𝑳𝑰𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑻À

𝟎𝟑. 𝐈𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐨

CHIARA:

"You're coming with me."

"In your dreams." I shout back at the man who thinks he can order me around already. I'm not leaving this place within a miles radius of him and his scrawny workers. And he'll be ridiculous to expect anything less.

"Miss Milano, you are coming with me, now hurry up."

"You must be crazy to think I'd go anywhere with a man I've known less than five minutes. I'm not coming with you Leandro, leave me alone."

"I know this might be a bit of an ask but I'm going to need you to trust me." He responds, calmly, too calmly, almost calm enough to do exactly that.

"And why the hell should I do that? Have you forgotten the fact that I've been chased by men just like you almost everyday for the last five years? I haven't." I breathe heavily, tears threatening to spill.

"Miss Milano, Enzo and I are not the same, now start walking."

"No."

"You know what the one thing Leandro doesn't like? A stubborn bitch. I'm not going to tell you again, you either get walking or we'll take you there." His words hold truth, I can see it in his tensed jaw and hear it in his gritted words. I begin to lift my heels as slow as possible before remembering Joe who is still out on the floor.

"Wait! What about Joe? I'm not leaving him here like this." Leandro turns back towards me with irritation, and orders Alejandro to stay behind and call an ambulance for Joe.

"He'll be fine don't worry, I'll make sure he recovers; a few punches never did anyone too much harm he's just being dramatic." He turns back around and carries on walking faster than before, even though I was 100 percent sure his legs couldn't stretch any further.

I quickly run back towards Joe and give him a squeeze before telling him to text me once he's arrived at the hospital, his face is coated with pure shock and I spot a little bit of dried blood, but for both of our sakes I leave after blowing him a kiss.

We're down the stairs and out the door in no time at all. The sun that was shining less than an hour ago has now been replaced with light rain; falling down in little droplets, one landing directly on my head.

Mattia opens the back door of the blacked out Mercedes parked directly outside the clubs entrance, and even under the grey clouds, the entirety of this car still sparkles. The wheels are bigger than average and the number plate must be private, because I know that no car comes with a three lettered plate—or at least not for free.

I don't get to catch the initials as the rain that's now pouring down blurs my vision, and I scramble my way into the passenger seat next to Mattia. Tension's high, his hatred towards me no doubt, higher.

Lorenzo is driving and Leandro is comfortably seated as the passenger, the car is ignited and we're speeding down the empty road like there's a cop car on our tail.

I'm scared, I'll admit. I'm in a random car with the same strange men I've been trying to avoid for the last half a decade. Falling for their convincing lies and deceitful smiles. For all I know, they could be driving me to my death, and I'd only have myself to blame.

I've spent the last 5 years running from these men, and three of those years learning to hide my scars from the eyes of the public. Because the bruises and blood that scatter my arms are hard to explain when I'm as single as ever and both my parents are dead.

But there's something different between the man I've just met and the men I've put bullets through at least once a month. A part of me trusts Leandro—which I hate—because if he wanted to kill me, I'm sure he would have by now. And secondly, I can't quite get that slight petrified expression he pulled out of my mind when he heard my name.

I'm snapped out of my thoughts as Mattia offers me a bottle of water.

"For the nerves." It's not a kind, thoughtful gesture. It's one that's laced with sarcasms and a smug grin.                                                                                                                                                      
"Who ever said I was nervous?" I snap back before pushing the bottle of Avion water out of my face.                                                                                                                                                                        
"What? Scared we've spiked it?" he lets out an almost patronising laugh.                            

"Am I just that easy to read?" my response comes out dripping in as much sarcasm as his.                                                    
"You know you want it." He unscrews the lid and taunts me with a bottle of fucking water. 

"Miss Milano? Chiara?, Chi-Chi?.."                                  

I had it. The last straw.

I grab the water faster than he could disrespect me again, and aim it at his chest, soaking his black Ralph shirt as water molecules drip down to his crotch, forming the illusion that he may have had a little accident.

"If you ever call me that again, I swear to god I will open up that big mouth of yours and cut off your goddamn tongue. Are we clear?"

"What the fuck is going on?" Leandro stares at us through the mirror but I don't look back. Mattia still hasn't answered, too focused on tending to his now dripping wet clothes.

"Siamo Chiari?"

That caught his attention, as well as the rest of the passengers. Lorenzo is now also staring at me through the rear mirror whilst Leandro's eyes re glued to Lorenzo in disbelief. Mattia opens his mouth but is cut off by Leandro.

"You speak Italian?" I meet his eyes. His brows are furrowed.

"No. Sona Italiana." I don't just speak Italian. I am Italian. And though I may not have been brought up around the guns and the gore like I suspect these men have, I've had to teach myself enough to survive over the last few years.

We may not have been cut from the same cloth, but we're not as far off as they think.

A/N : please vote <3

Edited:
January 2023
August 223