Callista Genovese never wanted to be part of the family business. She enjoyed the anonymity of being a teacher in a land where she was not the killer queen. But like always, family tends to ruin everything.
Callista was dragged back to New York with...
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The wedding happening in three months spurred Callista into action. She was clueless but she'd figured out that talking about the problem would help her gain some solutions. She walked towards Castor's house in Manhattan after changing her clothes. Fortunately, Thomas had agreed to let her go knowing that Castor would be there.
Sometimes it unnerved her how Thomas trusted her life to Castor Luciano. But in the end, she was too content to lose her tail that she ignored her mind's queries.
"Cas!" she called out. Caly ran her teeth over her bottom lip, thinking of where the guy was. She eyed the stairs with the ornate banister leading to the second floor. It was already eight in the morning but it wasn't also the first time that Castor woke up late.
"Stop right there!"
Caly angled her head to the right, ignoring the crawling annoyance that slithered to her tanned skin. She eyed the guy, noticing his nose ring and the mess of dark curls on his hair.
And the gun that was pointed at her.
She couldn't believe her luck for finding herself at the end of the gun again. However, she tried to be understanding. A member of the Luciano crime family not knowing her was unheard of. So she guessed that he was recently a made man. "I'm Callista Genovese."
Like a soldier, he straightened his form and lowered his gun. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down, lost in words for what happened. "I'm... How do I know you're telling the truth?"
"You don't," she answered. "But I think you know that your boss can handle a little girl like me, right?"
The man frowned. "Well..."
Caly flicked her hand, brushing off his uneasiness and strolled upstairs. Three years later and she still knew every nook and cranny of this mansion. Castor's house was the party center during their school days. She had slept over many times, helping him clean up because obviously, he was shit with those things.
An empty room met Callista but she heard the beats of running water against the tiled floor. Her metallic eyes gazed at the strewn bed sheets, the unopened curtains, and the lighted lamps.
She sighed, stepping on the black rugs and parted the dark curtains. To say that Castor Luciano loved black was an understatement.
"Woah! My eyes are hurting!"
Caly rolled her eyes, spinning on her heels to face him. He was dripping wet, a towel on his hips. "You're welcome."
Castor turned off the lights before marching to his walk-in closet. He emerged a few seconds later, buttoning his faded pants and a white shirt hanging on his shoulder. His other arm held a towel, drying his hair. "You need something?"
Callista was quiet for a while. She was busy raking her eyes all over her best friend's lean body. His damp hair leaving drops of water on his shoulders, sliding down to his hard stomach. The ink on his muscled chest made her fingers itch.
