THE DEVIL'S MISTRESS

Chapter One - The Hitman?

DAMIEN RAPHAËL POV

"Please..." His voice quivered with desperation, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. "I'll give you five million dollars, just let me live."

I calmly slid a fresh magazine into my pistol, the smooth metallic click breaking the tension.

"Ten." I corrected, pacing slowly around him, flicking the safety off with a soft click.

He hesitated, eyes darting nervously. "Deal." He finally sputtered, "but...who sent you?"

I ignored the pathetic attempt at negotiation. "Where's the check?"

With a shaky hand, he pointed toward the desk drawer. I opened it, retrieving his checkbook and a pen. Tossing them on the desk, I loosened the ropes on his wrists just enough for him to move.

He fumbled with the pen, his trembling fingers struggling to write. Once he finished, I took the check, glanced at the amount and tucked it neatly inside my jacket.

He exhaled in relief as I turned toward the door. His eyes flicked toward the lifeless bodies of his guards, crumpled on the floor, blood pooling beneath them.

Pausing, I spoke, briefly looking back. "I've already got fifteen million to put you in the ground and I don't recall agreeing to your offer."

His face paled, panic setting in. "No, wait..."

The single shot cracked through the air, the bullet embedding itself neatly between his eyes. His head snapped back, a trickle of blood running down his face as his body slumped lifelessly in the chair.

I holstered my gun, the cold steel snug against my ribs as I glanced at my watch. Fifteen minutes and twenty-five seconds.

Clean work, as always.

Leaving the carnage behind, I headed out, slipping my gloves into my pocket as I climbed into my car; a black Ferrari, sleek and quiet.

The engine purred to life, and within seconds, I was cruising through the city, sunglasses shielding my eyes from the glare of the sun.

"Daddy's on his way, princess." I muttered, the hum of the engine soothing as the city streets blurred past.

A few minutes later, my earpiece buzzed. I answered, my gaze locked on the road ahead.

"Job done?" The familiar voice of a CEO client crackled through.

"Any doubt?" I responded.

He had contracted me to eliminate his brother, clearing the path for him to inherit his family's legacy as next of kin. It was a straightforward job, part of my line of work as a contract killer.

"Efficient, as always, Raphaël." He chuckled. "Word has it you're on the FBI's radar, but you're walking around the city like you own the place."

I almost laughed, clearly he had done his homework.

The feds had been sniffing around for years, but they'd never find anything that would stick.

"I walk free because no one ever has proof." I replied smoothly. "What else have you heard?"

"You never miss and you're on every hit list imaginable. No boundaries, no hesitation." His words scratched the surface, barely skimming the depth of my reputation.

Born into the Mafia, I'd been trained since I could walk. By seventeen, I was an expert in death and now, at twenty-nine, I was the best at what I did.

"This is the last you'll hear from me." I said, not bothering to entertain his praise any further.