Page 26 of Fatal Sloth

The sunlight peeks through the curtains, waking me up. I look over at the alarm to see that it's 7:12 a.m.

Holy crap!

It is rare for me to sleep late. I must have been tired.

Sitting up in the soft covers and looking around at the unfamiliar room are reminders that I’m not in my bed and that yesterday was not a dream. Still, the warm arms hugging me must have been a dream because I’m in bed alone. The other side feels cold, proof nobody has been in bed with me, at least for a while.

Slowly, the events of yesterday start to flood my mind––my new reality. I pull the covers off me, slipping out of Sebastiano Morelli’s bed. The room is quiet and somewhat peaceful, allowing me a moment to collect myself before getting dressed and starting my day as the new don’s new wife.

I quickly brush my teeth and change before heading downstairs- the mansion is so big. I make a mental note to take a tour so I don't get lost.

As I get to the bottom steps, the smell of fresh bacon wafts through the air. Entering the kitchen, I see Marie and Roman busying themselves, plating an impressive spread. Roman definitely has culinary skills, and I'm certain Marie does as well.

Sebastiano sits at the head of the table quietly with a coffee mug in hand, fixated on his phone.

“Good morning,” I say to him, taking a seat to his left and greeting Marie and Roman as they begin placing an array of dishes down in front of us. Sebastiano looks up at me, his face stoic as ever. He doesn't say anything but gives a slight nod. He looks tired. Even so, his presence still grasps my attention.

‘Don't mind him, Mia Cara. He’s not used to being up this early,” Marie offers, earning a warning look from Sebastiano.

"Will you not join us?" I ask the cute couple as they try to scamper off after placing the food out.

"We have much to do. Please enjoy without us," Marie says before leaving the room with Roman in tow.

The whole thing is a far cry from the minimal regimen I'm used to, and the spread before me is beginning to make my mouth water.

The table is brimming with dishes—fluffy pancakes, French toast, scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, and sausage, along with a massive bowl of fruit salad and a variety of pastries. Juice and coffee stand nearby, blending their scents in the air, creating a perfect morning feast. However, I decide against greedily piling my plate and opt for just a spoonful of eggs, earning a disapproving look from Sebastiano.

"Does this not meet your standards, wife?" Sebastiano's tone lacks emotion, slicing through the awkward silence.

"Oh, it's not like that," I murmur, avoiding his gaze. "I-I just..." My words falter.

“You need to eat. A hunger strike won't bode well for either of us.” His words hang in the air before he abruptly orders, "Open."

I look up at him, and my jaw drops at his assumption that I'm going on a hunger strike. Sebastiano takes the opportunity to shove a sausage link into my mouth, then places another on my plate, along with a piece of French toast.

"I’m not going on a hunger strike,” I protest, “and you can't just shove your sausage in my mouth like that."

A sly smirk plays on his lips as his eyes lock with mine. He seems to have something on his mind but opts not to say it. Realizing how my words came out, I stammer, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks and neck.

"So, I can shove my sausage in your mouth, then?" He teases, clearly enjoying my discomfort.

“Wh-what?" I stutter, my cheeks turning pink as I chew the meat he put in my mouth.

Licking his fingers, he has an amused look in his eyes, but it's short-lived as one of the brutes from yesterday walks in, diverting Sebastiano's attention.

The two men start talking, but Sebastiano's comment continues to linger in my mind, the blush still showing on my cheeks as I sit here feeling a little frazzled. However, to appease him, I reluctantly take a bite of the French toast. As the syrupy sweetness coats my tongue, a wave of sugary bliss washes over me, momentarily distracting me from the awkwardness of the situation. It's delicious, perhaps the most fantastic thing I’ve ever eaten.

With a warm smile, the newcomer extends his hand, introducing himself as Enzo. I reach out, mid-bite, to shake his hand when suddenly, the syrupy French toast slides off my fork, landing messily on my shirt and lap. Mortified, I quickly shake his hand before excusing myself to go upstairs and change. Hopefully, my belongings have been moved into Sebastiano’s room by now.

16

Sebastiano

Stepping out of the shower, the warm mist clings to my skin. I open the bathroom door, letting the cold air rush in. As the chill hits me, contrasting with the steam in the bathroom, I catch a glimpse of Mia asleep in bed.

The sight of her peaceful form tugs at something inside me, something I thought was dead a long time ago. The temptation to lay down next to her plays on my mind, but I hesitate. Going to bed so early isn't my style. Instead, I settle into a high-back chair, watching her sleep, feeling like a creeper.

I'm lost in my thoughts when my phone buzzes, and I glance down to see Enzo's name on the screen, calling me. I step out of the room to the hallway before answering, not wanting to wake her.

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