Elodie Hart;
"Tasting her is like heaven. But Harlow isn't heaven. Nor is she hell; Harlow is the f*cking devil herself, with her sharp intimidation and her cruel way of things, but she tastes nothing like it. She tastes of sweetness and determinati...
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I was fucking outraged at Antonio. He's done this before. He always does this, thinking he'll get away.
"I warned you." I reminded him. I've told him multiple times, this is his last fucking strike. He's a good worker, but his lack of respect for the women living and working in this household drives me to the point where I'd love to see him with a bullet between his motherfucking eyes.
"Harlow-"
I cut him off, slamming my fists down on the desk in front of him, towering over him as he sits in his chair. "It's Miss fucking DeLaine to you." I snap at him.
"She wanted it." He simply states, and my anger just rises. He must be joking. The fucking audacity of this man. I pull my gun out of my back pocket, cocking it and pushing it against his forehead firmly, making his head push back. I've lost my patience with him. I've been losing it for a fucking while.
"What was that? Speak the fuck up. Go on, repeat what you just said, Antonio. Do it, and I'll make sure the bullet inside of this gun pierces your skull." I warn him harshly, and he puts his hands up in defence quickly, his expression melting in fear.
"Shit, fuck, I'm sorry okay, sorry Miss." Antonio panics, looking down at the floor. I hope he's fucking embarrassed and ashamed.
"I'm fairly nice you know," I tell him, "-But when it comes to men like you, I'm not so nice and forgiving. This was your last strike, Antonio. Do it again and I'll murder you." I threaten him as he frantically nods his head. I slowly back the gun away from his head, placing it on my desk. "Now leave."
He mutters something under his breath and I roll my eyes, watching him get up without another word and scurry towards the door. Imbécil. Men like him make the world a hell to live for women.
I leave shortly after Antonio, heading for the meeting room. The Italian mafia has been awfully quiet this month, with no threats, hidden messages, or any attacks on us lately, which we know is all too suspicious to be nothing. I arrive at the meeting room and see everyone already there, sitting at the long table, laptops, files and a bunch of papers surrounding them as they carry on working to break through the enemy's systems.
"Cómo va, algo de suerte?" (Translation: How's it going, any luck?)
"No señora, todavía no, parece que estos cabrones se han puesto las pilas para asegurar sus programas." Harry, a very trustworthy and loyal worker of mine replied, not letting his eyes off of his laptop, coding more shit into it. That's what I like to see. (Translation: No ma'am, not yet, it looks like these bastards have got their act together to secure their programs.)
I walk over to take my seat next to Simon, at the top of the table, when I notice that there's something completely different on his screen than what everyone else he's doing. He's not even supposed to be here, never mind that. I lean over to take a closer look and my face drops in disappointment.
