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Bruno had finally begun to make a name for himself in Passione, proving his tenacity after many years of loyal service. What had begun as a desperate attempt to keep his father safe had become something more, as Bruno honestly started to believe that Passione was the face of justice that Naples so desperately needed. Even after his father died he still threw himself at his work with the same dedication he had shown since the beginning.
Polpo had taken a liking to the young man, and he often discussed the possibility of giving Bruno his own territory and the authority to build a team of his own. Until Bruno was deemed ready to take on the new responsibility Polpo had him training under his more experienced subordinates who had much more maneuverability than he had only working out of his prison cell.
Bruno was shadowing one such man today, along with a couple of his team members, to do a sweep of his home turf and collect protection money from local businesses. While many of the business owners clearly paid their protection out of fear, whether from other gangs or Passione itself, there were many who showed Bruno’s mentor respect. He did deliver on what he promised; the community was safe and flourishing.
“Ay, boss, are we still going to stop by the bakery while the new guy’s with us?” one of the man’s underlings asked, shooting a hesitant glance in Bruno’s direction.
The small gang’s leader had just taken out his lighter and once his cigar was lit he brought it to his lips and held it there thoughtfully. After a moment of consideration he blew a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth.
“Depends. What are you going to tell Polpo if we go off script, kid?” he said with a smirk. Bruno’s eyes narrowed at the patronizing nickname. He was younger and less experienced than his colleagues, but he was an adult now. He could stand his ground now and he wouldn’t be pushed around by others, even if they outranked him.
“I am required to brief Polpo on every aspect of today’s training in my report, sir,” Bruno replied firmly. The two underlings looked at each other and then at their leader, as if asking him ‘what now,’ but the leader had pinched his cigar between his fingers so he could let out a proper laugh.
“There’s that loyalty I’ve heard so much about,” he said, clapping a hand down on Bruno’s back. “Well, good thing we’ve got nothing to hide, huh? You can go ahead and tell Polpo whatever you want, but we’re going to attend to some personal matters.” He took another long drag of his cigar before slowly blowing out more smoke. “You’re welcome to accompany us.”
After a moment of consideration the other two men had big grins plastered on their faces.
“Yeah,” one of the two said with a chuckle, elbowing Bruno. “You’re a cool kid, but you kind of come across as a real hardass. If you’re really hoping to be a leader like Mackie over here then you gotta make yourself approachable.”
“Should I write that tip down?” Bruno said with a playful smirk. The second man of the duo slung his arm over Bruno, knocking him off balance a bit.
“See, I knew you were a comedian, kid. Come on, we’re done doin’ the rounds and it’ll do you some good to unwind. There’s this cute little bakery we go to a few blocks down. Lady who runs it is real nice. Easy on the eyes too.”
Bruno merely gave an indifferent nod to show he’d acknowledged them, and he followed after their leader as they walked down a street that held much smaller and less lucrative establishments. While maintaining some connection with these places was important for his mentor, most of these places probably couldn’t afford to pay protection fees. They weren’t high profile targets anyway as long as his mentor kept other gangs out.
Bruno admired the way Mack protected his community, and as far as mafia extortion went he felt the man was firm but fair. He was no saint, but Bruno saw the beginnings of a model that he’d like to employ when he got his own territory. He wanted that same respect and influence over the larger community when it was his time to lead.
However, as they kept walking, it slowly dawned on Bruno that they were past the edge of Passione’s territory. It was close to the border, but it was definitely not an area under his mentor’s control. Off the top of his head he couldn’t remember which rival gang controlled the area. He bit his tongue though. They weren’t coming here to cause trouble, right? Just take it easy after a long day. It would be fine.
Eventually the four of them arrived at a modest bakery, but for what it lacked in size and amenities it made up for in its quality of product. Even before opening the door the heavenly smell of bread and pastries was present in the air, and once inside it was so palpable it was as if one was already eating the bread by smell and sight alone. Everything looked beautiful, skillfully handcrafted with baskets filled with warm brown loaves and pastries meticulously decorated with fruit and sugar.
Upon hearing the bell on the door chime a voice called from the back, “I’ll be with you shortly!” It was a cheery voice with a sweet lilt to it. When the owner of the voice finally appeared behind the counter Bruno’s heart skipped a beat.
You were a humble baker who always dreamed of opening up your own bakery ever since you were small. Over the years you worked hard to perfect your craft and when through your dedication you finally opened up your own shop you were very happy and proud. While the shop didn’t look like much eventually your talent started to draw attention by word of mouth, and you and your bakery were a beloved part of the community.
You found out your bakery was in mafia territory a little while after opening, but you were hardly a priority with as little as you made and it seemed for now you were overlooked. There were a few men from the more infamous Passione who stopped by occasionally, but they were polite and didn’t cause trouble. A part of you was nervous initially that their presence would draw the unwanted attention from the gang that actually owned the turf, but they kept a low profile. They were also some of your best customers.
Today there was a new man with the three you were used to seeing. He was younger than the others, around your age, with a neat bob cut and a flattering white suit. He was rather handsome, and you caught yourself staring at him for a moment while he stared back. Snapping out of it, you gave a big smile to the four of them as you dusted some flour off your apron.
“Oh, signore, it’s so nice to see you!” you called out. “I was hoping you’d come by today, I made some extra tiramisu this morning.”
“You’re too sweet, doll,” Mack said with a chuckle. “I ‘preciate it.”
“What about me?” one of your other two regulars asked.
“Yeah, what about us?” the second one asked, elbowing the other.
You just smiled and spun around, reaching behind the counter and pulling out a small tray of apple fritters which you held out to the two of them. They eagerly grabbed one each and scarfed them down.
“Jesus, guys, you could wait until we were sitting down?” Mack said with a huff. You merely laughed and turned to look at the newcomer.
“Is there anything I can get for you, Signor…?”
“Buccellati. Bruno Buccellati,” he said, giving you a warm smile. “I might need a moment to look over your display case.”
You gave him a warm smile of your own and introduced yourself as well. You then gave him an appraising look and held your index finger to your jaw and tilted your head. Bruno raised his eyebrow at your gesture before you snapped your fingers with a satisfied look on your face.
“Ah, that’s why your name sounded familiar,” you said before bending down and disappearing behind the counter to dig in your lower display case. You stood back up holding a pair of tongs in one hand and a tart sitting on a bakery tissue. “I only make buccellati during the holiday season, although that’s not what we called them where I’m from. Even if I don’t have any for you this time of year I’ve still got this.”
“How much is it?” Bruno asked with a polite smile.
“Oh, don’t worry about it! First one’s on the house, Signor Buccellati. Heaven knows Mack and the boys get more than their fair share of freebies.”
He delicately took it from your hands, and your fingers brushed against his for just a moment. Now that it was closer to his face he looked it over.
“It’s a tart with honeyed figs and goat cheese,” you said, but then your smile faltered. “Maybe it’s weird of me to assume you like figs just because of your name? If you don’t like it-”
But he took a bite before you could finish, and if his expression was anything to go by he had enjoyed it. “It’s very good. Quite incredible, really. Thank you.” His smile was more than polite now, very bright and genuine, and the sight of it had your cheeks feeling a bit warm.
You beamed at him and curled a strand of hair around your finger while you waved bashfully at him with your other hand. “Oh, it’s no problem at all!”
You went about your usual business preparing ingredients for tomorrow morning, finishing up decorations on things you still needed to put out, and refilling whatever was running low in the case. Bruno and your regulars were seated at one of the small tables outside your bakery enjoying some coffee you brewed for them and additional baked goods they had purchased.
As much as you appreciated their business, you knew you had to maintain a professional distance from anyone involved in the criminal underground of Naples. You had suspected that Mack’s two lackeys had a more than friendly interest in you, but he kept them in line. You couldn’t afford to date a mafioso.
So why did your gaze linger so much on Bruno? You absentmindedly stared at him through the window of your storefront, barely registering a timer going off behind you. When he turned to catch you staring you immediately snapped back to reality and went to check on your work.
Bruno grew to really like working under Mack. Even if he patronized Bruno a bit he was the sort of idealized mobster that Bruno envisioned when he pictured the true form of justice that Passione delivered. He was kind hearted and looked after his subordinates and weaker members of the community. Bruno often had his doubts about Passione, but it was men like Mack that eased those doubts and made him proud to serve the organization.
He hadn’t mentioned the trips to the bakery in enemy territory to Polpo after all. There really was no reason to. Polpo could probably care less about what Bruno’s mentor did during his free time.
Bruno started to really look forward to his visits to the bakery. Not for any particular reason. It was nice for him to unwind a bit and enjoy the company of others. He had been clawing his way up in the gang for so long that it was hard to form long lasting relationships when all of his energy was focused on his job performance. Mack had ambition, but he also had a personability about him that Bruno found himself wanting to emulate. Spending time with him and his gang was nice.
Which didn’t necessarily explain why he started going to the bakery on his own. It had just become a habit at that point, he supposed. A nice cup of coffee to start his mornings, a pastry to enjoy in the afternoon, or a loaf of bread to take home to use to make dinner. He found himself making excuses to visit more often than was probably reasonable.
“Oh, Bruno! Back so soon? Weren’t you just here yesterday?” your voice called out as you noticed your newest regular entering your shop. It hadn’t taken too long for you to start dropping the formalities and start addressing him by his first name, especially since he had started coming all by himself. He was always polite and somewhat formal, although he did have a quirky sense of humor that you got to see come out on occasion.
Bruno gave you a warm smile. “I realized I ran out of bread last night, I thought I’d make a quick stop to pick up some more.” There were markets that weren’t so out of the way that would have made more sense to go to, but why not make the extra effort for better quality if he had the time?
“Hm… I’m starting to think that you come by so often just to see me,” you said with a playful expression, only to regret it immediately. “I’m teasing of course,” you said, twirling your hair around your finger and looking away with a sheepish smile.
He just gave a gentle chuckle at that, although a part of him was caught a little off guard by the assertion. Was that how he came across? And even more importantly, was that actually what was motivating him? But the thought soon drifted to the background as you pulled out a tray from the back. You held it towards him, offering him one of the cookies organized neatly upon it.
“I wonder how you’re able to maintain a business model that has you giving away so much of your stock for free,” he said with a soft smirk before taking one of them off the tray.
“Oh shush, I only do it for my favorite customers,” you said with a roll of your eyes, and before he could tease you for saying that as well you continued. “This is a new recipe for a standard chocolate chip cookie though, and I need feedback.”
You watched his face as he took a bite and gave a thoughtful expression as he chewed. You were drumming your fingers on the counter as you waited for him to appraise it.
“It’s too firm, isn’t it? It’s too firm,” you began before he even had the chance to finish, but he held up a finger to silence you as he waited until he had swallowed before talking.
“The texture is excellent, it’s the chocolate you used that might need to change. I always like when you use the darker chocolate chips,” he said, grabbing a napkin off from the dispenser on the counter to place the rest of the cookie on top of it as he set it down to the side.
“I went too bitter on the last batch,” you said with a big frown. “I might have overcompensated on this one. Alright… I’ll dial it back to semisweet next time.” Your frown was soon replaced with a big smile as you set the tray back down on the prep table behind you. “Anyway, what bread can I get for you Bruno?”
He approached your bread rack and gave it a once over. “I wanted something on the sweeter side to pair with a salad I’m planning.”
“Ooooh,” you said, suddenly buzzing with excitement as you walked over to the back of the display. “I can finally try to push my cranberry walnut sourdough on you!” You gestured to some nice sourdough loaves with a light brown exterior and the hint of dark red cranberries and brown nuts. The interior was light and leaned ever so slightly towards a raisiny purple as you demonstrated by showing off some slices you had cut for yourself to munch on earlier.
“I trust your recommendation,” he said with a chuckle at how happy you looked to show off the bread.
“Great! Do you want me to slice it for you? You know how much I love to use the bread slicer,” you said, gently patting the trusty machine with vertical blades across it that stood on your side.
“I think I’ll pass this time,” he said, an amused apologetic tone to his voice when you deflated and patted your bread slicer again as if to soothe it.
You chit-chatted a bit more while he finished his cookie and even a bit more after that, although Bruno had run out of excuses to still be there when he had said it would be a quick stop. Eventually he parted ways with you and you gave a wistful sigh as you watched him walk out of sight down the road, only to go back to cleaning surfaces and prepping dough.
Bruno had almost taken it for granted how visiting the bakery had become such a normal part of his routine. Even after moving on from Mack’s tutelage he still set aside time to stop by. Sometimes he’d run into Mack and the boys there, other times he was there alone.
Seeing your sweet smile as you welcomed him in had become so normal to him that the first time it was absent had him flinching when he saw a sad, almost fearful expression on your face instead.
It was such a strange expression on you that it had completely distracted him from the changes in the bakery’s layout. There were less seats and less displays, and one of your cases was empty with the sheet of glass protecting it absent. Most strikingly of all, there was a dent that threatened to become a nasty hole on the wall bordering the back of the shop, as if something heavy had smashed into it.
You didn’t greet him as he approached the counter. You hesitantly stepped forward out of obligation to serve a customer but avoided his eyes.
He called your name gently to get your attention and you raised your eyes for a moment before dropping your gaze again. He frowned, deep concern in his eyes. “Did something happen?”
“Everything is fine, signore.” It had been a while since you had called him that instead of just Bruno. His eyes narrowed as his brows furrowed. “What can I get for you?”
“Are you sure-”
“Signore…” you began, biting your lip, before finally looking up to meet his gaze. “Signor… Buccellati. When was the last time you spoke with your friend?”
Bruno was unsure who you were referring to at first, but it wasn’t like there were a whole lot of mutual acquaintances between the two of you. “Mack? I haven’t spoken with him since the last time I saw him here. A week ago, I believe?”
You took a deep breath and you were quiet for a while. Bruno wasn’t sure if he should speak again, but eventually you steeled yourself. “Bruno,” you said very quietly, voice laced with both fondness and regret. “I don’t think you should come by anymore.”
He stared at you wide eyed, a bit taken aback. “Wh- why do you…”
“Please Bruno,” you said, looking like you might be on the verge of tears. “I… I knew it was a bad idea… from the start, I knew, but… if you and him keep coming by it will get even worse. Mack has already agreed to stay away… I was hoping he would have already spoken to you, so that I-” You gave a sharp inhale. He could see how hard asking whatever you were trying to ask was for you. “I didn’t want to be the one to ask you to leave me alone, but I’m afraid of what they’ll do if they see any of you here again.”
With as vague as you were being, it was hard to make sense of what exactly the situation was, but Bruno could read between the lines. Perhaps Mack had finally gotten in an altercation with the gang that owned this territory. Things were probably broken, if the absence of the usual furnishings was any indication. Threats were probably made.
“If… if you’re in trouble, me and Mack...” he began.
But you lost your patience. You couldn’t bear to continue this encounter.
“Because of you and Mack I’ve been asked to pay protection money that I can’t afford! I’ve had my business,” you said, slamming your palm down on the counter, “and my life threatened as some sort of… some sort of… payback to Passione for you being out here! Please, Bruno!”
You started sobbing. Bruno’s distraught face at watching you fall apart eventually turned into a controlled neutral expression betraying nothing as you finally opened your eyes long enough to look back at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said, plainly. He wanted to assure you that he wouldn’t be back, but how could he say that knowing what position you were in because of Passione? It might make things worse to try to get involved further, but…
With a final nod he said no more before leaving. You stood there silently before you were finally able to shake yourself out of your stupor.
“Sounds like you had a terrible lapse in judgment, Bruno,” a deep voice snickered from behind a plane of glass. Polpo swished the wine in his glass around before taking a sip.
“I know it was risky to go into a rival’s territory, but this civilian doesn’t deserve to pay the price for it,” Bruno said sternly, his back straight and shoulders back as he watched Polpo intently.
“Not your trips to the bakery, oh no,” Polpo said with an amused laugh. “With Passione’s dominance I couldn’t care less if you frolicked down a lesser gang’s territory in broad daylight.”
“What lapse in judgement are you referring to, then?” Bruno asked, his lips pressed together in a thin line. Polpo finally glanced at Bruno out of the corner of his eye and flashed him an unkind smirk, raising one of his eyebrows.
“You’ve grown attached to this civilian, haven’t you?”
Bruno’s fists clenched as much as he tried to hide the action, and Polpo noticed. Bruno’s voice came out unwavering and even, however. “Capo, I think seizing that territory has strategic benefits beyond how it benefits this one civilian. I do also believe my purpose here in Passione is to protect the weak of Naples, which goes beyond personal feelings. It is the code of honor I live by as I administer Passione’s justice.”
Polpo almost looked a little sad as he held back a mean laugh. He admired Bruno’s hard work, but although he had taken a liking to the young man he always underestimated just how deep his naivety ran. Bruno’s idealism was not suited for this life.
“Your request is denied,” Polpo said matter of factly. “Maybe when you have your own team I’ll let you have a go at claiming that territory for yourself, how does that sound?” Polpo had a smug smile. That was the best offer Bruno would get. “For now, I don’t want you causing any more problems over there.”
Bruno had to bite his tongue to keep from talking back. He knew Polpo’s decisions were absolute.
“Kid, look, I don’t know what to tell ya,” Mack said, before letting out a long exhale of smoke. “It’s not fair, but it is what it is.”
Bruno’s eyes narrowed, and he firmly slammed his palm down on the table that Mack was currently seated at. “But it’s our fault, we owe it to her.”
A look flashed across Mack’s face, something akin to pity, before it was replaced with a serious and stern expression. “She’s a nice lady, she made some of the best tiramisu I’ve ever had, but I’m not interested in a turf war right now. It’s best for everyone involved if we just forget about it.”
Bruno suddenly lunged forward to grab Mack by his collar, pulling him out of his chair and causing the rest of the patrons at the restaurant's outdoor patio to turn and look at the scene. Mack’s cigar fell out of his mouth at the sudden jerk.
“She was your friend,” Bruno hissed. “You’re going to turn your back on her?”
Mack was more dumbfounded than upset as he grimaced. “Knock it off, kid!” he spat, shoving Bruno off him. “Friend? I went to her bakery in my spare time to unwind. I don’t make friends with civilians.” He slumped back down in his chair and leaned over his steepled fingers, shooting Bruno a dirty look. “And if you thought otherwise, well, that’s on you. Don’t forget what we are, Buccellati.”
He turned away from Bruno to pull out a new cigar, ignoring the man’s presence completely. They were done here.
He could understand Polpo, but he thought Mack would help. Mack cared about the people in his community. Mack was like Bruno, he believed in the justice and security that Passione provided the people of Naples. He wouldn’t let the innocent suffer. He would protect his friend, the bakery girl, without a second thought.
Bruno had been wrong about Mack.
Had he been wrong about Passione as well?
He pushed the thought out of his mind, burying it under his frustration, as he stomped away from the restaurant, leaving Mack alone to shake his head sadly in secondhand embarrassment.
“I’ve already given you all the profits I made this week… any more and I won’t be able to buy groceries or pay the bills,” you asserted, trying your best to keep your voice from faltering.
“What do ya need ta buy food for?” an annoyingly smug voice responded, flashing you a dangerous smirk. “You make plenty ‘a your own, dont’cha?”
You had to refrain from explaining that you couldn’t sustain eating your store’s product; he knew that already. He knew what he was asking was unreasonable.
“Y’know, our feelings are still awfully hurt,” the man continued. “You were being heckled by those Passione goons for months and it never occured to ya to come seek us out for help? We would’a gotten rid ‘a them way sooner if we had known.”
“If you could afford to give away so many free baked goods to those saps, then you really can’t be doin’ all that bad moneywise, right?” a deeper voice called from behind the man currently threatening you. This guy was the muscle.
“That’s a real good point,” said the first man, the leader of the three person team that was currently having a ‘friendly conversation’ with you, as he turned to look back at his subordinate. “Still, I feel real bad that they were able to push her around like that.”
The third man, the quietest of the three, just gave a silent scoff.
“That’s what the protection money is for, darlin’,” the leader said as he turned back towards you. “Making sure those Passione guys don’t bother you no more.”
“Every pastry you gave away for free was a’nother bit of revenue that could’a gone back into the community. Wouldn’t be a problem if you had come to us sooner, but now we just gotta make sure you’re running your business up to code,” the muscle said with a mean snort. You were tired of this little roleplay they were doing, feigning concern and benevolence to mock you.
“If you’re going to threaten me, at least don’t make fun of me!” you snapped. Your face grew red and you regretted it immediately, but you still pressed on. “I don’t want to play this game. I already gave you everything I can. I don’t have what you want. Why don’t you bother Passione for entering your territory instead?” You bit your lip, trying to force yourself not to say what you did next. “Or- or are you too scared of them, so bullying me is the only way to soothe your hurt pride!?”
The air in the room changed instantly, the playful and amused aura radiating off of the men now gone.
“I don’t like the mouth on this one,” the quiet man spoke for the first time that evening, his voice sinister enough to make your bones shake.
“Why don’t we just take whatever's in the register and trash the place?” the muscle suggested, all facades dropped.
“I don’t care much for cakes and shit anyway,” the leader said with a snicker.
“W-wait,” you stuttered, ready to just give them the money. You tried pleading with them, tried reasoning with them, apologizing to them and making all sorts of promises you had no way of delivering on, but they had already made up their minds.
You quickly darted out from behind the counter as the leader moved behind it, almost pushing you out of the way to gain access to your register. The muscle had picked up a baseball bat leaned against the doorframe of the entrance and without sparing a second thought he swung at the storefront’s windows. With him so close to the entrance you weren’t sure what direction you should head, but before you could make a decision you felt a hand on your shoulder.
“Don’t take it personal. It’s just business,” the quiet man whispered into your ear before he gave you a rough shove to the ground.
It was hard to process what happened next. There was a lot of movement around you as two men trashed your shop while one kicked you in the ribs. Everything was a blur, even the pain was a distant thing, and you weren’t sure how long you were on the floor. It might have only been seconds, it may have been an hour.
Through the haze there was only one thing that you were able to see clearly, for only a moment, before that image too faded into the chaos.
“Bruno…?” you wheezed.
When you woke up you weren’t sure where you were. You could hardly remember what happened at first, but slowly images from earlier in the night drifted back to you, although you were convinced that you had to partially be remembering a nightmare. Limbs strewn about, peeled apart from the rest of the body, the sound of a zipper bordering on a chainsaw motor echoing, but with no blood spewing from where the severing occured, as if the bodies belonged to dolls instead of men.
And the one responsible…
You opened your eyes and screamed at the sight of Bruno’s face, shooting straight up in the bed you were currently on, while your ribs protested turning your scream from one of fear to one of pain.
“Shh, no, lay down,” his soft voice came as he gently raised his arms to your shoulders so he could guide you back down. “You’re badly injured.”
You were in too much pain to offer resistance, so you slid back into what you finally realized was a hospital bed. Your eyes were wide open but unfocused as you tried to adjust to the harsh white light of the room you were in.
Everything was quiet for a while as you slowly came to, and you eventually strained to turn your head ever so slightly to the side to meet Bruno’s gaze.
“Did you…” you trailed off, still trying to make sense of your memories. Something happened to those men, although you couldn’t possibly fathom what it was. “Save me?”
He gave you a sad smile. “I suppose I did, as long as you don’t consider it’s my fault it happened to begin with.”
You closed your eyes and let out a sigh that turned into a cough. “Thank you,” you managed. It was quiet for a long time again before you added, almost shyly, “I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” Bruno said, although his face immediately distorted into a look of guilt. He didn’t deserve to miss you. He definitely shouldn’t be here now, waiting by your hospital bed for you to wake up. He should have left once he knew you were taken care of.
But what of the rest of that gang? Surely having three of their members disappear after visiting your bakery would put you in even more danger. Bruno had to protect you; he knew there was no other choice he could have made, but had he ultimately made things even worse for you?
“How bad is the damage?” you asked.
“Your ribs are broken, but the doctor said with enough time you’ll make a full recovery.”
“Good to know… but I meant the bakery,” you said with a half smile.
Bruno frowned. “Furniture and baked goods can be replaced. Your life cannot.”
Your smile grew as you rolled your eyes. “That bad, huh?”
“...Yes.”
Another silence, this one even longer.
“The second floor of the bakery is where I live,” you said flatly. “I’m… scared to go back.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you again,” Bruno promised, perhaps a bit too quickly, as he grabbed your hand with his own. You glanced at your hand in his and gave it a skeptical look. He squeezed it. “No one will hurt you again.”
You nodded, unconvinced, before staring back up at the ceiling. You closed your eyes and eventually drifted off.
Despite his recent frustration and disappointment with Passione, this incident with you only steeled his resolve. If Polpo had offered him the territory you lived in once he proved himself worthy of his own team, he’d take it. He would drive out anyone who could hurt you, anyone who would dare seek retribution for Bruno’s actions. He’d use the money he’d gain through control of the territory to fix up your bakery, better than ever. He’d visit every day to check in on you, he’d do whatever it took to…
Shit. Bruno balked at the realization of what his train of thought really meant. This was no selfless generosity towards a random civilian. His compassion for you was the farthest thing from selfless. Had this happened to someone else he would not have made the promises he did, even if he did harbor genuine concern. But to you, he’d promise anything.
Selfishly, he realized he’d drag you farther down into the dark underbelly of Naples.
The next time you woke up you were alone.
You next saw Bruno two days after you were first admitted to the hospital. While you were a bit sore at him for bailing on you without a word, your face still lit up when he entered your room.
“No one tried to attack me while you were gone,” you said, perhaps a little more unkindly than you intended. Bruno just stared at you with a neutral expression and you frowned as your face softened. “Sorry, that wasn’t funny.”
“No, you have every right to be upset with me,” Bruno responded diplomatically, his expression still unreadable. “But I still would not have let anything happen to you.”
You pouted. “I mostly just missed the company.”
Bruno tried not to react to that. “I had business to attend to. A lot of loose ends to tie up.” He let out a small exhale. “For your sake.”
“My hero,” you said with a chuckle. “And I only mean that a little sarcastically.”
“I just wanted to check in with you.” Bruno had said it as businesslike and detached as he could. He wanted to signal that there would be no more follow up visits like this. That although he would do what he could for your safety, he was done being familiar with you.
You could see through it easily.
“I… still don’t know where I’m going to stay,” you said tentatively, as casual as you could, although perhaps you were unconsciously trying to hint at something against your better judgment. You also added, maybe a bit too boldly this time: “I don’t want to be alone right now.”
Bruno’s neutral expression faltered as he tried to keep his composure, but you could see the argument he was having with himself clearly on his face. All his resolve crumbled away at the sight of your gentle smile as you bat your eyelashes at him, perhaps a bit too cruelly.
“You can-” He paused. No, he had already committed. “You could stay with me, if it would make you feel safer.”
That had been the exact offer you had been hoping for, but now that it was out in the air, every reservation you had came crashing back at once. Growing close to him was what put you in danger in the first place.
But asking him to leave your life and never show his face to you again had been one of the hardest things you had ever done, for reasons you weren’t completely sure of yourself. You didn’t want to lose him again.
“I’d really appreciate that.”
Even after being deemed recovered enough to get discharged from the hospital you were far from autonomous. Bruno was an attentive host when he was around, though he was a busy man. But he always made sure everything you needed while he was gone was prepared and within reach.
It was surreal being in his home, especially when he was gone, spending most of the day in his bed. He had insisted you take it, saying he’d sleep on the couch. For all the effort he took to care for you the fantasies you had of the romantic tension inherent to the situation of living in his home never really happened. You at the very least kept hoping for the sweet Bruno that would visit your bakery, the Bruno you had grown to care for, would return, but he was even more emotionally distant from you now than he had been while you were still in the hospital.
You supposed you respected that, and you appreciated everything he was doing more than you could say. But surely he felt it too, all those weeks ago? That was why he visited you so often, wasn’t it? And to speak of your own feelings… how you’d eagerly anticipate his arrival, hoping he would come by himself so you could be alone with him, even if all you ever did was offer him more free baked goods to stand in for any romantic nonsense you wanted to spurt out.
Meanwhile, Bruno was handling his feelings terribly.
On the outside, he felt like he was doing a decent job of keeping things professional, but inside he was falling apart. He simultaneously wanted to have you close, to watch over you and make sure you were safe, and wanted you as far away as possible, away from any of the violence of mafia life. He felt terrible for bringing you into his home, and even worse that you could not return to your own.
And still, despite it all, you were kind to him. You were upset, and you never failed to be honest about that with him, but you had given him forgiveness he didn’t feel he deserved. He missed playfully teasing you at the bakery, asking you questions about your life, trying out desserts you made with him in mind, all the ordinary everyday things that used to make up your relationship.
Today had been a particularly bad day pain wise since you had pushed yourself a bit too much trying to stretch your legs and do basic parts of your routine on your own. When you heard the front door open in the other room you whined out a, “Bruno…”
Bruno set down the grocery bags he was holding on his kitchen counter before standing at the bedroom doorway. “Are you alright?” he asked, his eyebrows scrunched in concern.
“I tried to do the dishes,” you mumbled. “But I just ended up hurting myself.”
His eyes narrowed as he tsked at you admonishingly, walking up to the side of the bed. “I told you I can handle all the housework,” he said, picking up the empty glass on the nightstand to go fill with more water. “Do you need an ibuprofen?”
“Yeah…” you sighed, but before he could turn to leave you tugged lightly on his suit. “Wait…” He looked down at you, raising an eyebrow. You weren’t quite sure what motivated you to do it, you really needed an ibuprofen right now, but you had also spent a particularly long time in bed today without much to occupy your attention besides the pain and how much you wished he was home. You felt a bit embarrassed as you let go of the fabric. “Can I… have some ice too?” you settled on.
“Of course,” he said with a small smile before leaving. That was probably what you missed most: his real, warm, genuine smiles. One of those smiles could get you through the rest of a particularly hard shift without a problem. Now all his smiles were nothing but polite.
He soon returned with a refreshed glass of ice cold water and a painkiller, which you gulped down immediately. He went to leave and you had to stop yourself from grabbing at his suit again. He must have noticed a change in your expression because he said, “I’ll check how you’re feeling once I put the groceries away.” You nodded.
It was a while before he was back, as if he was taking his time.
He popped his head in. “Feeling better?”
“A bit…” you said, before reaching a hand up at him with a pout. “You’re so far away, Bruno.”
He chuckled a bit despite himself. “Do you need something?”
“Tell me about your day,” you said. “I’ve been so bored all day.”
“I don’t think you want to hear about my day,” he said with a frown, but despite that he hesitantly stepped into the room before spinning his desk chair around and sitting to face you.
“Fine, don’t tell me about the gang stuff,” you sighed. “Tell me about the store.”
“There’s not too much interesting to say about grocery shopping,” he said with a subdued smirk.
You turned your head to face him, your eyebrows knitted in mild frustration. “We used to talk so much, Bruno. You used to tell me all about your day without ever mentioning work. Why can’t you talk about those things now?”
Any levity on his face was gone, and you realized he was shutting himself off again. That was the last thing you wanted.
“Bruno… I’m sorry if it hurt when I told you not to see me anymore. I regret it all the time… We were such good friends, I-”
“We were never friends,” Bruno said sternly, although his words seemed to startle him as much as they did you. But still, his previous mentor’s words echoed in his head. “I don’t make friends with civilians.”
Neither of you were sure what to do next. It was as if time had stopped in his room, and neither of you could even breathe let alone speak.
“I- I don’t mean,” he finally choked out, his neutral face finally falling.
“No, no, it’s okay… you’re right… I’m sorry, I just thought…” you struggled to get out. “You’re right! I… I was projecting. You’re a mafioso, of course it was just...”
“No, wait, I-”
“It’s fine, I-”
Another painful silence.
“It was kind of you to let me stay here. I’ll leave as soon as I’m able,” you whispered. “Really… Thank you for protecting me. It’s very generous of you, signore.”
You hadn’t addressed him like that in all the time you had been living under his roof. Bruno clenched his fists, his face betraying all sorts of complex emotions. He wanted to set things straight, to take it back, but his voice betrayed him as well.
Bruno was in love with you. He couldn’t lie to himself about that anymore. But to tell you that now, after finally giving you an out from your relationship with him… finally giving you an excuse to stop waiting for him… it would be too selfish. It would be too cruel to tell you now, even if he knew on some level how he was denying the obvious fact that you held similar feelings towards him.
“I’d like to rest now,” you whispered again, turning away from him.
Robotically, he was finally able to pick himself off the chair and leave the room.
You cried as quietly as you could.
You two didn’t exchange many words over the next two days. Only utilitarian things, like questions about food and water or checking on your condition. You regretted shutting down the conversation the other night when it seemed like he had more he wanted to say, but you were really hurt. Even if you tried to tell yourself he really meant it, that he really believed there had never been anything but a customer worker relationship there, and that you were only in his home to make things even between the two of you, you knew it was all lies. Even if Bruno didn’t like you as much as you liked him, you knew he still cared about you. As much as you wanted to believe he didn’t, that this was all an obligation to him, you knew he had been your friend.
And that made what he said hurt worse than the pain in your ribs.
Bruno knew how bad you were hurting, knew how much he had betrayed your trust in him as a friend. He tried to tell himself it was best this way, but perhaps that too was a selfish thought. It seemed no matter how he wanted you, as a friend, as something more, as someone to protect from a distance, as nothing at all… each option felt just as cruel to your feelings as the last.
On the third day something was different. Bruno often made simple dinners for you, but he rarely had time to do anything too labor intensive. You couldn’t see into the kitchen, but you could tell something was going on in there. The house felt warmer too, and you even heard the sound of an oven door opening and shutting. It was too early in the day to be making dinner, and he rarely spent his free time cooking anything. Part of you was curious, but too tired and hurt to act on it.
Eventually, after a few hours, Bruno finally came into your room. You both stared at each other for a while, and when you realized he wasn’t just here for his usual check in you squirmed to sit yourself up straight. He took this as an invitation, and he sat once again across from you on the desk chair.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and he looked so genuine, so deeply sad, that you wanted to accept his apology more than anything.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” you said, curtly, with a hint of bitterness instead. It hadn’t been what you wanted to say, but it’s what came out. “You were being realistic with me.”
“I didn’t mean what I said. I was trying to push you away,” he said, his eyes pleading with you. You couldn’t meet them.
“From what? I’m stuck here until I can take care of myself,” you said, biting your lip. “Away from you? We’re nothing to each other.”
“You know that’s a lie,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He had the audacity to be upset at you right now?
“You never cared about me,” you choked out, tears threatening to spill over from the corners of your eyes. Of course you knew it was a lie, but part of you felt like you deserved to hurt him just a little bit too.
“Look at me in the eyes and tell me you honestly believe that,” he said, his voice raising a bit.
“Or what, you’ll lick me?” you taunted, turning away from him. It was an ability he claimed he had, tasting the sweat of a liar, brought up in passing once on one of his trips to the bakery. It was something that had you giggling at the time, one of his endearing quirks, but now it just reminded you of how easily he could see through you. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to meet his eyes. “If anyone is the liar here, it’s you.”
He called your name, more gentle this time but still firm. You slowly brought your head around and when your eyes met his they overflowed.
“You… you…” you stuttered. You wanted to say something that would hurt him, make him hurt as bad as he had made you, but when you saw his eyes you knew he already was. “It was never the same with Mack’s gang! They were nice, but it was never the same! You were different… you always made excuses to come see me. No one needs that much bread!” You let out a laugh at that through your tears. “Not one person who has ever bought from my bakery has ever come back as many times as you had! I wanted to believe that… I wanted to believe…” You finally became incoherent as you sobbed.
Bruno reached out to wrap his arms gently around you, minding your tender ribs, and despite how much you were hurting you leaned into his hold. You hadn’t noticed through your blurry vision, but you could hear the tears in Bruno’s voice as well when he finally spoke.
“I love you,” he breathed out, voice shaky. “You are my dear friend, and I love you. I would do anything for you.”
“Bruno, I love you,” you wheezed, holding him tighter. “I don’t want you to leave my life again, please. I don’t want to lose you!”
He gently brought his hand down your back in long comforting strokes. “Shh,” he whispered. “I won’t leave you again. I’ll make that entire territory mine if it means you’ll be safe. I’ll do anything you ask of me if it means I can have you like this.”
You two held each other for a moment while you both whispered your feelings over and over, making promises upon promises to each other. Eventually he let go and when you looked at each other his expression wasn’t what you were expecting. It was a bit sheepish, embarrassed even, but in a way that conveyed a certain giddiness.
“What’s that look for?” you asked, wiping your tears away with a raised eyebrow.
“I… I tried to make you something,” he said with an awkward chuckle. “But it’s kind of… hold on.” He got up and left the room, coming back moments later with a plate of some burnt-looking…
“Almond croissants?” you asked, laughing a little bit about the fact you even had to ask. They looked terrible.
“I know they’re your favorite,” he said, scratching the back of his head with his free hand. “But you don’t have to actually eat them.”
You smiled and took one from the plate, giving it a tentative bite.
“Well?”
“It’s… good,” you offered, trying not to make a face at them.
Bruno just scoffed at that, and he set down the plate on the nightstand to bring his hand up to grip your chin. “You sure about that?”
“Yeah, uh, good job,” you said, no longer able to keep it up a convincing tone as you blushed furiously from the way he was holding your face.
He slowly leaned in, and your eyes fluttered shut as you leaned in as well. The kiss was short, sweet, but firm and a bit hungry.
His smirk only grew as he licked his lips. “That… is the taste of a liar,” he cooed, and you couldn’t help but giggle.
“Are you sure you weren’t just tasting your own burnt croissant?” you asked with a smirk of your own despite the growing heat on your face.
His eyes narrowed a bit at your jab, and he chuckled to himself. “I’d love to wipe that smirk off your cute little face,” he purred, and you had to look away.
“Be gentle,” you said, covering your face with your hand at your own words. “I mean- I am still injured.”
“Of course, dolcezza,” he said, his expression softening for a moment, as he reached out to cup your cheek. Your heart fluttered at the pet name. “I’ll take good care of you.”