Alora Imari has the face of an angel, but the body of a vixen. She's feared by all. Her and her elder brother, Giovanni Imari, were passed down the family business; becoming mobsters for the Italian mafia.
Many describe Alora as being heartless and...
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"Where to next, Avi?" Thomas asks. It's close to twelve, but I'm in desperate need of a shower.
"Home first. We have a deal going out tonight at twelve and I have to oversee that," I inform him.
"Giovanni's idea, I gather?" He deduces.
I gasp histrionically. "How'd you know?" My voice resembled astonishment. He laughs and dips his head slightly. "That brat can't go, so I have to. Failed to mention that Salvatore may or may not show up until the last moment." I add. I told Thomas about Salvatore on the drive back home.
"Salvatore? Didn't you accuse him of sleeping with his sister?" He asks. I snort an ugly laugh at the memory of our first interaction.
"Ah, that was golden. Wish I could've gotten it on tape," I say. "That obnoxious bastard deserved it. I wish I could've threw something in about his father, potential daddy issues?" I inquire. "Maybe I can tonight, if he gives me a reason."
"Bloody hell, love. You don't know when to stop, do you?" He huffs out a cold breath.
"It's what I was born to do."
☠︎
"What time is it?" I ask Thomas as soon as I enter the car again. I took my time showering and scrubbing myself clean. I felt gross and looked like death. My attire was nothing to gawk at.
"Half-past eleven," he briefly answers. "I reckon we have enough time to get there." He includes. I bit my lip in thought. It doesn't matter if I'm late, no one is expecting me. I could be an hour late and no one would know that I was late. This could work out in my favor.
"Actually, we're going to take a small detour." I say. I'm really in the mood for some ice-cream right now. As weird as it might sound, I always crave dessert late at night.
"Going to kill someone?" He inquires. I scoff lightly and shook my head, as if he could see me.
"Of course not, I have no idea where you got that idea," I tease. "I'm in the mood for some ice-cream." I tell him.
"Ice-cream? At this time of night, in this weather? Are you out of your mind?" He exclaims like I'm some crazy person.
"You sound like my mother," I conclude.
"Your mother is darling, so I'll take that as a compliment." I see his smirk in the rear view mirror.
"Just take me to Baskin-Robbins," I angrily say. "Let me get my fucking ice-cream." I inwardly scold myself for sounding like a five-year-old. A five-year-old who just so happens to swear like a sailor.
"Remember this interaction when you fall ill," he says as he pulls up to the nearest Baskin-Robbins. I squeal and whip open the door. I walk inside and am marveled by all the choices. It's been too long since I've been inside here. The door bell jingles and I see Thomas walking in, looking pissed. I suppress a smile.
