Il Mio Bellissimo Angelo
Chapter 3
Angel’s POV
*20 years later/ Almost 21*
“Angel, can you run to the market for me?” My mother called to me from the kitchen.
I let out an aggravated sigh as I placed the book I was reading on the couch beside me. When I got to the kitchen doorway, I had to hold back my laughter when I saw the amount of food that my mom had resting on nearly every surface.
“Mama,” I exasperated, in my Italian accent, as I shook my head. “What are you going? Trying to feed an army?”
She laughed as she turned to face me, “you do realize how many people we have in our family right?”
I nodded my head and laughed a little. “Alright, what do you need me to get for you?” I questioned while leaning against the counter.
Mama quickly wiped her hands on her apron and pulled the list out of the pocket on her front. “I need everything on here.”
“Okay,” I told her as I accepted the list. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She nodded her head before going back to work. I headed into the living room and picked up my purse before leaving the house. As I walked down the cobblestone streets, I tried to remember my life before we moved.
When I was 3 years old, my mother and I were out shopping and I remember my mom freezing in her steps. She picked me up and ran down the streets back to our apartment. It took her roughly 2 months to get everything arranged for us to move to Naples, Italy.
When I was 14, I remember asking her why we head moved so suddenly but she never gave me a real answer. I never bothered to ask her again because I noticed that she tensed up every time that I asked. But I always had the feeling that we were being followed, and maybe that is why she felt like we had to move.
When I got to the market, it didn’t take me very long to gather what my mother needed. I was on my way out the door when I ran into someone making all of my bags drop to the floor.
“Mi dispiace tanto [I am so sorry],” I apologized in Italian after I bent down to pick up my bags.
“Don’t worry about it,” a masculine voice responded in English as another set of hands joined mine.
When I returned to my full height, I raised my head and stared into the eyes of one of the most gorgeous men that I have ever seen. When he stared into my eyes it felt like he was staring into my soul.
“Here,” he said as he handed me one of my bags with a smile on his face.
“Thank you. I’m Angel, and you are?” I told him as I accepted the bag from him and smiled gently.
“My name is Lucifer,” he told me and I could swear I was a twinge of red in his eyes.
*20 years later/ Almost 21*
“Angel, can you run to the market for me?” My mother called to me from the kitchen.
I let out an aggravated sigh as I placed the book I was reading on the couch beside me. When I got to the kitchen doorway, I had to hold back my laughter when I saw the amount of food that my mom had resting on nearly every surface.
“Mama,” I exasperated, in my Italian accent, as I shook my head. “What are you going? Trying to feed an army?”
She laughed as she turned to face me, “you do realize how many people we have in our family right?”
I nodded my head and laughed a little. “Alright, what do you need me to get for you?” I questioned while leaning against the counter.
Mama quickly wiped her hands on her apron and pulled the list out of the pocket on her front. “I need everything on here.”
“Okay,” I told her as I accepted the list. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
She nodded her head before going back to work. I headed into the living room and picked up my purse before leaving the house. As I walked down the cobblestone streets, I tried to remember my life before we moved.
When I was 3 years old, my mother and I were out shopping and I remember my mom freezing in her steps. She picked me up and ran down the streets back to our apartment. It took her roughly 2 months to get everything arranged for us to move to Naples, Italy.
When I was 14, I remember asking her why we head moved so suddenly but she never gave me a real answer. I never bothered to ask her again because I noticed that she tensed up every time that I asked. But I always had the feeling that we were being followed, and maybe that is why she felt like we had to move.
When I got to the market, it didn’t take me very long to gather what my mother needed. I was on my way out the door when I ran into someone making all of my bags drop to the floor.
“Mi dispiace tanto [I am so sorry],” I apologized in Italian after I bent down to pick up my bags.
“Don’t worry about it,” a masculine voice responded in English as another set of hands joined mine.
When I returned to my full height, I raised my head and stared into the eyes of one of the most gorgeous men that I have ever seen. When he stared into my eyes it felt like he was staring into my soul.
“Here,” he said as he handed me one of my bags with a smile on his face.
“Thank you. I’m Angel, and you are?” I told him as I accepted the bag from him and smiled gently.
“My name is Lucifer,” he told me and I could swear I was a twinge of red in his eyes.