My manager Olivia had wanted to show me the nightlife around here, so she had brought me to the busiest pub in town.

By busiest, it meant there were around ten people in total in here on a Friday night, but I didn't care at all. It was a vastly different to the fancy restaurants and nightclubs I was used to back in the city, though.

Even though the cafe was open only on weekends, tomorrow's Saturday was a national holiday so it was closed, enabling our night out.

The first new thing I learnt about Olivia after we had arrived at the bar was that she loved to drink. We had started off with two tequila shots each and had then settled down at a small booth in the corner and ordered more drinks.

After a few hours after my nth glass of wine I had given up trying to keep up with her and her sky-high tolerance. We were laughing at the silliest things, getting to know each other and becoming more friends than we'd been before.

As the evening progressed, a few of her friends - who were at least 20 years older men and women - joined our table.

Everything was all fun and games until my phone began buzzing with a call. I slipped it out of my pocket and discreetly checked who was calling me while Olivia was in the midst of a funny story.

My heart stopped for a second when I saw that Ben was calling me.

It was almost midnight and he had almost never called me, which immediately made me jump to the conclusion that something had happened to Mr Capra Sr.

Panicked, I excused myself and exited the pub. I sat down on a nearby bench as I was rather tipsy by now, before bringing the phone up to my ear and answering.

"Ben," my voice came out completely breathless and shaky, one part nervous to actually be talking to him and hearing his voice while another part of me dreaded bad news about his father.

"Sofia, hey," his low voice was calm, not upset which would have hinted at something having happened to Mr Capra Sr, "are you busy?"

"Is everything okay? Has something happened to your father?" I asked shakily, bringing my free hand up to cover my mouth as I still expected the worst.

"He's fine," Ben replied, his voice like smooth bourbon, travelling through my body in a wave of warmth, "I just called to talk."

"To talk. Oh. Okay," I slowly replied, unable to hide the fact that I had drank quite a bit tonight, "yes."

"You've been drinking?" He chuckled and I could hear him shift around, sounding as if he was already in his bed getting ready to go to sleep soon.

"A bit," I admitted with a smile, not comprehending that I was actually talking to him, "it's so good to hear you voice."

He was quiet for a moment before replying, "ditto, sweetheart."

I most likely would have cried even if I had been sober now, so it was no surprise to me that a hot tear rolled down my cheek slowly. It hurt to know that he was so far away.

"Are you with friends or alone?" He asked after a moment.

"I'm with my friend at a pub. I came outside alone, I thought something had happened to your father. You've never called me just to chat," I explained my situation while fighting the slight slur in my voice.

"Sorry if I freaked you out," I could hear the grin in his voice, "wasn't my intention."

"It's fine," I giggled and shook my head at myself, "I'm just worried about him."

"He's doing good, though," Ben assured me, "you have nothing to worry about."

I just sighed, not wanting to start crying to him about how I could already see Mr Capra Sr's age affecting him and his motor skills.

"Do you want to get back to your friend or can you talk for a few minutes?" He cleared his throat, his voice making me want to close my eyes and revel in the way it made me feel.

"We can talk," I replied almost shyly, "how- how are you?"

"I'm good. A lot's been going on," he told me, "what about you?"

"I'm okay. A lot's been going on at my end too," I giggled to myself, not fully realising just how drunk I was, "I miss you so much."

Again he was quiet for a moment before unsurely asking, "you do?"

"Yes," I huffed out pitifully, "it sucks."

"I probably shouldn't say this, but if it makes you feel any better I miss you too," he chuckled quietly, sounding as if he really was trying hard not to mess this up, "listen, Sofia, you're drunk. Maybe it's best if—"

I only realised to an extent how drunk I was when I cut him off with a sudden sob, my whole being filled with a rush of emotions.

"I can't get over you."

Ben didn't say a word. I sniffled and tried to stop being such an emotional mess, but hearing his voice after such a long time had triggered it; a deep sense of longing.

"Sofia, who's your friend? Do you trust them to make sure you get home safely?" He finally broke the silence, only hurting me more by ignoring what I'd just admitted to him.

"Ben, I can't get over you," I repeated desperately, sniffling again, "please, say something."

"You won't remember this in the morning anyway, so what the hell.." he muttered his thoughts aloud before speaking, "I can't get over you either. It physically hurts to miss you this much, it's crazy."

"Ben," I couldn't help but let another sob leave my lips.

"Yes?" It was clear from his voice that this wasn't what he had expected when having called me, but this was just something he had to deal with now.

"Please come to me," I basically whispered, "now."

"Sofia, I can't. It would take me four hours to drive to you and I would need to wake up my driver," he sighed apologetically, "I'm sorry. There's nothing I want more than to—"

"How do you know where I live?" I had to ask, "did your father tell you?"

"No, I—" he began, chuckling uncomfortably, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay, so I... well, you know..."

"Never mind," I brushed it off, reminding myself of exactly who he was and that everyone's information was in his reach, "come to me tomorrow. I have the day off."

"You're drunk. You won't remember having invited me," he spoke with hints of amusement, yet an underlying tone of disappointment.

"I will," I insisted, sniffling yet again, "please, Ben?"

He was quiet for a short moment, thinking it over.

"Alright, I'll drive there tomorrow. Can you write it down somewhere so that you'll see it in the morning?"

"Yes, yes," I motioned with my hand for him to forget it even when he couldn't see me, "Ben?"

"Yes, Sofia?" He was being incredibly patient with me, which warmed my heart further.

"Do you love me?" The words just seemed to spill past my lips, my brain not catching up with them.

"What?" Ben chuckled, "where did that come from?"

"Please, be serious," I begged, "do you love me?"

He breathed out a deep exhale, "I don't know. It's too fast—"

"If you feel it, you feel it. Time has nothing to do with it," I explained.

"God, you're drunk," I could just imagine him shaking his head at me, "Sofia, I think it's best if you get your friend and have her walk you home now. We can talk about this tomorrow."

"Ben," I disregarded what he'd said and focused on his name.

"Yes?"

"Ben," I started giggling, "Ben."

"What is it, Sofia?" He sighed, putting in a lot of effort not to sound annoyed because I was sure he was.

"You have such a silly name," I smiled widely, incredibly amused by my own thoughts, "you're the don of the mafia and your name is Ben."

"You don't like it, then?" I could hear the smile in his deep voice.

"I like your name, I think it's the sweetest. It's just more fitting for a primary school teacher..." I ended up bursting into laughter.

"Ouch," he chuckled, knowing not to take me too seriously in this state, "you can blame my parents for it."

I forced myself to calm down after laughing a little while longer.

"Ben? Are you still there?" I rushed to ask, realising it had been rather quiet on his end.

"I'm here."

"I'm going to go home now," I told him gently, "it was nice talking to you."

"Yes. Stay safe," Ben cleared his throat once more, "I'll see you tomorrow."