Bloodlines and Bullets

twenty-five

At the bar, I order a martini, settling onto a barstool with a casual air. As soon as I take a sip, the bitter taste hits me like a slap. It takes everything in me not to grimace. I try another sip, hoping for a different result, but it's just as bad.

Ugh. Who on earth actually enjoys martinis?

I let my eyes drift over the crowd, careful not to linger on any one face for too long. The guy I'm here for hasn't shown up yet, or if he has, he's not standing where I can see him.

A wave of regret washes over me. Maybe I should have mentioned to Luciano that I'm a bit shortsighted. Even if the guy were here, I probably wouldn't spot him unless he was right in front of me.

I almost failed my visual test for my driver's licence, even with glasses on. The optician couldn't believe it. The theory test was another disaster - failed that twice, but that had nothing to do with my eyes and everything to do with those ridiculous questions.

Most days, I don't mind navigating the world in a blur. There aren't many people I want to see clearly anyway. But today, those glasses would be a real help. Too bad they broke in Europe. Now that we're back in Canada, I should probably get a new pair - as long as I don't screw up this mission first.

La Rosa is new territory for me. Of course, so is Toronto, which explains why this place feels unfamiliar.

The bar is a hidden gem nestled in the heart of the city, its entrance so unassuming that you'd miss it if you weren't looking for it. From the outside, it seems ordinary, almost bland, but stepping inside reveals a world of refined elegance and lively energy.

The bar itself is a masterpiece of polished wood, its surface gleaming under the soft, warm lighting that casts a golden glow over everything. Behind it, shelves are lined with an impressive collection of premium spirits, each bottle meticulously arranged, a silent testament to the bar's commitment to quality. The bartenders, dressed in sleek, tailored attire, move with practised precision as they craft cocktails with a skill that borders on artistry.

Plush velvet couches and high-backed chairs are scattered around, inviting the well-dressed patrons to sink into their comfort and savour their drinks. The air is filled with a quiet buzz of conversation, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the soft hum of music in the background.

Suddenly, the atmosphere shifts. I sense it before I see it - the subtle fidgeting of women adjusting their outfits, the men straightening their posture, all in anticipation of someone's arrival.

Showtime.

I take another sip of my drink, letting the bitter liquid burn its way down, and keep my back turned, ignoring the stir behind me. Whatever's happening, it can wait. When I finish my drink, I turn on my heel and make my way towards the bathroom. On the way, I spot them - Ares and Arrio Martinez, two brothers known for their power and scandal. Arrio, with his reputation as a heartbreaker, is my target tonight. Through him, I'll find my way into Ares' world, and from there, who knows what secrets I might uncover.

The bathroom is dimly lit, with a yellowish hue that casts a shadow over everything. I stand before a smudged mirror, my crimson dress hugging my curves - a deliberate choice for the night's mission. A sly smile plays on my lips as I reach into my purse and pull out a tube of red lipstick. With a practised hand, I twist the tube open and apply the vibrant red to my lips, the colour a striking contrast against the dim, shadowy room.

The scent of perfume and spilled drinks hangs in the air, but I stay focused on my reflection. Unfamiliar brown eyes stare back at me, intense, determined, ready for the wild night ahead. As I adjust my dress, I catch a glimpse of the ink peeking out from beneath the fabric on my thigh - a tattoo, its possible meaning and story hidden just out of sight, much like the secrets I'm about to pursue.