She kept her head rested on his shoulder, but upon hearing his words, she slowly opened her eyes. An amused expression appeared on her face as she moved back to look at him directly. In her eyes twinkled mischievous, sardonic sparks.
"With my father, Salvatore de Marco?"
Fiorella crossed her arms over her chest, assuming a somewhat imperious posture. Her expression became more serious, even slightly colder.
"He nearly killed you when you were on Malta last time – and he swore to God that if he ever saw you step through his doorway in that ridiculous gas mask again, he would not listen to my words a second time. He took it as a great insult, one he has yet to forgive. I beg you to reconsider your wishes."
