"Ok..." Smith seemed at a loss for words, "How exactly, if you don't mind me asking, does me being ordained help you?" He looked Angelo dead in the eyes.

Angelo sucked in a deep breath, "As you already seem to know, I'm in the mafia and my father is now out of prison. I've been knocked down a few positions, so I'm almost completely useless now. Chloe here is in trouble and the only way I can get her out of it is with your help."

Ohh boy. This is getting really serious really fast.

"Why is she in trouble?"

"Mr. D'Amico is out to get her," Luca said, "We all know she's the most harmless creature alive, but he doesn't, and he's not going to stop until she's sleeping in a million pieces six feet under."

Graphic.

"So...how does marriage keep her safe from him? If he's in the mafia, doesn't that mean he'll kill her no matter what?" Eleanor asked, which totally surprised me. I thought she had gone mute. I liked her question though because I was wondering the exact same thing.

"Much like the Christians, mafia men live by a set of Ten Commandments," Angelo said, "One of them being that you shall not ever lay a hand on another man's wife. We have consequences in the mafia for not following the rules that are set. No one, not even the Boss is protected from the punishments."

Ah, makes sense.

But now I had a question.

"Why can't you just kill him? None of you seem to be thrilled by his presence. Who would miss him?" I asked.

"We don't kill our own, Chloe," Angelo said calmly, "That's another rule."

"Why don't you just hide her from him then?" Smith asked.

Questions! Questions galore!

Angelo went from calm to annoyed real fast. He sighed, "That didn't work so well last time. She still somehow managed to find trouble among some of the worst criminals. We're not doing that again."

"So this is my only option then?" I asked.

Angelo nodded.

What does one do when one is smushed in between two scary criminals on a plane?

The answer is simple.

Thou shalt try to sleep on the less scary criminal.

I had Mr. D'Amico seated on my right and Angelo on my left by the window. I rested my head on his shoulder and stared out the window with heavy eyelids.

For once in my life I was going to do everything in my power to stay the hell awake. There was no way I wanted to fall asleep while Mr. D'Amico had a raging hard on for my death and I knew that Angelo couldn't kill him because that's "treason".

The part that absolutely terrified me the most though, was the fact that Mr. D'Amico actually seemed like a genuine person...around me at least. He had tried on multiple occasions to make friendly conversation with me and every single time Angelo would say something to shut me up.

"So...what happened to the jet?" Mr. D'Amico asked. It was a legitimate question that I was curious to know the answer to as well. Every single time that I've ever been on a plane in the presence of mafia men, I was on their private jet. Now we were on a plane with normal people and we weren't even in first class. What's up with that?

"It's having work done," Angelo answered as simply as possible. I had a strong feeling he was telling a small fib though. Nothing was ever simple with him. That's probably how he thought about me though.

"Ah, I see. So where are we going then? Italy? Napoli? I know you're not taking me to see that crazy mama of yours. I broke things off with her for a reason, bambino. Do not bring me back to her."

Angelo said nothing.

"Where are we going, dearest Chloe?" He asked me now, and I was just waiting for Angelo to jump in and say something but he never did.

I took that as an invitation to answer, "Angelo said-"

"Chloe, trade me spots," Angelo said urgently. "The window is making me dizzy," he stood up. I waited for a moment before unfastening my seatbelt (it was unnecessary to have it on at the time but I liked being safe) and crawling into the seat next to mine. Angelo was seated again and doing everything in his power to avoid Mr. D'Amico's questions.

"I thought you said you didn't like Chloe. Why is she here with us if you don't?"

I don't think this was a question that could be ignored, and judging by Angelo's facial expression, he thought the same thing.

"She still owes me money from when we had to shut down for a couple weeks. She's prone to escape and or find herself in a rivals hands. She has done so before. I can't let money get away while I'm gone, so here she is."

That also translates to: "She's going to Italy with us because we're getting married but you don't get to know that yet because you'd shoot her on the spot."

Or chop her into a million tiny pieces and then shoot her.

"So why not have some other men watch her closely back at the mafia house?"

"Because no one watches her close enough."

"Ah. Alright."

Mr. D'Amico checked into a hotel as soon as we landed in Italy. But the rest of us, meaning: Luca, Dom, Eleanor, Smith, Francesco, Angelo and I, were all hungry, so we found a restaurant and that's where we currently were.

Eleanor and Smith got their own booth. Dom, Luca and Francesco sat together in another one. And Angelo and I, like Eleanor and Smith, got our own as well. We ordered a pizza with almost everything on it and were currently waiting on it to come.

"Where are we staying?" I asked while nervously tapping my fingers against the shiny wooden table.

Angelo looked up from his phone. I actually laughed when I saw that he was playing some game, Subway Surfers or something like that, "Oh. At my mom's house," he answered before looking back down, just to turn his phone off.

"Ok," I said slowly, "So I have a question."

He smiled of so very slightly, "Of course you do."

"Do I at least get a ring?"

I had dreamed of getting married ever since I was...twelve, so not as long as most girls but I still knew what I wanted. I wanted a big fat engagement ring that screamed wealth and class and a husband that looked almost the same way, minus the fat part. I guess I almost had everything I ever wanted.

"Do you want a ring, Criceto?"

I nodded.

"Then you'll get one."

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