Mafia!Romano X Reader ~ Wins and Losses

While opening the oven to check on the food for one last time, I wondered, desperate, what else my brother would lose tonight. With that pace, he would soon lose our little apartment, too, for sure, the only thing our parents bequeathed to us.

It had been a few months he had been losing over and over again, even though he was talented in poker. I was by now almost certain the others were actually cheating.

He wasn't playing against any moral people either for me to erase that idea off my head. Playing poker against members of a mafia family undergroup, even if you were one of them, was not wise. But, the years of my brother winning in poker against various rivals – he was very talented indeed – had led him to destructive addiction.

He had already lost almost all of our money and our car. Every afternoon he was sure he would win everything back, but the dept just kept getting bigger. I was honestly fearing we would find ourselves homeless.

Unfortunately, no matter how much I would beg him to quit this terrible habbit, he kept replying that his bad luck wouldn't last for much longer and he would once more leave to meet his poker buddies. I couldn't do anything to stop him. The only option left was to lock him in, but I couldn't really do that to a mafia member even if he was my little brother.

As I took the pizza out of the oven and turned the stove off, I heard keys unlocking the door of the apartment. I headed to the hall to welcome my brother deeply relieved, and mentally thanked God he had returned home so soon that evening. He mustn't have had enough time to bet our house. But, the one who walked through the door was not my brother, but his boss, Mr. Romano.

I stared at him wide-eyed and started shaking. What was he doing here? Had my brother inevitably lost our home?

“Ciao!” he simply said and closed the door behind him. He carelessly threw the keys on the little table next to the door. I noticed they were my brother's. “How are you, bella?” he asked grinning.

“Mr. Romano... Where... Where's my brother...?” I asked trembling, suddenly afraid for his very life.

“I don't know.” he answered, shrugging indifferently. “And my name is Lovino.”

I frowned ready to cry. What did he mean he didn't know? I couldn't help but picture my brother at the bottom of the sea wearing cement shoes. “Please, where's my brother?” I asked quietly and gulped, barely able to keep my eyes from flooding.

Only now noticing my despair, he took a step closer to me and, smiling reassuringly, he answered: “Aw, bella, he's fine!” and he placed a stray strand of my hair behind my ear. His fingertips lightly caressed my neck as he withdrew his hand. “He'll come back, don't worry! He'll just be a little late.” he said. “Is that pizza I smell?” he asked, looking around him, completely changing the subject.

“Yes...” I said confused. So, my brother was well? Where was he then?

“Great!” he said, smiling wider. “Were you planning on eating? I'm a little hungry, I could eat.”

“I was actually going to wait for my brother to eat with him. Is he coming?” I replied, hoping to get more information.

“I told you. He'll be a little late.” he answered, in a suddenly sharp tone, his smile vanishing for a moment.

“Okay...” I mumbled nodding, still greatly worrying over my brother's well-being, but didn't dare ask more. I knew better than to put pressure on a mafia underboss.

I imposed on myself and walked back to the kitchen to put a few pizza pieces in two plates. When I turned around, I realized the mafioso had followed me and was now mindlessly checking the room. “Nice place you have here.” he said.

Our pretty home...

I felt like fainting, but managed to gain my composure quickly and placed the plates on opposite sides of the kitchen table. It wasn't time for me to start crying over the apparent loss: There was a high-ranking mafia member in the house.

The mafioso sat at the seat closest to him and smiled childishly at me. I sat down too and forced myself to start eating. That's what he wanted me to do and that's what I'd do if I wanted to be alive by the time he would leave. Or rather, by the time I would leave...

“So, how are you?” he asked.

“I'm well.” I blatantly lied, more confused than ever. “How are you, Mr. Romano?” I asked back, trying to comply to his obvious will for small-talk.

“I'm perfect!” he replied, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and his eyes momentarely flashed with something I couldn't comprehend. “And don't call me Romano: That's my code-name in the Family and you're not part of it. Call me Lovino. That's my name.”

“But,” I gulped, wondering just what the hell was going on. “You are my brother's boss.” I told him hesitantly.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed cheerful, pointing his index finger at me. “Your brother's boss, not yours.” he said. “To you, I'm just a man.”

I stared at him, and unable to answer anything intelligible, I unwillingly did what he wanted: I acted like nothing weird was happening and forced myself to take a tiny bite off my pizza.

With sparkling eyes he copied me, taking a huge bite, and after he chewed and swallowed, he said: “Ah, that's a very nice pizza! You have talent in cooking, ragazza!” and winked.

“Thank you...” I mumbled.

For a while, he was hungrily eating his pizza while openly observing me with a smirk. He then suddenly, disturbed the silence: “Look, bella, I already told you, but I'll tell you once again: Your brother is fine!” he said leaning a little closer over the table, emphasizing the word "fine". “Okay?”

He looked calm. He seemed sincere. He had no reason to lie. He must have been honest. I took a deep breath in relief. Thank God, my brother was well!

And then, I remembered what he had said only a few minutes ago about our place. “And our house?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Everything's fine, bella, calm down.” he replied with a comforting gesture.

The great relief that overwhelmed me halted me from speaking in the proper, loud manner that news like these would demand. “Thank you, Mr. Romano...”. My voice was nearly a whisper.

A shadow was cast over his suddenly angered eyes. “I said. Call me. Lovino.” he ordered.

“Thank you, Lovino!” I corrected myself quickly and loudly this time, sitting up straight in my chair, scared again.

He grinned once more. “That's more like it.” As he raised his pizza to his lips, I looked at his amber orbs. The previous angered shadow had vanished entirely.

He kept staring at me with amused eyes, while he was devouring his food. My throat was feeling knotted, it was almost impossible for me to eat: I wasn't worrying for my brother nor the house anymore, but his fixation on me was puzzling me profoundly. The fact alone that he was there was very alarming.

“Do you have some red wine? It would match perfectly with the pizza”.

I wanted to scream: “Just what the hell is going on?”, but instead I answered: “Yes, sure.” and got up from the table to open the fridge. In my effort to keep the small-talk going, I gave some information over the wine I was about to serve: “It's greek.” I said raising the bottle for the mafioso to see. “I like it a lot”. I had no idea what I was saying. The wine was greek alright, but I didn't even like alcohol.

“Ah, the Greeks do produce fine wine!” he replied with happy eyes as I was pouring some in two glasses.

I brought the glasses to the table and I would have simply placed his next to his plate, if he hadn't raised his arm to "save me the trouble". He made sure to touch my hand as he was taking the glass from me.

I sat down at my chair again and as I was about to take my half-finished pizza piece, he raised his glass to make a toast. “To tonight, bella!” he said smirking and momentarily raised his eyebrows suggestively.

It was only then I noticed he had been calling me “bella” all this time. “To tonight” I agreed and raised my glass, utterly lost, now.

He grinned and clinked his glass on mine and then, took a sip from his wine.

I took a deep breath and decided that since my brother and the house were safe – so far – and since this man could kill me just because he didn't enjoy my company, I really should be a better host. Finally, I asked: “How was your day?”

“Awesome! I got very lucky today.” he replied, his mischievous smile never faltering.

I had the disturbing feeling he was referring to the poker evening with his minions, but I knew better than to ask.

“I remember meeting you for the first time a few months ago.” he said. “Your brother shouldn't have introduced me as his boss. He knew that. But, we had the bad luck of you overhearing our conversation.”

My mind took me to that moment. It had been a long time I suspected my brother of being – an organized now – scum, but I was honestly hoping I was mistaken. That dreadful day my hopes had all collapsed. “Well, I already knew he was in the mafia. It was no surprise.” I told him. “I really didn't mean to overhear, you know, I'm sorry I did, I was just wondering what my brother had been doing all that time in the men's room.” I said quietly, avoiding his gaze by looking at the tablecloth.

“Yes, bella, I know.” he said. “We had agreed to meet there. Your brother shouldn't have dragged you along.”

I simply nodded. “I think he wanted to kill two birds with one stone.” I replied softly and went on in the same tone: “He knew he would have to be at the multicinema at that time in order to meet you, so he must have thought it was a nice chance to take me out for a movie.” I said. “He is lazy like that.” I concluded and raised my eyes to smile apologetically at the mafioso, trying to make him excuse my brother for his idiocy.

After a small pause, he told me: “You have a beautiful smile. You should smile more often”. His words sounded so genuine.

“Thank you” I replied flattered, avoiding his eyes again.

“I believe he did it so that he wouldn't seem suspicious, walking around the multicinema alone.” he resumed our previous conversation.

I was shocked, but I managed not to show it: “Yeah, that too.” I answered very calmly, taking a small bite of my food. My God, my brother was a worthless punk! After a small pause, I couldn't help but indirectly ask him: “I was terrified for a while. I thought I was in danger for knowing mafia secrets.”

“Oh, I trust you.” he simply said.

“You trust me?” I asked, doubtful.

He smiled. “Yes, I trust you.” he repeated and took a sip from his wine, without breaking our eye contact. “You hadn't learnt anything of importance. Only that I was an underboss of our Family. You didn't even know my real name.” he said, and after weighing his options for a while, he added: “And you were bugged for a month.”

“What?!”

He laughed light-heartedly. “Did you really think I would let you without supervision? You didn't seem dangerous to blab, but I wanted to make sure.” he said amused and took out a cigarette from his package. “You passed the test, bella. Now, I trust you.” he told me with a crooked mouth as he lit his cigarette.

I didn't know what to answer, so I decided to say nothing.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and then, holding it between his fingers, told me, while exhaling the smoke: “I'm gonna need an ashtray.”

I got up and opened a cupboard and sat back in my seat placing in front of him what he had asked for.

For a few minutes, he just smoked serenely, fixing his intense gaze on me. As the smoke was slowly swirling in the air, his powerful calmness managed to fill my whole being. I kept on eating, suddenly feeling slightly dizzy. Was it the smoke or his fierce stare?

He, then, abruptly cut the silence: “Your brother lost your house today.”

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. That's it...

More words arrived to my ears: “But, you can still save it.”

I opened my eyes to look at him again. “How can we save it?”

“Not "we". Only you alone, bella, can save it.” he answered. “Your brother lost your house and then, he had nothing more to bet. I told him that in the next round I'd bet everything he had lost to me – that is everything he had lost – your house, your money and your car if he betted something that mattered to me. To be honest, not your rat-hole of an apartment, nor your collapsing excuse of a car and for sure, nor your peanuts of money are of any interest to me. If he won, he'd get back everything, if he lost, he'd still get back everything if you were willing to give up what he betted.”

“And what happened?” I asked. That previous disturbing feeling was back.

“He lost.” he said, shrugging.

I gulped. “What do we have that is of importance to you?” I asked, dreadful. Our lives were the only thing left. Would we be his slaves until the day we died? Or worse, did he bet our organs? Our kidneys? Our hearts?

“He betted you.” he smirked. “For 24 hours.” he added and suggestively winked.

My shout filled the kitchen: “What?!” and then, remembering who was sitting across from me, I tried to reason: “No, my brother may be a scum, but he wouldn't even imagine of betting a human. Let alone actually doing it! And me of all people, his own sister!”

“Oh,” he mocked with sparkling eyes, delighted, “but you're right, he didn't come up with this idea.” he said, putting off his spent cigarette.

I scrunched my eyebrows together in confusion.

“I did.” he clarified, smirking wider.

For a few seconds we just stared at each other. He was smiling so broadly, little wrinkles had formed at the sides of his eyes. He seemed like a predator that had cornered its poor prey and would finally get to devour it. He could read my thoughts on my expression, I could tell.

“Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way, bella. But, because I'm not a fan of the hard way, let me remind you that if you agree, you get to keep your stuff.”

I got up from my seat and walked to the counter. I brought my palm on my forehead wondering what I should do. I lifelessly dropped my hand again and turned around to look at him.

He was smiling childishly at me, like Christmas had come early. Not at all in a hurry, he got up as well and approached me and calmly placed his hands on the counter, trapping me in between his body and the cupboards.

We locked eyes for a few minutes. While he seemed very composed even though he was grinning, my breath was becoming heavier by the second.

With eyes that sparkled, he gently placed his hands on my arms and slowly brought them to my shoulders. His smile never faltering, he momentarily kissed my sealed lips. It was just a brush, very different from what I'd expect from a mafioso. He kept his grinning face very close to mine. Stroking me ever so slightly, he placed his hands on my nape and kissed me again. This kiss was just as chaste as the previous, but lasted longer.

I was trembling. From fear or desire, I did not know.

His fingertips softly fumbled with my hair, his thumbs were touching the back of my earlobes. He kissed me once more.

This time, my hands curled, lightly tugging at his shirt and only then I realized they had been resting on his torso all that time.

He withdrew slowly and looked at me. His amber eyes seemed brighter than ever, his hot breath was caressing my face. He nuzzled my cheek and leaned to whisper with his hoarse voice in my ear: “Ragazza...”