Angel

Angel VI

Guess there will be a next time after all.

Now this is a interesting target. More than interesting if I might say. I don't know what he did but it was massive enough to piss off very low ranking mafias.

Because they're all after the one and only... Lukas Moretti.

And who did they reached out to do it? Me.

I will. Gladly.

From my sources I know his place for the trading of shipments, and also  that soon he will be the host of a mask ball. The occasion is perfect for me.

Maybe I won't kill him right away... maybe. Depends on my state of spirit next week.

The gala will be hosted inside one of the most fancy hotels in the city. He owns it, I've searched it.

The list of guests was also done, but knowing how to hack systems helps in this cases.

I'm going in under the name of Katrina Maximo.

Since the list was already closed I know he won't check anything. If he does... well maybe Katrina will ring a bell and he'll bring a double team with him... who knows?

More fun to me.

Right now I'm scrolling through my laptop to choose an outfit to take along with a mask. I don't know the concept behind it but it came in handy for me.

Should I wear black? Maybe not, that would be too... morbid.

I see one blue dress, tight on the chest and waist area, with a floor length skirt with a waist-high slit. It's almost backless, the only thing is thin straps holding it to the model body.

I think this one will do.

Roaming through my insanely big closet I check the shoes, I guess the lace up stilettos will do.

Opening the shelf of wigs, I choose not to take anyone. Their men won't do shit if they do recognize me.

I'm just going to take my red hair straight or some shit.

I'm the type of person to like everything organized with time. Sure, when it's needed I have a fast brain to think of other plans, but I still make different scenarios on my head. I'm always ready for anything.

One thing I've learned is not to be caught of guard.

Never.

}{

Parking my red BMW some blocks away from the hotel where the gala will be hosted, I put down my mirror and apply the red lipstick that was on my purse.

I put my piercings on my ears, since I they'll be showing along with the black snake tattoo behind my left ear, before adding the mask on my eyes.

Leaving the car and locking it behind me, I take a deep breath while approaching the entry door, where two men with broad shoulders and black suits are checking the people in line to get in.

When it reaches my turn, the guy eyes me up and down before raising an eyebrow at me, I roll my green eyes at him. "Katrina Maximo."

His eyes roam the list as I bite the inside of my cheek hoping Moretti didn't get smart ass on me.

The guy nods once, letting me in.

Thank God.

I walk through the black carpet until other two guys open the double gold doors for me. My eyes roam the massive two floored room.

Wow.

It has stairs in the middle of the large room, leading for the indoor balcony rails which will give view of the people down here, the lights are in tons of yellow and white, complementing the gold and white decoration.

This seems taken out of a movie of kings and queens.

Not to mention that it's massive, and all around there's tables, soft music playing as men scatter around talking with each other, their women or side chicks on dresses that are either too tight or too showy.

A blonde waitress with a black mask smiles at me offering a glass of champagne, I take it. Looking around I see that it will be harder than I thought to catch Moretti eyes, but I have the whole night if necessary.

My eyes catch the bitish pussy, who knocked me out with the back of his gun, laughing with some other men. But no sight of Moretti.

Where's that fucker?

Taking sips from my champagne, which I can tell it's a damn expensive one just by the taste and how it burns my throat, I walk around.

I pass by many people, only taking notice of the details of the construction of this place. There's many small details that make the difference.

Again, I don't know if Moretti simply has a great taste or if he pays someone to do it.

More people come in, some greeting each other, pretending to have a like in them when you can read in their eyes they despise them or just envy them.

I hate people. They're fake and full of bullshit.

A tall figure with black mask makes me halt in my steps, and I smirk internally, seeing the man I want.

Even though he's with a black mask, his firm posture gives him away. Lips in a straight line, straight posture making him taller than all the others, his tattooed hand wraps around the glass of the champagne as he takesit to his lips.

His hazel-greenish eyes keep contact with the man he's talking to.

You can feel his presence, the power and intensity he radiates can be felt kilometers away. It's like he consume the space.

He doesn't owns the biggest mafia ever just because. He has it inside him.

Smirking inside, but keeping a tall posture and head held up high, my eyes looking straight ahead, I continue my walk through the room.

When I approach him I walk in front of him and the circle of men and women, as my eyes lock with his.

Recognition fill his, and as quickly as someone blinks, they darken with anger.

I flash him a small smirk, continuing my way, eventually putting my now empty cup above one table and walking to the stairs.

Looking behind my shoulder as I start climbing them up, I see Moretti excuse himself from the people as he looks at my back, keeping track of where I'm going.

Got you.