The Mafia Boss' Angel
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Gosh! Those eyes! They were screaming cute! His masculine beauty was out of this world and he is the kind of man I’d love. The only problem I saw in him was the big tattoo on his arm that extended to his wrists. Being a typical church girl, I couldn’t end up with such a man unless I wanted to be disowned by my father. “I’d have a glass of martini, extra dirty and tacos.” He said in a dreamy gusty voice. “Coming right up” I said taking the menu list and flashed a timid smile at him. I felt my cheeks burning and if there was a mirror around here, I’d have checked how embarrassing I must be looking. My face must have definitely turned pink. I watched him as he ate gracefully without looking elsewhere, his eyes were fixed on his phone. His short brown hair was to die for, I instantly wished I could run my fingers through them. Too bad, I might not be the kind of woman he wants; it wouldn't hurt to have sinful fantasies. He suddenly looked towards me, maybe he must have noticed I had my eyes on him all along. Immediately he locked eyes with mine, I looked elsewhere pretending to looking for something that wasn’t missing. I could tell he gave a faint smile but kept sipping his drink slowly, as he was gazing at his phone. He gave a signal to come and get his bill and I walked gracefully to him. God! I wish he could just take me to bed. Oops! I’m a church girl and shouldn’t be thinking of things like that. “You should take a picture of me, it will last longer.” He said in a baritone voice.
Chapter 1: church girl
The loud knock on my door jolted me awake from my slumber. “Cindy, it’s time for church!” My mom hollered behind the door. I opened my eyes wearily and reached for my recommended glasses. I put it on, heaved, and got out of bed, then proceeded to open the curtains to allow fresh air into my room.
It’s a bright Sunday morning, another day to prepare for church because that’s the routine every Sunday. Don’t get me wrong, I love going to church, but sometimes the stress of it makes me weary.
I rolled out of bed, then looked towards the wall clock in my room. It’s 8:15 a.m. I still had about an hour to get dressed for church; the service begins at 9:15 am, so that’s plenty of time. But I know my mom would definitely make a fuss if I didn’t get ready before then. I don’t know why, but she prefers to get to church about fifteen minutes before the service begins.
And also, it’s a twenty-minute drive from my house to the church. I looked around my room and saw how messy it was, then heaved a sigh. My room is small, but it’s not too bad after all. It contains just a small bed, a small side drawer, a small shoe rack, and a closet.
My favorite color is pink, and that’s probably why my dad made it the theme color of my room. I have a few Hannah Montana posters and some gospel musician posters as well. My dad would definitely kill me if I kept any posters that were ‘worldly," according to him. Technically, anyone can call me a typical church girl because most of my time is spent at work or in church.
I picked up the clothes littered on the floor and separated the neat clothes from the dirty ones, then put them in their designated areas, respectively. I made my bed, then proceeded to the bathroom to have my bath. I plastered some toothpaste on my brush and shoved it in my mouth. I looked into the mirror, and I felt that wave of insecurity cloud my thinking again.
I have perfect blue eyes, a beautiful nose, and small but plump lips. My face is proof of God’s existence. My hair is light brown and really long, just like my mother’s. My only insecurity is my weight, and to me, I feel I don’t look as smart and extremely gorgeous as I really want to be, just like the supermodels I watch on TV and see on the internet.
I ran my fingers through my hair and tied it into a messy bun, then hastened up by brushing my teeth. I took a quick bath and slipped into a forest green-colored gown that was knee-length. I have the liberty to wear whatever I like today because I'm going to be in the church choir robe, so anything I wear doesn’t really matter. I went back to the bathroom mirror to adjust my hair into a neat bun, then applied light makeup to my face.
I took my white fascinator hat and a white clutch bag, then shoved my medium-sized Bible and notepad inside them. I looked in the mirror and was satisfied with what I was looking at. My face card isn’t bad, I reckon. “Cindy!” My mom called out from behind my door.
“I’m coming, mom!" I said in return.
“You’re coming? It’s almost 9 a.m.!"
“I’m done, mom; I just want to grab my stuff.”
“Fine! Be down in three minutes, okay?"
With that, I picked a white heel from my shoe rack and hurried to the living room. My parents and younger sister were already dressed and waiting for me to show up.
“Good morning, dad,” I said out loud.
“Morning, my dear. How did you sleep?” He responded in a husky tone.
“Very well, dad.”
“Morning, Cindy,” my baby sister said, which made me divert my attention to her.
“Morning Maddie”. I responded with a bright smile.
Maddie is five years younger than I am, but the bond between us makes it seem like we’re of the same age. She’s sixteen and petite, and to be honest, I envy her stature most of the time. I love her so much, but she can be really annoying and knows exactly how to get on my nerves.
“Shall we say a little prayer before we proceed?” Mother called out.
“Oh yes! Let’s come together,” says my dad as we entwine our fingers together. My family is a small one, but love has bonded us together. Even though we aren’t as rich as we all want to be, we’re content with what we have and make do with what we have available. My dad said a quick prayer before we proceeded to the car.
The car is a rickety old Mercedes, which my dad has been using for years. He bought it a few years after Maddie was born, and since then, he hasn’t changed it. He purchased it when his bakery was in good shape, but since two years ago, the bakery hasn’t been doing so well. But at least me and Maddie are good kids, so we don’t complain about their finances.
The ride to church was smooth, and we got there in no time—even less than the twenty minutes I expected because there wasn’t any traffic. I hurriedly got off the car, then proceeded to the choir quarters to collect my robe for the service.
“Hey Cindy!” A feminine voice called out. She’s one of the friends I made in church. Alice George's father is the presiding pastor in the church, so it made us pretty close as our parents are on good terms.
“Hi, Alice, can I get my robe? It’s almost 9:15,” I said hastily.
“Yeah, of course.” She takes out a robe from a blue bag, hands it over to me, and continues, “Check if it fits."
I put it on hurriedly, then curled my lip into a faint smile and said, “Yes, it does."
“Okay, let’s go inside; it’s almost time to begin the service.” Alice says, shoving some robes into the blue bag. As I was about to leave, a husky, masculine voice called my name from behind.
Chapter 2: Over Protective parents
“Hey Cindy, good morning,” a tall guy with a slim masculine figure said, coming running towards me as I got out of the choir’s quarters. His name is Sean, and his mother is the choir mistress and also the presiding pastor's wife. Technically, he is Alice’s brother, but he’s the older one between them. I have always known he has a thing for me, but he has never spoken to me before.
“How are you doing?” He asked, flashing a warm smile at me. The smile made me feel a knot in my stomach. Damn! He is so cute. I would mind staring at him all day if I were given the chance.
“I’m okay,” I said nervously, avoiding his intense gaze. The thought of him talking to me for the first time made me feel butterflies in my stomach because this was literally my prayer point.
We had exchanged glances a few times, b
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