Chapter 249
His Promise: The Mafia’s Babies
âWhat? No!â
Gabriel was one of the many exes who my dad had scared away. He wasnât that âfriendly, and neither was my brother. If it were up to them, I would remain single until the very day I died.
According to them, no one was good enough for me. âHow could we even reunite when you scared him off.â
âOh,â My dad spoke, flustered. âYouâre right. I did scare him off.ââ
He took a sip from his tea and went into deep thoughts. âWhat could you possibly be hiding from me?â He mumbled.
Nothing, dad, the only thing Iâm hiding from you is that Iâve emailed one of the people you despise the most-a felon.
âI was buying your birthday gift. It wasnât meant for your eyes.â I teased him. Even though he was liculous, I couldnât help but feel bad and didnât want him to crack his brains over nothing. âBirthday He smiled, relieved. âI can live with that.â
ill you be home for dinner tonight?â
No, I told him. âIâm working a late shift, so donât wait up for me.â
I felt terrible for abandoning him, but he was breathing in my neck, and it was slowly getting on my nerves. I loved my dad and brother, but their overprotective behavior on top of their occupation didnât exactly help me.
The fact that my dad and my brother were DEA agents had always embarrassed me. Whenever I told anyone that my family worked for the government, they didnât hesitate and took their distance from me, âDo you want me to leave you dinner?â My dad asked in a sad tone. I hated whenever he made me feel bad. âIâm good, thank you,â I turned him down. âI think Iâll be leaving early today-â
âBecause youâre sick of me?â My dad joked. The unfortunate thing which he hadnât realized was that it was the reality. I needed my space, and I couldnât be stuck in a house with him any longer. âYou got me,â I smiled. âIâm sick of you.â
Just by looking at his face, I could tell my dad probably thought I was playing along with his joke, and I was not about to ruin his fun. He gave me a wink and finished his tea in one go.
âIn that case, please have a nice day at work.â
âThat was the last table.â I smiled at my boss, Rona. She looked over the counter and scanned the tables with her eyes. âYouâre finished. You can go home.â
âThank you!â I nodded gratefully. I was exhausted and couldnât keep up with the number of people who I had served for the day. We worked with eight other people, but I was the manager of this place which meant I carried the same responsibilities as Rona.
âIâll be stuck here for a while,â Rona spoke. She wasnât that much older than I was, and we got along well. If it werenât for her, I wouldnât have the opportunity to show off my skills.
It had only been around three months since I had started my job, but I enjoyed it here. It was better than sitting behind a desk all day, that was for sure. I was mainly here for my skills as a mixologist. I had always created my own recipes, and they always seemed to perform well.
âDo you really want me to go?â I spoke awkwardly. I hated the fact that I was such a good person, and I did not have it in me to leave her alone.
âJust go,â Rona spoke once again. âI only have to count the money, donât waste your time and enjoy your night.â
I ignored her words and sat down. âYou know you want me to keep you company!â I smirked. Rona let out a laugh. âOkay, got me.â
âYou couldâve just asked so.â
âWhatâs the point of asking if I knew you were going to offer?â Rona commented. âDonât worry. Iâll make it quick.â
âDonât bother.â I calmed her down. I was not in the mood to see my dad at the kitchen table while he waited for my return. I didnât mind staying away for a little longer. âTake your time, Rona.â
âYouâre such a good person,â Rona praised me. I knew I was, but it felt good to hear it from someone else. âMaybe I can show you some of my new recipes after weâre finished.â I smiled.
âMaybe you can,â Rona spoke.
âSo, any new stories to share?â She asked. âWhat did you do today?â
âOh, I wrote a prisoner!â I shared with her. She was an excellent person to talk to and always listened to whatever I had to say. Rona stopped what she was doing and looked at me with big eyes.
âA prisoner?â
âYes, remember that bet I told you about?â I freshened up her memories. âYes.â Rona nodded. âYou mean your friend who called you boring and dared you to do something which your dad would never allow?â
âYes, that one!â
âSo you decided to write a prisoner?â Rona laughed out loud. âYou never fail to amuse me.â
âBut I won the bet.â I shrugged at the end of the day. It was all that truly mattered. I always had the urge to show everyone that I made my own rules, regardless of my dad and brother, Alex.
âHow does something like that works?â Rona wondered. It was something I also didnât know until Victoria showed me how. âYou create a profile, take a look at the message board and look for someone to write,â I explained. âI chose to send an email, but you can also send a letter.â
âCrazy,â Rona sighed. âYes, apparently, they print out the email and give it to the prisoners.â
âSounds serious.â
âIt does.â
âI chose one of the worst guys. He had a list full of crimes and was all under the tattoos-my dad wouldâve dropped dead if he saw him.â I laughed. âHeâs in there for murder, drug trafficking, and god knows what else.â
âOh, no,â Rona spoke with a slight pout on her lips. âThis guy probably knows what you look like-so maybe you shouldâve gone for someone a little lessâ¦criminal-ish?â
I felt flattered by Ronaâs concerns, but that wasnât necessary at all. âThis guy has a life sentence. He wonât be coming out anytime soon.â
âWow, it only gets worse.â
1 laughed at Ronaâs over-the-top reaction. I wouldnât be that stupid to email someone who was not on life without parole. âIt isnât as if we are going to become besties or anything. It was just a bet.â
âWho knows.â Rona shrugged. âYou have a pretty face. I donât think any guy would swipe you to the left.â
âSwipe me to the left? Itâs not a dating app.â I clarified. Why would anyone willingly want to end up with someone who would not be seeing any daylight anytime soon?
âThank god, imagine.â Rona chuckled. âBut still, imagine if he actually writes you back.â
âNah, heâs not going to write me back.â I spoke as I thought about the âkindergartenâ email and the childish riddle. Inmate Marvin whatever his name was, did not seem like the guy who would waste his time solving a riddle.
âWhy not?â Rona continued. Unfortunately, my point did not come across. I loved living in reality, and I wasnât ready to move out of it?
âWhy would he write me back?â