Wild One

Forty-Eight

Niccolo

Is she possessed? What happened to that lovely girl I knew?

I sit and eat under threat.

“So, Niccoló,” Her father grits out. “What do you do for a living?”

Is he seriously asking me that? He just wants me to start something so I'll be on her bad side and not him.

“I'm a businessman,” I force a polite smile on my face.

“Okay, lets just steer clead of all career talk. You're a policeman, you're a...mob boss, you hate others guts, I just better not see it.”

I grimance lovingly in her direction, the same expression on his face.

Looks like we're both in the same boat—not being able to say no to her.

“How's the food?” She prompts.

I stumble over my words to answer her. “Delicious. Excellent.”

“Absolutely perfect,” Her father compliments.

“You know pigs eat anything, including bone. The one thing I admire about them.”

Manon shoots me a warning glare, making me shrug.

“Why you—”

Manon glares at him, making him shrink. I smirk at him.

“Mama, how have you been?”

Her mother smiles. She seems to be sweet but a bit ditzy. I don't think she notices the subtle power struggle here.

“Fine dear. So Niccoló, where did you meet our daughter?”

“I have a better question. How are you gonna protect my daughter, criminal?"

“Daddy!" she reprimands him. He softens instantly. “I'm just concerned, little one."

She sighs, closing her eyes with a manic smile. “Daddy pass me the salt please.”

I reach for it when he does.

She glares a hole into the side of my face.

I shrug mischievously. I couldn't let that go.

“You wretched criminal.”

“Oh no,” I moan sarcastically, “He described my line of work. Someone stop him!”

“I'll kill you! You leave my daughter alone!”

“I can't. Matter of fact, I might just marry her. How does that sound, Dad?”

“Don't you call me that—!”

“What's wrong Dad? Not feeling the love?”

Two gun shots pierce through the air, making us all duck and at the psychopath who did it.

She huffs crazily. “All I wanted was one nice grown up dinner with my boyfriend and my Parents. But what do I get? I get sky underhanded comments.”

“And I never call you Daddy,” She shoots at me.

I shrug. Never say never.

“This is ridiculous. Until you two can talk civilly for a few hours, I'm not talking to you,” She says to her father.

I smirk. Until she looks at me. “And I'm not talking to you, either.”

Talk translates to a little more doesn't it? No kisses? I can see it in her eyes. I get no kisses, no nothing.

Was it worth it?

Sorta, gotta admit.

“But honey,”

“Baby—”

“I'm not talking to you!"

She leaves the room in huff. With all of our guns. Oh dear. I bought the grenade today.