Bunny |18+|

Ch.11

Domenico

"Nico."

After finally snapping out of my sudden daydream I turned my head slowly, looking over to see Camillo in the driver's seat, wiggling his eyebrows. He smiled.

I frowned. "What?"

"Who's the lady on the second floor?"

"No one." I gritted my teeth and tried to get myself comfortable in the leather seats, crossing my arms before uncrossing them and finally settling on running a hand through my hair. "Don't fucking talk to me, I'm not in the mood."

"A new fuck buddy?" He questioned, "What happened to Lyla?"

"Mio Dio, Camillo." His words struck a nerve in me and glaring at his smug ass self I could've sworn I was this close to taking my gun out and sending bullets through it. "Can you be decent enough and not question my sex life right now? I don't go asking when's the last time you managed to get your hands on someone, did I?"

I saw the satisfied expression turn to a frown on his face before he grunted out, gripping the wheel as he gritted his teeth. He's mad because he knows it's true.

My head rested against the back of the seat before I sighed out, "She's part of the robbery. That's all."

"Her?" He asked, his tone laced with sarcasm—probably seeking some kind of agreement that it sounded like bullshit but all I gave him was a glare. "And the other two?"

"Her brothers," my fingers moved up to my forehead to give it a harsh rub. So fucking frustrating, "Call off that job I gave you, she returned the bricks to me."

Camillo let out a scoff, "She's full of shit. You sure they ain't packed with flour?"

"Taste tested it. It's real," I spoke back, "Besides, I would've known if any of them have been tampered with."

I was trying to keep my answers short because I know damn well what Camillo would've done if I told him the truth as to why I've been at her apartment. Not that I tried anything, no. I'm just simply curious.

In all 28 years of my existence, I've never met a woman like her.

Kiara was something, I'll tell you that. I know she's definitely naive enough to rob a Don's own house, but after taking a second glance at her living conditions, it's pretty much obvious as to why she decided to take on the job. She's either suicidal or just blatantly overconfident in her skills.

Or looks.

Albeit, our little bunny is something of her nature. Soft, perfectly rounded in the right places with that beautiful creamy chocolate skin and dark curls, I'd lie if I said I was there to just do my job. That freckled face, and goddamn that little silver nose ring just adding to her overall beauty. As much as I wanted to touch the priceless art, I had to keep reminding myself that she barely knows me. Better yet, she's just as pissed and scared of me.

Just a fucking bite. That's all I'm asking for.

*

Getting out of the car, I straightened out my dress shirt, pushing my dogtag out before I walked straight up towards La casa di Guerra, one of our old family safe-houses built in a woodland surrounded by trees and safely tucked within the shadows. Too far from civilisation, making it all the more easier to relay messages since it's in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere.