Mafia Raised

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Chapter17: The tea kettle

Scarlett sat on the couch wearing cotton pajamas and fuzzy socks with a blanket around her shoulders as Gernhard made the tea. As she looked at the home better it was really cozy and happy that could rent the home and not go to hotel. She hated them really, she was always worried she’ll get bed bugs from them, or that they haven’t changed the sheets. She cringed at the thought and snuggled more into the fuzzy blanket. She could hear the mugs clank together as she closed her eyes.

Gernhard set the mugs on the counter as he set the tea bags in the cups. He waited until the kettle started to whistle as he set the sweet treats on a plate. As he took then out of the bag the kettle begun to whistle, turning off the stove top her poured the hot water into the mugs for the tea to steep. He went through the cabinets only to find fresh honey, he shrugged and pulled the tea bags out before setting them on a small saucer dish. He took out two different spoons for their mugs.

This was a special treat, for them it was cozy and perfect as he walked out with the tray of goodies, he saw her on the couch. She looked so comfortable, he set the tray on the coffee table in front of her with a warm smile. She returned the smile and made room for him.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Gernhard asked as he handed her the cup of tea with a spoon full of honey in it.

“About what?” she looked at him as she softly blew the steam off before taking a sip she was so calm about this.

“Okay for starters and the fact that a team of French mobsters attack us while we trying to fuck and your grandfather is dying while we’re just touristing.”

“Gernhard that isn’t even a word, and I know. I’m just not trying to think about it while we are here,” she told him with a sigh.

It mad him angry that she would say such a thing, isn’t she Italian and aren’t family important to them. It was mostly the council that made them wed and maybe it was because of that she was still figuring how she could open up to him.

“Why don’t you care?” he stood up from the couch looking down at her.

“Just because we are married does not mean that I have to justify my emotions to you doesn’t concern you!” she poked his chest. He looked at her and looked away unable to believe what she said.

“Tsk so we’re starting this shit again?” he said as he looked down at her. She balled her fists her breathing staggered sounding as if she is fighting the urge to punch him. She raised a fist about to punch him but she dropped it and turned before she walked to the bedroom slamming the door behind her.

He seriously thought she was going to punch him but something was eating at her and he needed to know why she was closing down on him. He thought they were finally on good terms with all they sex they had. Figuring that he fucked up he remembered what her father said about watching her emotions and don’t bring up the mention of death. But he would still like to know why she wouldn’t talk about the French mob sending men out to get them. Even when they had no ties to connect them to the other mafia.

Scarlett had locked the door to the bedroom, if he wanted to sleep he can sleep on the couch, he didn’t know how things were between her and her grandfather. Things were pretty strained since he was against her becoming a made women and taking over the business. She was almost there before she even gotten married all thanks to the fucking council. But she didn’t know the real deal with the French mob. It was kind of unsettling the more she thought of it as she laid on her side.

As she closed her eyes the bathroom door slammed opened and the man she beaten to near death was standing in the doorway with a blood thirsty grin. Oh God she forgot all about him! She let out a quick panic shriek as he rushed to her. She jumped off the bed and made a dash to the door.

“Oh no you don’t chienne," he lunged for him and ended jumping on the bed. He stood and licked his lips grinning, the look in his eyes was sick and twisted those green eyes looked as though they could catch on fire.

"Gernhard!" she cried out as she grabbed her gun, but it wasn't there. Instead it was in the bastard's hand aiming at her.

Fear wrapped it's claws into her chest as it pulled out her soul all the blood that ran in her veins ran cold as though there was ice shards. He grinned and pulled the trigger and shot her in the leg, she screamed in pain it was hot and burn. Gernhard busted through the door, she was on the floor leaning against the wall blood pooling near the wound.

"Well it's about fucking time you tool!" she yelled at him clearly pissed, if she had a gun she would shoot the both of these fuckers.

"You shot my wife!" he yelled running at the fucker that stood still on their bed.

Just when the French bitch was going to fire the gun jammed on him, what fucking luck. Gernhard tackled him off the bed and punched him to the hard wood floor as he punched him over and over again. He beat him so badly his face caved in, Gernhard was a mountain of man and it was easy for him to it too. So far she might have lost a pint of blood as she watched him beat the hell out of him.

As he stood up he walked over to her and picked her up carrying her out of the house to the car. As he set her inside she saw his eyes and saw they were ice cold now. Sighing she looked away and saw that he had put his defenses back up while she had done the same to him. They should probably talk about this. She moved the leg that was shot and hissed in pain.

"Fuckin' hell," she said through clenched teeth.

"Serves you right."

"Fuck you..." she said before she let out a scream as she saw a huge SUV speed towards them. It rammed them into the foundation.

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