going on behind the door.

"Go and help your brother kill the spider." I shoved him towards the door, keeping one arm around Millie.

"He can't kill a spider?" Giovanni laughed, sauntering confidently towards the door. "Don't worry, bitches. I'll handle this."

He then also entered the room, leaving Millie and I alone again.

"You're struggling to kill a spider? Really?" Giovanni laughed from behind the closed door. "Look, it's not that- fuck! Get it!"

Now we had double the screeching and twice as many thuds coming from inside.

"Aidan!"

"I'm trying!"

"Just catch it!"

"You fucking catch it!"

"I'm trying! Ah!" Giovanni screeched and then something glass smashed.

"Ice cream?" Millie suddenly suggested, turning to look at me with her cute red nose.

"Sure."

<<<<<<< >>>>>>> <<<<<<<

"What's your favourite flavour?" Millie asked me as we walked into the gelato place.

It was one of the most popular ones in the city centre of Palermo. Millie wanted to try it, so we had to brave the evening traffic into the city - something I'd only do for her.

"Depends on my mood." I shrugged. "Usually I get mint chocolate chip or maybe tiramisu or pistachio."

"So all the boring flavours?" Millie mused, dragging me over to the counter.

"Mint isn't boring." How is mint boring?

"Yes it is." She replied, her tone dripping with finality.

I guess it's fucking boring.

She took her sweet time ordering a mix of three different scoops and toppings. Afterwards I stuck to my boring scoop of mint chocolate chip.

"You won't be able to finish all of that." I scoffed, watching the server put her monstrous order together.

"Yes I will." She's stubborn as fuck.

"No, you won't." She may be stubborn, but I knew her too well by now.

"Watch me, cagna." (Bitch) She spoke determinedly before pasting a smile onto her face as she took her ice cream.

She left me to pay while she went off to find somewhere to sit. Then I joined her with my civilised single scoop of mint chocolate chip.

I wasn't even surprised when we sat in a comfortable silence. She was so busy shovelling ice cream into her mouth she didn't have time to say anything stupid.

And I had the pleasure of watching her eat in peace so I wasn't complaining.

"Costa?"

"Hm?" I lazily rose an eyebrow at her while she sucked the spoon clean, sliding it out from between her plump lips.

It turns out, watching her eat ice cream is really fucking painful.

"I don't think I can finish all of this on my own." My wife sheepishly admitted, taking another bite of her huge ice cream.

She'd barely made a dent in it during the fifteen minutes we were sitting down.

"No shit." I replied, resisting the urge to smile at the cute expression on her face.

"Will you help me?" She smiled, sliding the huge cup towards the middle of the table.

"What do I get out of it?" I rose an eyebrow at her teasingly.

"Uh...free ice cream?" Millie frowned, eyeing me like I was a psycho or some shit. "What more could you want?"

Is she forgetting I paid for it?

"Why? Are you offering something else?" She seemed confused at first until I flashed her a smirk along with a wink.

The action caused her cheeks to tinge red and she cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably on her chair.

"No. Now, hurry up, it's melting." She muttered, sliding it towards me.

So fucking cute.

It just gives all the right feels 😍

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