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"Who taught you how to cook?"
I looked at her.
"Ever since we came here, you’re the one that cooks the most, and watching you cook now, it’s just clicking that you can cook."
I raised an eyebrow. We’ve been here for practically two months, and it’s just "clicking" that I can cook?"
She must have realized how absurd it had sounded, for she looked sheepish.
"To be fair, I didn’t leave my room initially. I only came downstairs and found my food already packed. I thought your men were the ones always bringing food for us."
"You thought my men had the time to bring us food three to four times daily?" Her assumptions brought a small smile to my face. They were ridiculous.
Even though I was the heir to a large crime syndicate, it didn’t mean I could be willful, as Aryana thought. It took much effort to keep our business running and away from the law of legality. There were many things to do and, thus, no time to run such meaningless errands.
I chuckled.
"Regarding your question, my father taught me how to cook."
I saw Ayana’s face express surprise, and I was again amused.
"Your father taught you?" She asked with a tone of incredulity. She looked interested in the revelation and fixed all her attention on me. I couldn’t deny how much I liked having her eyes on me.
“What's the matter? Not expecting that" " I asked as I drained the water from the pasta. "I can't imagine your father being so domestic," She answered. I supposed it was understandable from her point of view as she had only ever seen and interacted with my father twice. Despite the façade of bravery, she had put on back then, my father's aura was too imposing regardless of his age.
People don't understand that underneath his exterior of ruthlessness and sharp cunningness was a soft heart. He was a nurturing, loving, caring, and warm-hearted person. He was thoughtful and gentle on the one hand and mysterious and a tough nut to crack on the other hand. "My mother died giving birth to me. I know nothing about her and have never met her, so I can't say I have any feelings for her, but I know she cared about me. My father had told me that the pregnancy would take a toll on her, but she had refused to get rid of me. So, she pushed through and gave birth to me, giving her life in exchange" " I started explaining. I was almost done with the sauce. "Despite my mother never being in my life, it wasn't hard to see how much my father loved her.
Despite some of his closecompagnitelling him that I would need a mother figure in my life and that he should move on, my father refused. He's a stubborn man, you see" "I can see where you got the trait from,” Aryana spoke up with a small smirk as I dished our food on two separate plates and set them on the counter where Aryana was sitting. "You think I’m stubborn” I know you’re stubborn,” She retorted with a snort.“ I also know someone who’s also stubborn. Very stubborn” There was a smirk on my face as I leaned close to Aryana.“ Hmm…I wonder who that could be” She feigned innocence as if she truly did not know I was referring to her.
I let it slide and fondly rolled my eyes before sitting beside her.“ My father loved my mother so much that he deemed moving on and being with another woman disrespectful to her. Besides, it just wasn’t possible. He wasn’t interested in being with another woman. Sometimes, I blame myself for her death. She would still be alive today if I hadn’t been born, and he wouldn’t be so lonely” It’s not your fault, and I’m sure your father will agree. I’m sure he would smack you if he heard you say this. Your mother loved you, so she gave her life for you. She already knew the repercussions and didn’t care either way. She would probably tell you she doesn’t regret her decision if she was here,” Aryana stated in a firm tone and held my hand.
Her grip was reassuring, and her words made me tear up. It occasionally plagued my thoughts when I saw my father looking melancholy when staring at pictures of my mother. Sometimes, it made me wonder what my father would have been like if my mother had still been alive, how it would have been to have both my parents at my side.
I cleared my throat to dispel the blockage and continued speaking.“He only ever loved my mother, and his actions proved it. Since her death, he has never touched another woman.”
There was an expression of awe on Ayana’s face. It must have been a shift in perspective for her. The idea that people had of us that were in the mafia was not all wrong but not completely accurate. Yes, we did things that completely went against the law. Yes, we had the power to do much of what we wanted, but we weren’t as heartless as they made us out to be. While our morals didn’t align with the society run by law and order, we did have our morals. However, they differed from family to family.
My father was a very honorable man despite our profession. Everyone knew him to be trustworthy and to never go back on his words. It was one of the reasons why the other families respected the Romano family. On the other hand, some would see it as a sign of weakness, hence the war with the Saconne family.“My father single-handedly raised me. He taught me all that I needed to know. He was strict, and he was caring. He disciplined me as much as he pampered me.”
There wasn’t much to say about my childhood, but Aryana seemed to hang onto every word I said. My heart fluttered with how much she wanted to know about me. A small spark of hope blossomed, and I couldn’t find it within myself to extinguish it. That’s practically it,” I said, twirling pasta around my fork. “I am my father’s heir. He taught me all I needed to know about our business. He made me who I am today, and I would do anything for him.” I said with passion.
When I didn’t hear anything, I saw Aryana staring at me with compassion, her eyes glistening with tears. I became worried.
“Aryana?” I panicked. “What’s wrong?”
She sniffled, and I hurriedly gave her a napkin to dab her eyes with.
“I'm fine. It's just the stupid pregnancy hormones making my emotions unstable." Her voice sounded slightly clogged as she tried to ease my worries with a short laugh.
I wasn't confused; it must have shown on my face because she opened her mouth to address me again.
"Seriously, I'm fine. It was just touching to see how much you care about your father." I frowned.
"I promise. Stop frowning. Why would I lie about that?" She snickered and ran her fingers over my forehead, massaging my frown away.
Seeing that she was telling me the truth, I calmed down. When she pulled her hand away from my face, I instinctively wanted to chase after it but managed to control myself.
"What about you?" I cleared my throat and asked, hoping she hadn't noticed the slight movement.
