I was sent to capture the CIA's most wanted fugitive.
But things took a tragic turn,
My entire team was murdered before my eyes, and I was kidnapped by said fugitive.
It seemed like my government had forgotten me and I became a puppet for the fugi...
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The city of Milan is beautiful at night. There are streetlights of multiple colors and a lot of activity. Some seem like parties, some like shows and some like art. I'm sitting right outside Grandma Chiara's house, taking in the almost midnight air and thinking about the current state of my life. I miss home, I miss my life, I miss my friends, and even though they abandoned me, I miss the CIA. The thrill of doing the right thing and bringing criminals to justice. I miss that life.
But what is right? And what is wrong? In a normal world I should have captured Andreas that night and he should be charged and facing trial, but Life has a twisted way of defining things. I shouldn't be getting married to him on Saturday, what's worse, I shouldn't be fucking the bastard.
And yet here I am. Craving his touch, wanting his cock, needing him to call me his filthy girl. The mere thought of him creates heat in my lower abdomen. I realize now that I have never seen him fully naked and now, I want to.
I want to touch the muscles on his arms and back and trace whatever tattoos he might have with my tongue. I want to touch his chest and feel his heartbeat as he pulses inside me. Goddammit Laura. You are an agent, an enforcer of the law and these are your current thoughts? You need serious therapy.
My thoughts are interrupted when the headlights of a car are focused on me and coming into the driveway. I shield my eyes from the aggressive lights and the car stops just three feet away from me. Grandma Chiara is fast asleep already, meaning that I'll have to deal with this and in whatever way possible.
Except the car is a familiar Rolls Royce and it seems to contain just one individual in the driver's seat. The headlights go off and I adjust my vision. The house lights outside illuminate a pair of mismatched eyes, one a deep green and the other an icy blue. I sometimes wonder if he was born like that, or if he got contacts to make himself look scarier.
Andreas Hidalgo steps out of the driver's seat and my breathe catches. I've never seen him drive and so that must mean that Enrico is not aware of this.
Knowing Enrico, he'd never sit still and let his boss wander the streets of Milan alone and at this dangerous hour. Now history has shown that Andreas is more than capable of taking care of himself should he be in a life or death situation, but as leader of a syndicate, he never comes out alone. He should never be alone.
He slams the car door, making his way towards me with those hooded eyes of his, like a predator hunting his prey and I stand to my feet, ready for whatever he might say to me. The closer he gets, the more I get a clearer view of him. He's drunk and he reeks of expensive alcohol. But why is he here? And at this ungodly hour?
I make a point to ignore him before my body betrays me, and I make my way towards the front door. He does not say anything when I touch the doorknob. He doesn't say a word when I open the door and the sound of his heavy breathing accompanies me until I shut the door.
I fall to the floor, my back against the door and my heart beating rapidly in my chest. I don't know why but I feel him on the other side of the door as I battle with my thoughts, a war with my mind. Should I let him in? this is his grandmother's house after all. But as I stand to do what my body wants; I hear his car leaving the house.
