Siciliano | [𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 '365 𝗗𝗮𝘆𝘀 𝗥𝗲𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲']

𝐈.

//TW: Drug use and kidnapping.
══════════════════════════

The Italian kings gaze wandered the simple cold box of a room he was confined to, surprisingly relaxed after being escorted into a murdered out SUV that waited just outside of his business office nestled deep within downtown Miami. His security was quick to react at his side, but a badge scribed with the CIA federal official credentials held them fast in their place and their hands too quickly receded their weapons back within their holsters.

Massimo had no choice, but to abide.

He sat within a metallic chair too small for his stature, hands cuffed behind the seat. Waiting. Two hours had to have gone by since being taken within their custody. His bladder screamed for relief, but he would hold back not saying a single word that could be used against him. He knew how the Miranda rights went word for word. At the moment he was bare practically, having his wallet and two cell phones confiscated. Luckily for him, they wouldn’t find anything to use as leverage for his freedom.

Seems to have taken them nearly three hours to figure that out.

The door clicked and swung open to reveal a dark brunette, hair meshed into a neat bun, strutting into the room with an air about her that drew his attention in its entirety. An honorable mention that she had the Don of the Toricelli’s family intrigued just by looks alone.

“Massimo Michele Toricelli,” the businessman held his composure as he was groomed to do among the wolves within his world who contained a far more lethal bite than what she was capable of. He was unphased as she spoke his entire name from beige lips that stole his glance for a mere second before he looked back into her hazel dignified pools. “You motherfucker.” She sneered, planting her rear at the corner of the table and tossed his belongings carelessly onto the tabletop. She contained a peculiar accent. It was attractive, but he remained monotonous.

“Am I being detained, [officer]?” his deep chocolate hues dragged up from her clavicle to her eyes that radiated annoyance. He was right. They had nothing to use against him. With that realization, the corner of his lip curled into a faint taunting smirk along with an entertained arch of his brow. It cost him a rude awakening.

The fearless vixen smacked him across the face with the back of her hand. No one there to protect him from her wrath. His title as the head of his family meant nothing within these walls.

Massimo inhaled deeply, but kept his composure as he slowly turned his face back towards her. She leaned forward propping her forearm on her thigh with the other hand placed on the table.

“In here, I can do whatever I want. Whether you are detained or not. We work… sort of like the mafia, you could say.” She narrowed her eyes and smiled. “No one can touch us, [but you, you handsome piece of shit. I have you in my reach. Five years of my work on your fucking family with only speculations.]” She went on to speak a language he wasn’t familiar with.

“Keep talking like that. I like it.” He smiled. She had no words.

Laura drew her head back abruptly and stepped down from the table, swiveling around and walked away from him placing her hand on her hip while the other splayed her slender fingers over her mouth to recollect her thoughts.

“I am guessing none of this is on camera, so it’s your word against mine.” He stated, sweeping across the sleek table's surface that contained traces of what looked like dry blood. He then landed his gaze onto her form. The dress pants she wore fit her snug, accentuating the lovely curves of her backside. An intelligent lethal woman in heels is his weakness.