𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐀𝐋 |𝟏𝟖+|

𝐄 𝐋 𝐄 𝐕 𝐄 𝐍

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

✼ N E V A E H  ✼　

I've never been more sure about anything else in my life because right now I'm for certain that we are speaking a different language. How different are we talking? Different like he's speaking Latin and I'm speaking English. 

Yes, it's that bad. I know for a fact that those words never left his mouth, in fact they should never dare to.

Why you may ask. You're probably tired of hearing me mention this but, maybe it's because he kidnapped me from my beautiful and peaceful and nonexistent life in Miami and brought me all the way to Italy. 

A country full of people I've never seen or met in my entire life. Oh, and maybe I've never seen them before because I was locked in Rapunzel's tower by Mother Gothel in the flesh.

At this point, this fucker can point a gun at my head and I'd still say no to his offer. Who in their right mind would ever want to work for him? He probably threatens most of the people who work for him with some sort of sick ultimatum before they even decide anything for themselves.

I know for sure that I will not partake in any part of his madness no matter what he has against me. I don't even have anything or anyone that's significant enough for me to live for. He can throw me to the wolves, and I wouldn't mind if it meant I'd never have to see his face again.

I'm pretty sure I'll end up falling in love with one of them. Who knows? It could be the Alpha male who actually turns out to be half human, but let's not get ahead of ourselves.

"I'm sorry, did I hear that right? You, Atlas Russo, want my help?" I question in complete and utter disbelief, emphasizing ever the both of us by pointing back and forth.

"Did I stutter?" He tilts his head to the side, blinking multiple times to show off his long eyelashes while antagonizing me even more by flexing his sharp jawline.

Now we're being a bitch again?

I'm actually surprised that he didn't ask how I knew his last name, but I can gather that he probably doesn't care at this point. The fact that he really thinks I'll help him if he's being a dick is really funny to me.

"I just need to make sure I heard that correctly. Not like I'm going to, but what do you need my help with exactly?" I question as I cross my arms over my chest.

It's not like I was actually going to follow through with whatever he needed of me, I just needed to know if this deal was a deal I couldn't refuse.

"I need you to do your job, Nevaeh," he so vaguely informs.

"My job?"

"Yes, your job. It's a regular employment thing where you get paid for doing shit." Atticus explains, once again, acting like I don't know what the hell that is.

"I know what a fucking job is, Atticus."

"Will you stop calling me that?" He complains, abruptly setting the file on the table beside him.

"Maybe if you stop calling me by my first name," I challenge. But I know damn well that I'll forget his name and keep calling him by the thing closest to it, I do that with everyone.

"Why?" He asks. "You don't like how it brings back memories of your precious little-"

I set my tray in front of me while I reach for the knife on the other side of his desk. That's a real stupid place by the way. I direct it at his neck, making him raise his face up to avoid it. I stood so close to him that if I tilted my head in the slightest, our lips would touch.