Book three of the only series
They gave her one mission. They told her to find the Chicago mob Capo and get revenge. So they sent her away. She had a plan. A mindset. Goals she needed to reach.
Until she met his son.
He was supposed to be the en...
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I felt Alessio's eyes on me as I walked away, could feel them right through the expressive fabric of the red silky dress. I wouldn't have worn it on any other day because red wasn't me. I never wore anything that made me stand out. But as soon as I tried it on and it actually fit, how could I take it back off? Especially after I felt how comfortable it was.
Fuck Alessio and all his goddamn money.
I quickly grabbed my coat and reached for the small gun I had laid on my dresser but I quickly stopped and thought about it. I couldn't risk them checking me before going into the casino, or Alessio seeing it.
Could I trust him?
No. I shouldn't.
But I couldn't take it. So I had to, just for one night.
I backed away from it and walked back into the living room. Alessio was staring at all my paintings and I felt a certain type of vulnerability take over the stronger he studied them with those perfect gray eyes and calm demeanor. Like he was trying to figure out my life with just one look at the stuff I had created.
Little did he know they were splattered all over his restaurant walls. It was no use being angry over it when I could do nothing about it. So I tried to let it go even though the fire only burned brighter everyday. I'd figure it out after I was done with my mission.
He looked up at me at the sound of my heels against my floors, his gaze first landing on the shoes I never wore before they went up my body and to my face. He put his hands in the pockets of his pants, leaning against my front door where I had told him to stay.
Sudden goosebumps rose on my back, the feeling of his hands on me was sheared into my brain. My wrist felt like he burned a layer of the delicate skin, or my heart was trying to climb it's way out of my chest just from a simple touch from a man that was way too handsome and killed people for a living. I shouldn't have found him as attractive as I did, the fact that he was the son of the man I was trying to kill should've pushed the feelings away. It also should've been enough of a reason for me not to let him in my apartment.
But everything was blurry and he made it even more blurry by promising me things and looking at me like that. I needed to stop painting him as a good Bertelli, because no Bertelli was good.
"Are you ready or are you going to stare at me all day?" I asked, raising my brows as I shrugged my trench coat on.
"Only if you give me your number," he said.
Dear god, help me.
"Sorry, but I'm not interested-" he grabbed my arm before I could reach to open the front door. Even through the thick leather of my coat he was burning right through me.
"What do I have to do?" he asked, the words cascaded down my ear, to my neck until my body was fighting to push away. I turned just as he let go of me, my back to the door and now was when I realized I was fucked of getting my way out of this.
