Sixty Seconds in the City

I shrug. “My father taught me. He said it was important. That coffee is the lifeblood of the city.”

Vito nods. “He’s not wrong.”

I look at him. At the way the light plays across his face. Softening the sharp lines. Making him look almost human. “Do you even like coffee?”

He smiles. A real smile. Small. Quick. But real. “I do. But I like watching you make it more.”

My heart skips. Stupid. He’s just saying that. Just trying to get under my skin. Into my head. “Why?”

He shrugs. “You’re good at it. You care about it. It’s sexy.”

I stare at him. Is he serious? Is this a joke? A game? “Sexy? Making coffee is sexy?”

He nods. “When you do it. Yes.”

I look away. Feel my cheeks heat. Stupid. He’s just messing with me. Trying to fluster me. Control me. “You’re full of shit.”

He chuckles. Low. Deep. The sound vibrates in my chest. “Maybe. But it’s still true.”

We lapse into silence. Comfortable. Easy. Like we’ve known each other for years. Not days.

“Why did you agree to this?” I ask after a while. The question has been burning in my mind. “Why marry me? Why not just kill me? Make me disappear?”

Vito looks at me. His eyes are dark. Serious. “I don’t kill women. I don’t kill innocents. Not if I can help it.”

I stare at him. “But you kill men. You kill rivals. You kill anyone who gets in your way.”

He nods. “I do what I have to. To protect my family. My business. My life.”

I look away. Out the window. At the city below. “And I’m part of that now. Your family. Your business. Your life.”

He nods. “You are.”

I close my eyes. Take a deep breath. “I don’t want to be. I don’t want this.”

“I know,” he says. His voice is soft. Gentle. Almost kind. “But you don’t have a choice. Neither of us do.”

I look at him. At the sadness in his eyes. The resignation. The regret. “You’re trapped too. Aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “We’re all trapped. By our families. Our choices. Our lives.”

I nod. I know how he feels. I’ve felt that way my whole life. Trapped by my father’s expectations. My family’s legacy. My own fears.

“What would you do?” I ask. “If you weren’t trapped? If you could do anything?”

He looks at me. His eyes are dark. Intense. “I’d take you away from here. Away from this life. This world.”

I stare at him. Is he serious? Is this a dream? A fantasy? “Where would we go?”

He smiles. “Anywhere. Everywhere. Somewhere with no family. No business. No violence.”

I look away. My heart pounds in my chest. Stupid. He’s just saying that. Just trying to get me to trust him. To want him. To need him. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he says. His voice is firm. Certain. “I’ve never meant anything more.”

I look at him. At the honesty in his eyes. The truth. “Why?”

He reaches out. Takes my hand. His touch is warm. Strong. “Because I want you. Not the Sardella princess. Not the key to my family’s success. Just you. Fiorella.”

I stare at him. At his hand on mine. At the ring on my finger. The shackle. The promise. “I don’t know what to say.”

He squeezes my hand. “Say you want me too. Say you feel this. This thing between us.”

I look at him. At his eyes. His lips. His strong jaw. “I do,” I whisper. “I feel it.”

He smiles. Pulls me towards him. Onto his lap. His arms wrap around me. Hold me close. His cologne surrounds me. Dark. Expensive. Intoxicating.

He leans in. His lips brush mine. Soft. Gentle. A question. Not a demand.

I answer. I kiss him back. Hard. Hungry. Desperate.

He groans. Deepens the kiss. His tongue tangles with mine. His hands roam my body. My back. My hips. My thighs.

I press against him. Feel his hardness. His want. His need.

We kiss for hours. For days. For years. Time stops. The world disappears. All that matters is him. Me. This.

But eventually, we stop. Pull apart. Breathe.

“We can’t,” I say. My voice is rough. Ragged. “We can’t do this.”

He nods. “I know. Not yet. Not now.”

I look at him. At the disappointment in his eyes. The frustration. The resolve. “When?”

He takes a deep breath. Lets it out slow. “After the meeting. After the wedding. After everything is settled.”

I stare at him. “The meeting? What meeting?”

He looks away. Out the window. At the city below. “The family meeting. To discuss the alliance. The marriage. The future.”

My heart drops. “When is it?”

“Soon,” he says. “A week. Maybe less.”

I pull away. Stand up. Put distance between us. “And what happens at this meeting? What happens if they don’t approve? If they don’t agree?”

He stands up too. Walks towards me. “They will. They have to. This is the best thing for both families. For everyone.”

I stare at him. “But what if they don’t? What happens to me? To us?”

He reaches out. Takes my face in his hands. His touch is gentle. Reassuring. “Nothing will happen to you. I won’t let it. I’ll protect you. No matter what.”

I look at him. At the certainty in his eyes. The determination. The strength. “I believe you,” I say. And I do. Stupid. Naive. But I do.

He leans in. Kisses me again. Soft. Sweet. A promise.

“Get some sleep,” he says. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

I nod. Turn to go. Stop at the door. Look back at him. “Vito?”

He looks up. Meets my eyes. “Yeah?”

“I’m scared,” I say. My voice is small. Weak. “Scared of the meeting. Scared of the future. Scared of us.”

He walks over to me. Pulls me into his arms. Holds me close. “I know,” he says. His voice is soft. Soothing. “I’m scared too. But we’ll get through it. Together.”

I nod. Bury my face in his chest. Breathe him in. His strength. His warmth. His safety.

“We will,” I say. And for the first time since this whole mess started, I believe it. We will get through this. Together.

The next morning, I wake up early. Vito is already gone. Probably dealing with family business. Manno business.

I get dressed. Put on my armor. My jeans. My sweater. My boots. My mask.

I find Vito in the kitchen. Drinking coffee. Reading the paper. Like a normal husband. A normal man.

“I’m going to the café,” I say. My voice is strong. Sure. Not a question. A statement.

Vito looks up. Nods. “I’ll come with you.”

I shake my head. “No. I’m going alone.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Is that right?”

I nod. “Yes. I need to do this. I need to be on my own. Just for a little while.”

He looks at me. Searches my face. For what, I don’t know. “Okay,” he says finally. “But Enzo goes with you. He stays outside. You don’t leave the café. Not for any reason.”

I nod. I’ll take it. I’ll take any freedom I can get. Any chance to breathe.

The ride to the café is quiet. Enzo doesn’t talk. I don’t talk. We just sit. Watch the city go by.

At the café, I get to work. Grinding beans. Frothing milk. Pulling shots. The movements are familiar. Comforting. Like coming home.

Enzo sits outside. Watching. Waiting. Protecting.

The morning passes quickly. Busily. I serve customers. Clean tables. Restock supplies. Try to pretend everything is normal. That my life isn’t a mess. That I’m not married to a killer. That I’m not falling for him. Hard. Fast. Stupid.

Around noon, a man walks in. He’s tall. Broad. Dangerous. I’ve never seen him before. But I know his type. I’ve seen it my whole life. Mafia. Made man.

He walks up to the counter. Looks at me. His eyes are cold. Hard. “You Fiorella?” he asks. His voice is rough. Like gravel.

I nod. Wary. “Yes. Can I help you?”

He smiles. It’s not friendly. “You can come with me. My boss wants to talk to you.”

My heart stops. My blood runs cold. “Your boss? Who’s your boss?”

He shrugs. “Don’t worry about that. Just come with me. Don’t make this difficult.”

I shake my head. Step back. Away from him. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m working.”

He sighs. Like I’m a child. A nuisance. “Don’t be stupid, girl. You’re coming with me. One way or another.”

He reaches for me. Across the counter. His hand is big. Rough. Dangerous.

I jump back. Out of reach. “Get out. Now. Before I call the police.”

He laughs. Harsh. Ugly. “The police? You think they’ll help you? You think they care about a Sardella? A Manno?”

I stare at him. How does he know? Who is he? Who sent him?