My body lifts up from the soft and warm material my body was covered in and I groan out of protest.

I try to grab on something warm but having my eyes closed isn't helping the cause.

My hands luckily get a hold of the warm material again and I smile, my eyes still closed, while I pull it up.

This time, my body gets pulled back to, preventing me from lifting the material with me.

I groan and tug on the material harder and try to bring it to my body but the thing holding me tugs on me too.

My hands slip from the material and I try feeling around for it but it's long gone now.

Despite wanting to get my hands on something warm, I keep my eyes closed while tugging on a random piece of material that happens to be next me.

I feel a few buttons on the piece of material and try to open my tired eyes a bit to see what this is but fail miserably.

The material is rough and feels thin. Something warm and hard is wrapped around it and I kind of like it.

The warm thing has peaked edges here and there which move a tad when I press my finger against them. I don't know what I'm pressing, but it sure feels nice, and hard.

After a little while, fresh, cold air hits my face unexpectedly and that causes my eyes to snap open.

Squinting a bit due to the bright light coming from somewhere in front of me, I dig my face in the side of the hard thing.

"Neonata," the thing speaks and I don't even have to look up to know that Vincent is the one I've been poking.

Now I'm embarassed that I was poking him like a curious toddler. My mind is a bit fuzzy on what exactly happened and why I'm in this position.

I now remember going to sleep in the cabin at some point so I guess I was asleep for the whole flight.

I rub my eyes a bit to get rid of the sleepiness, even though it doesn't really work, and I look around.

This entire place is different from where I was hours ago.

"Where are we?" I ask while stretching out in his arms. I climb out of his arms and stand in front of his large frame.

"Private air strip," he answers while wrapping his arms around my waist. He plants a soft kiss against my forehead before flipping me around.

He leads me towards a clean, matte black Ferrari and opens the door for me. It's smells and looks new so I'm guessing he got this just for our little vacation.

Vincenzo closes the door for me and stomps around the car. I find my phone sitting perfectly on the dash, my curiosity peaked in that most.

The driver's seat door opens and I turn my body slightly to look at him. "What were you doing with my phone?" I ask, sounding like I have something to hide on it, but in actual reality, my phone is bone dry of any messages.

He gets into the car, quiet, not even glancing over at me. He starts the engine and starts driving away from his private jet.

His hand clutch onto the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles almost white from how hard he's holding it.

I grab my phone from the dash and open it, the first thing popping up is my chat with my father.

The last thing I did in my phone was to text my father and tell him about my vacation plans with Vincenzo and he didn't agree at all.

It was a whole argument over text, and with my father being able to type fast, we were at it for a while.

"Your father doesn't like me, or more specifically, he doesn't want is to be a thing," Vincenzo says, his voice low with hurt and pain. "I get I'm not a good guy, but the way he sees me..."

"He's just being overprotective," I quickly say to put him at ease.

"Bullshit," he grits while shaking his head. "I didn't mean to invade your privacy like that, but the message was right there and I let my better judgement get the better of me."

"I don't care that you were in my phone."

"He doesn't like us being us," he sighs, his hands on the steering wheel loosening just a bit. "He doesn't approve of us."

"I don't care," I say with a shrug of my shoulders.

My father will get over his little fit eventually and when he does, he will see how happy I actually am with Vincenzo.

He might be some big and scary Don to everyone else, but I just see a man that makes me happy.

Call me a simp because I'm definitely simping for this stupid Italian man next to me.

He's mine and I'm his, I'm not going anywhere, nor is he, my father will have to accept that just like how the rest of he world will have to accept it sooner rather than later.

"And when I ask for hand in marriage? What then? What if he say no?"

"I–" that takes me completely off guard that even my brain can't come up with a response quick enough.

"You know I want to marry you and–"

"And you will," I say underneath my breath, low enough for him to hear, and low enough to make me think that he didn't hear me.

He glances over in my direction and smiles for a short second before looking back at the road, choosing to not say anything about what I just said.

"I just need his blessing when I do ask," he says, his chest puffing out as he breathes heavily.

I choose to not say anything after that because I don't know what else I can say to him.

My father is most likely not going to like the idea of Vincenzo marrying me, but if he truly loves me as his daughter, he will see that I want to spend the rest of my life with this man.

I want to spend the rest of my life with this man. Just saying that to myself makes it feel like what's going on around me is just a dream.

It feels like I've been in stuck in one of the most emotional and mental testing lucid dreams of my life.

What's going on in my life shouldn't be happening. I shouldn't be in a relationship with a man as powerful as Vincenzo because it doesn't add up.

I'm the adopted, black girl who has a high IQ and low social skills. I was raised by the most loving, but strict and strong, white man who has been nothing but an amazing father to me.

Everything has been given to me on a golden platter by my father and he has wanted nothing but all of the world's happiness for his little cinnamon bun.

Vincenzo is the Italian man who has fallen out of a Mafia story and right into my lap. He was raised and groomed to be some heartless, ruthless and merciless Don who was going to lead the Sicilian Mafia into glory, and he has done just that.

His woman should be some good Sicilian girl raised by two good parents who have taught her how to take care of her husband.

I'm some teenage girl who wants to make her father happy by any means and I haven't been taught how to survive in an organisation like the Sicilian Mafia.

I don't know how to make traditional Italian food or even speak the language properly. I don't know how to act like a Sicilian wife or how to act around powerful people of the Mafia.

I don't know anything about being the woman people think Vincenzo should have, but yet, here I am, the girl he chose to have as his.

There's so much more I have to learn and get around to fit into this world of his, but I'm going to do my best to be the perfect woman.

He calls me his regina and to me he is my re.

"Amore?" I hum in response as I try to collect my thoughts and words. "Stai bene?" He asks while placing his hand on my thigh.

He squeezes my lower thigh just a little to get my attention and I look at him with a smile.

[Are you okay?]

"Sì," I reply while placing my hand ontop of his tatted hand. "Sto bene, mio re," I say with the widest smile, and he smiles at me, the happiest and widest smile I've ever received from him.

[I'm okay, my king.]

"Sei solo perfetta, la mia regina," he says in a tone of so much relief. This is the most Italian I've spoken and I think it just makes him happy that I'm trying.

[You are just perfect, my queen]

"E tu sei perfetto, re."

————

"And you are perfect, king."

A little lovey dovey moment.

————