Page 6 of The Mafia's Seamstress

“So how can I help you,” I said, redirecting the conversation. He leaned away and I could finally breathe.

“I’m here to pick up a suit,” he said. I nodded, pulling out a notebook that held all of the orders. “It’ll be under LB,” he said. I nodded, finding his name and order number. I excused myself to the back to find his suit. When I returned he was eyeing the window outside.

“Mr. LB here is your suit,” I said, handing it over. His chuckle was rough and it made my stomach tightened.

“LB are initials,” he said, as he took the suit from me. That dark feeling was back and crawling higher. I marked his order as picked up when I felt his breath on my ear. “It stands for Luca Benanti,” he whispered. Tendrils of shadows wrapped around my chest, making it harder to breathe. You have to be mother fucking kidding me.

"B-benanti?" I stuttered. He nodded. Double fuck. I clenched my jaw, trying to remain calm. I could not freak out on him. I could not let him see me lose my shit. I needed to be the picture of cool and collected. I had refused to let Mr. Costa see me break apart and Mr. Benanti wouldn’t either.

My eyes skated to him and he smiled warmly. I recognized his last name. If I remembered the rumors right Costa and Benanti were family or at least related somehow.

"He talks about you a lot," Mr. Benanti said, pulling away. I placed the notebook under the register to hide my fidgeting hands.

"Oh god. I hope it's not embarrassing," I said, squeezing my fingers. Why the fuck was my avô talking to the damn mafia about me?

"Oh no, nothing of the sort. He just mentions how proud he is of you," he said. He pushed a hair behind my ear like Mr. Costa did but with Mr. Benanti, it was a different thrill that went through me. I stared at him in surprise. This man belonged to a dangerous family and yet around him I felt like I was bathing in sunlight.

Oh dear god, was it going to be like those books I read where years ago my avô promised me in marriage to one of them? I wasn’t ready for marriage. I hadn’t even been on a date in two years.

“Well I’m glad and thank you so much for doing business with us,” I said, hoping he would take the hint to leave.

“It’s always a pleasure doing business with Silva’s Seamstress Shop,” he said.

Always. Just how deep was my avô’s relationship with the mafia?

The door dinged and I turned to greet the customer, grateful to get away from Mr. Benanti. But that greeting soured quickly.

"You're early," I said, glaring at Mr. Costa. I glanced at my watch. He was two hours early actually. Maybe with him already here I could close on time. He grunted, making his way over.

"I had some unexpected cancellations," Mr. Costa said. He was focused on Mr. Benanti who hadn't paid him any attention since he walked in.

"Well I'm with a customer. You can wait in the corner," I said, waving him towards a seat. Mr. Costa’s jaw locked in place and he raised an eyebrow. There was a soft chuckle from the blue-eyed beauty in front of me.

"I will not sit in the corner like a child," Mr. Costa said. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

"This attitude you walked in with resembles that of one," I said. Mr. Costa glared at me.

“Really? Because I walked in and you immediately glared at me,” he said. Mr. Benanti looked between us.

“You walked into this shop and glared at my customer first,” I said. Which was true. The second he stepped through this door and looked at Mr. Benanti his demeanor shifted. My statement must have sparked something because Mr. Costa’s fists clenched.

"I was just leaving, cousin," Mr. Benanti said casually. Before turning away he looked at me and said softly, "I'll be seeing you around."

“Thank you for trusting us with your order Luca,” I said, sweetly. Mr. Benanti’s smile widened and he gave me a quick wink. He turned to walk away, his eyes meeting Mr. Costa’s. For a moment they stared at each other until he finally left.

“What a charming smile you gave him,” Mr. Costa said through gritted teeth. I went to grab the fabric to cut his suit.

"He’s a paying customer," I said. He grunted again. I spread the fabric across my work table and reached for my scissors.

“Even if he’s in the mafia?” he asked. I clutched the scissors in my hands and looked into Mr. Costa’s eyes. A quick thought raced through me as I held onto the scissors. He peered at my hand. The corner of his lips twitched as he fought back what I assumed was a smirk.

“Well you’re still here aren’t you?” I fired back. There was a spark in his gaze. I needed to stop being so damn interesting. "Listen, I've been busy so I'll be cutting your suit now. You're going to have to wait before I get you to try it on," I said. He nodded in understanding. I sighed. If he could stay silent we would have no problems.

He took a seat by the shoes and pulled out his phone. I smiled to myself. He ended up in the corner just like I told him.

I concentrated on measuring the fabric and cutting out the pattern pieces. I decided to go with a black tweed fabric. It felt right given the current weather. Most people went with velvet or standard cotton.

But this suit was for a charity ball. One of the most famous ones in our city. The event was going to be crawling with the rich of the rich. A black tweed suit would make him seem sophisticated and give him the old money look that he oozed.

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