THE MAFIA'S EXECUTIONER [√Complete]

I

[JENNIE]

I was hiding behind a potted plant, with some drunk guy who looked like in need of an ambulance. I drank out the rest of the beer left in the glass---liquid courage even though I wasn't much of a drinker, while I watched her.

It's not like I was the only one.

Everyone is watching her.

Lalisa Alston.

The Alstons are one of the powerful French Mafia Royalty.

They owned everything.

Got away with everything.

And were too beautiful for words.

I bit down on my bottom lip as male students watched in awe, as she took one step inside the massive room.

I sipped the tepid beer and watched.

They were waiting for something.

And I knew exactly what they were waiting for.

Because I'd asked her to come.

During History class, when everyone was supposed to be watching some boring movie, I'd dropped my pen, she picked it up, our fingers brushed, and I jerked away in fear.

Fear that she was really as dangerous as everyone said she was.

And fear that I would have a violent reaction to her touch like everyone else did.

And I was right.

My reaction was completely uncalled for.

It was lust.

The kind that wraps itself around you so tight that it's hard to breathe, the kind that doesn't let up throughout the day, only increases with each breath and each step you take until you're sick with it.

Her eyes scanned the room.

I stayed behind the plant, what the hell was a plant doing there anyway? They're partying in a room where souls were probably still floating around?

The next day in class, she asked me for a piece of paper.

Then, she handed it back to me with a note written in it that says, "You're beautiful."

Who wrote notes in college?

She did.

Beautiful, dangerous, Lisa.

Her eyes finally landed on the plant.

And then on me.

The crowd parted.

With a shaking hand, I lowered the cup.
And then she was there, in front of me.

"Hey," she rasped.

"Hi." I found my voice.

Another step, until we were nearly chest to chest, I looked up into her eyes, waiting for something. We'd exchanged maybe two sentences in the last week. She'd called me beautiful, and I told her I'd be at the party tonight.

That was it.

"Dance with me." She held out her hand.

I stared at it. "You? Dance?"

"Don't you?" She grinned, her full smile was like a punch to the gut, no one had a right to look so beautiful and lethal all at once. I gave her my hand and walked with her toward the area where people were dancing.