Marrying The Mafia Boss

Chapter 1

"Quiy!" I called out, feeling embarrassed now that my nervousness had been replaced with shyness as I finally found him.

"Mommy!" His eyes widened when he turned to me, but he kept his small hands wrapped around the man's thigh.

"Hey. Why are you hugging him? Do you know him?" I asked as I knelt in front of him to level our faces.

"No," he replied.

I looked up at the man, who was still in shock, his eyes nearly bulging out, and seemingly holding his breath.

"Do you know my child?" I asked the man. He didn't speak but shook his head. I turned my attention back to Quiy.

"You don't know him, so why did you call him Daddy?"

The questions just kept coming.

"You wouldn't buy me chocolate, so I looked for someone who could. I saw him here and thought I'd give it a try, Mommy..." the child explained.

I ran a hand over my face and closed my eyes. How many more headaches will you give me today, Quiy?

I held back the urge to pinch his side. This kid has no shame!

"I... I really thought I got someone pregnant," the man finally spoke, shaking his head while looking at the child. "Geez... your daughter is something," he added, causing me to glance at him again.

"I-I'm sorry, Brother. I'm so embarrassed by what my child did, but I hope you can forgive her. To ease your worries, let me assure you that you didn't get anyone pregnant. Congratulations, Brother" I said with an awkward smile, still embarrassed.

I stood up and took hold of Quiy's hand, but he continued to whine about buying chocolate.

"Why don't you buy her some? I'll pay," the guy offered, but I quickly shook my head.

"No, that's okay. I can buy it for her, but she's not allowed to have it because, well, look at her teeth." I turned to Quiy, who was pouting like a duck. "...they're incomplete," I added.

He glanced at my daughter too.

"What else do you want besides chocolate, baby? I'll buy it for you," he offered again.

Who is this guy? Is he a saint?

Quiy looked at me as if seeking permission. If it were up to me, I'd say no. But to avoid dealing with a crying child later, I agreed.

It's so hard to calm her down once she starts crying. It's like a slaughtered animal when that happens.

"Thanks for the treat, Brother, even though it wasn't necessary. I should be the one treating you to make up for the scare my child caused you."

"It's nothing. Plus, I wasn't nervous because I don't want kids. In fact, I'd be happy if I did," he said, surprising me.

What? Isn't it usually the case in movies that guys get scared when they find out they've gotten someone pregnant because they don't want the responsibility? Or not?

"You're surprised, I suppose?" he asked. He sighed before continuing. "My parents are so obsessed with me having kids. Every birthday, that's their wish for me," he shared. I didn't ask, but I decided to listen, so his words wouldn't go to waste... and, of course, to make up for what Quiy did.

"They pray every night for me to finally settle down with someone and have kids. I want that too, but of course, marriage is not something to be rushed. It has to go through a process because I know how sacred it is," he narrated.

If that's his perspective, why would he be happy to have a child (if what Quiy did earlier were true) even if he's not married yet?

"So, you're okay with having a child before getting married?" I inquired since that's what I understood from what he was implying.

His eyes darted at me. We both raised our eyebrows at each other-me, waiting for his answer, and him, as if debating whether to respond or not.

"Depends on the situation. If it was an accident-say I got drunk and accidentally impregnated a woman who was also under the influence of alcohol, which is what I thought happened when your daughter introduced herself as my kid, then yes-"

"Because you had no choice, right?" I cut him off.

"Nope. Because that is what should be done, not because I have no choice, because if I wanted to, I could have refused to acknowledge the child. That's if I were someone who's an a**hole," he replied.

"Mommy, what does a**hole mean?" Quiy asked while eating chocolate. Despite my attempts to avoid buying it, she still insisted on having it, so I gave in.

"Don't ever say that word, okay, Quiy? It's a bad word," I advised her, and she immediately nodded in agreement.

She didn't ask any more questions after that and continued eating her chocolate.

"But of course, I'd like to get married before having kids. I want my children to be made out of love," he said, raising my eyebrow again.

"So, you're implying that children conceived out of wedlock aren't made out of love?"

I crossed my arms. The conversation was heating up.

The corner of his lip lifted into a smirk.

"You could say that, but I'm not implying that it's true for everyone. That's just my opinion, Miss," he answered.

Fair enough.

"I'm Damien, by the way..." he introduced himself. "Damien Salvatore," he added, extending his right hand for a handshake. I looked at his hand before returning my gaze to his eyes.

"Paige," I uttered as I accepted his hand. I don't usually do this, but I'm thankful that he was the one my child found and didn't run away with Quiy.

Taking care of a mischievous child is tough. It's a heavy responsibility, and being a mother to Quiy is a lifetime commitment, but the fulfillment is different when I see how happy he is with simple things.

It's true that seeing your child happy and well takes away all the fatigue. It makes all the effort worth it, and I don't mind being drained all day because I have Quiy, who wipes away all of that.

I had just finished freshening up after work when I sat on the sofa to watch my child play with dolls on the floor. She even talked to them as if expecting them to respond.

"There, you're pretty again..." she said as she stroked the hair of one Barbie.

My smile grew even wider.

A few moments later, she turned to me with a frown on her face.

"Mommy, I have a question," she said. I took a deep breath because I knew it would be another out-of-this-world question, then nodded to signal that she could go ahead and ask.

"My Barbies are so beautiful, but why don't they have underwear? Shouldn't they have them so no one can peek?" she asked with full curiosity, each word spoken seriously.

I knew it. Why does my child think like this? What did I feed her to make her like this?

"They're not real people, sweetheart. They're not like Mommy who has real boobs and, you know..." I tried my best to explain, but it seemed she still wasn't convinced.

"Boobs and what, Mommy?"

I shook my head. That's enough for today, Quiy. Any more, and I might take back what I said earlier about you being a stress reliever.

"Boobs and it's time for bed because it's late. I have work tomorrow, and you'll be left with Tita Heidi again," I said as I approached her to pick her up.

I'll clean up her things and toys later after I put her to sleep.

Heidi isn't even a relative. She just calls her Aunt's because, well, she's a woman, and calling her Uncle would be weird. Heidi is our neighbor who doesn't have kids, so she's delighted whenever she gets to watch Quiy. I don't even know how she handles taking care of my child, who's a handful with her mischief and talkativeness.

"Am I bad, Mommy?" She suddenly asked as we were heading to our shared room. Our apartment is small, and she refuses to sleep without me beside her, so we share a room. It's for the best because she often has nightmares and wakes up in the middle of the night.

"Why do you ask that?"

She let out a dramatic sigh, her lips forming a pout.

"Because I hit the kid that Aunt Heidi was watching yesterday," she said, which surprised me.

What? Why was there hitting involved? Heidi didn't mention anything to me.

"Oh no," I exclaimed in shock. "Why did you hit him?" I cringed as I imagined it. Just thinking about how she did it, I already felt sorry for the boy. With how heavy-handed this kid is...

I often can't believe she's only three years old.

"Because he tried to take my Barbie! He's a boy, and he's trying to take my toys, and I didn't even do anything to him," she complained.

I don't know what to feel anymore. I just hope I make it to at least sixty!

It's just a kid's fight, Paige. I reminded myself. I'll just scold her later because this child is really violent. I wasn't like that. So I'm sure she got it from my older sister.

She was violent. She used to hit me whenever she was laughing, annoyed, or even crying. She always used me as a punching bag for her amusement.

Oh no! I'm remembering it again. Now I'm on the

To Be Continued...