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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Isabella drops to her hands and takes heavy breaths. I walk a slow, agonizing pace around her, thinking of what to do to her. This woman has caused so much trouble for my business. Stealing money, even killing one of my men. I want this to end in a bloodshed and trust me, my blood won't even hit the exposed air.
"You... wouldn't," she repeats on a gasp. She lifts herself off the pavement, the wall supporting her weight. She shrugs off her jacket accidentally, causing her gun to drop. Before she could swiftly grab it back into her possession, I bring my foot to it and kick it away.
I walk two steps, looking slightly down at her. I trace my tiny fingers against her bruised jawline. There's an open cut on her cheek, red dripping down and onto my finger. I saunter my finger down to her bust, wiping the blood off in the process.
"That's a shame," I pout, "you had such a beautiful face." I whisper as I harshly grasp her chin. She gasps and looks up at me with her big doey eyes. "You made a big mistake, didn't you, princess? Did you really think messing with my business wouldn't come back to bite you in the ass?" The rhetorical question leaves me lips, needing no response. I bring my gun up, tangling it in her long brown hair. I'm no where near done with her yet, but she doesn't have to know that.
We hear the backdoor open. I assume it's a drunk disorderly, stumbling their way to the wrong exit.
"Alora!" I hear a familiar voice yell. Puzzled, I turn to meet his gaze. Mistakingly, I focus all my attention onto Salvatore. He looks distraught, face feigning concern. His glowing figure, illuminated by a street light, stands out harshly against the black night. I furrow my eyebrows. Why was he yelling for me? Better question yet: Why does he look so distraught? His face is pale, as if he's seen a ghost. Suddenly, I felt a cold rush of wind pick up and hit my front side.
"What a pleasure it was befriending you, Avi. Hope we can catch up soon!" I turn to see Isabella hop inside a black SUV. In a blink of an eye, she was gone. I stuff my gun back inside its holster, furious beyond measure. I had one single job to do tonight, yet I got distracted and she was able to slip away. Fucking hell.
I underestimated her.
"Fuck, I'm so sorry. I—" Salvatore begins to apologize. I hold up my left index finger, suggesting for him to shut up. I look up at him. His forehead ceases, his mouth is slightly parted and he's panting.
I try my hardest not to burst out with anger. My blood is boiling, to the point where if he speaks again, I might fucking lose it.
"Alor-" He doesn't even have the chance to finish saying my name before a grenade sets off inside of me. The magnitude of my anger is unbearable and unprecedented. I have never wanted a kill so badly, not until she came along. I had her, right at the tips of my fingers, but one measly distraction costed me the most satisfying assassination of my career.
"One job! You had one fucking job to do! Stay inside with that fucking dude! Why?! Why the fuck did you have to come outside?! She was right here! Right fucking here, Salvatore!" I scream at the top of my lungs, blood rushing to my face. My throat is going to hate me tomorrow. "I had her, right on the tips of my fingers! I - you - let her get away! Fucking distracting me! What was that?!"
