A Virgin For The Mafia Prince

re you afraid of me? I haven't done anything to you," Dante questioned. I avoided his gaze, looking down, and mumbled, "Well... I..." Dante lifted my chin, making me face him. "Look

re ready, let's go and meet my parents." As we started to move, embarrassment washed over me. My stomach growled loudly, a consequence of not having eaten since the previous night. I blushed, hoping Dante hadn't noticed, uncertain of how he might react to such a human and involuntary moment. As we continued walking, my stomach growled even louder. Dante stopped and looked at me but his face was expressionless , I didn't know if he was upset or not . "Let's go," he said, pulling my hand. Fear gripped me – would he have found it offensive? I quickly began apologizing, "Please, I'm so sorry. I didn't eat ,I didn't know my stomach would do that. I don't mean to embarrass you, please." Arriving at the dining table, he pulled out a chair, gesturing for me to sit. "Why are you apologizing for being hungry?" Dante questioned as he sat opposite me.p A sudden flashback hit me. In the past, my aunt had special guests, and as I served them, my stomach growled uncontrollably due to being starved for two days. After the guests left, my aunt locked me in my room and brutally beat me, accusing me of embarrassing her in front of guests. Dante snapped his fingers, bringing me back to the present. I didn't even notice a chef standing next to me ."This is our trusty chef , Michael. anything you want he will prepare." Turning to me, he asked, "What shall I serve for you ma'am?" "Um, oatmeal with water will do," I replied. Oatmeal was my usual back home, the only time I had a nice breakfast were the left overs aunt Silvia and the rest would live. The chef looked at me confused, but Dante stopped him before he could leave. "Forget about the oatmeal. I want the best breakfast prepared for her – a variety from which she can choose," Dante instructed, and the chef left to fulfill the order. When Dante said a variety, he wasn't joking. The chef brought trays filled with different kinds of food, various teas, juices, pancakes, waffles, bacon and eggs, and other things I had never seen. I tried my best to hide my hunger, but the sight of the food made me salivate. Sitting there, I looked at the food for a while. "Do you want me to feed you?" Dante asked. My eyes widened, and I quickly shook my head. I reached out for a plate full of pancakes, but he stopped me. Was it because I didn't know how to use fancy cutlery? Pulling a chair, he sat next to me, taking the pancakes and attempting to feed me. I was so shy, no one had ever done this for me before. "Open your mouth slowly," he instructed as he fed me the pancakes. I ate half of it, and he changed to grab some waffles, pouring chocolate syrup on them and