A/N

Mariano de Vaio  as Francesco Torricelli 

3rd Person's POV

He woke up with a startle. What a wild dream, he thought. Wilder than his usual ones. And that woman in his dream, oh that woman. That woman who tempted him in ways even he couldn't imagine. He can still feel the sensation of their lips.

It all felt so real.

"Breakfast"

A woman's voice. Like melodious bells on a sweet Sunday morning.

He whipped his head to look at the speaker. To say he was shocked was an understatement. He fell out of his bed, hitting his head on the head board as he did so. In front of him was the woman he had just dreamt of.

Was it even a dream?

She quickly went to his side, and helped him to his feet. Her skin was touching his proving that it was.

Apparently not, he thought, answering his earlier question.

Her warm hands carried him easily like he weighed nothing. She wasn't human, his mind warned him.

Demon.

"Are you okay, master?"

Damn the way she said master was enough to send his senses into overdrive.

He must've forgotten, she thought. The shock on his face and his fall had made that clear. After that little scene last night, the man apparently lost consciousness and fell on a heap on the cold streets. People around didn't care though.

This part of town's too busy to even spare a glance, she need not to cloak them, except for her fall. Aside from a few curious stares, they didn't attract further attention.

Now he was bound to her, as her to him.

They were as one.

She sighed and picked him up effortlessly into her back, as he slumped further into her. She could smell his breath.

Mint and tobacco.

She knew where he lived of course. She watched him for days, waiting for the perfect opportunity to claim his soul.

He searched his body for keys, finding it inside the man's dress coat.

She opened the locks from the other side of his building door and opened it completely, making sure to avoid hitting his head on the door. She finally sat him on the bed, folded the top linens back, put him in, and finally folded it back to engulf the man in comfort.

The man slept like a beast in hibernation.

"It was all real." He mumbled to himself. He unknowingly yawned and got up. He noticed he was in the same clothes as before. What did he expect? She was a protector, not a nanny.

He proceeded to the bathroom, in a haste to look at his face. He remembered the feel of his eyes burning and pondered about it. Finding his bathroom mirror, he tilted his face towards it and found what he was looking for. His eyes were the color of violets from their usual light-blue ones. They had some sort of marking in the middle in bright, neon colors.

A tristar diglon.

"What the f*ck" the man muttered.

He remembered reading an article from an old book at the local library. A book that he can't quite remember the name of. Something about angels and demons, he wasn't sure.

Now this is what you call a contract, he thought, unusually happy.

Somehow, he knew something was coming that day. He felt it in the wind, the way it shifted. Like something, or someone, was bound to come. He was right. Apparently, involving himself in various activities had caused him to be bound and claimed, by the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

He sighed. He should have listened to his gut.

She was both the forbidden fruit and the serpent in the Garden of Eden.

Ah, he needs a cold shower...

He went out from the bathroom, with hair dripping wet. A towel hung low in his hips and his body was still slightly damp after a- hasty shower.

She saw him exit the bathroom. She kept a monotone face and bowed in submission.

"Master" she greeted with a nod.

His eyes strayed to her "We're going somewhere, to settle some things... even..." he started, getting dressed. She didn't mind though, he wasn't hard to look at. All is fine. She had noticed though the three week's worth of stubble that once occupied the man's chin, completely shaved and gone.

Why was she heating up all over?

"Breakfast. We don't want you getting sick" She muttered. Something to distract her from her thoughts.

She didn't sleep last night, but then again she doesn't sleep. She prepared a meal for him early in the morning, rummaging through his kitchen for any ingredients.

She found many to her surprise.

The man cooked for himself, she deducted.

"Giovanni." He had finished buttoning up his polo.

She looked at him and raised her eyebrows questioningly, "I'm Giovanni Dracken." He said clarifying. He put on his pants and shrugged his coat on. "I thought you should know since we're going to be stuck together for quite a while" He just dressed in front of her. He was bound to have some kind of effect on her, he thought. But alas, he doesn't know what runs on that pretty little head of hers.

He wished he knew.

She laughed softly, "I know." she purred.

It was a nice name. It suited him. He looked like a Giovanni, if that made any sense. Especially since his features are so angular and sharp, it was like the gods took their time in sculpting his body. Sharp features, and a strong jaw-line, toned body; not too small, not too big either. Luscious auburn hair.

What more could you ask for?

Sheer perfection.

The only flaw to his face was a small scar running down his thick brow. She's not even sure if it was considered a flaw. She adored men with scars, it showed character, experience and an untold story. Plus, his brow scar was the definition of sexy. It only added masculinity.

"Going to set things even with Carlos?" she asked. She sat crossed-legged on the bed waiting for his reply.

He stopped. "How did you know?" and he wondered. He quickly took it back "Never mind." Of course... She must know everything about him. Might as well know his underwear size too.

She stared at him blankly, later opening her mouth, as if debating where to start. "About that, I've been watching you for more than a week now, knowing all your connections. Your friends, families, love ones." she stopped "Apparently there's none. Aside from a few women if you count them in." she took a minute to continue, unconsciously tapping her manicured fingers in her mouth as if in thought. "But well, your enemies are filling up the brim, apparently."She clucked her tongue, left her place on the bed, and slowly stalked towards him. She remembered to sway her hips in a seductive manner, enjoying the darkened stare she was seeing from him. By now his knuckles had turned whiter than snow, his jaw tense, fighting for control.

"So bad...."she took a dramatic pause "Lucky for you, I like bad" she cooed huskily. She wasn't sure what she was doing, but it felt nice. Like she was in control. She stopped mere inches from his face her breath brushing, lips almost touching. "Giovanni Dracken"

He swallowed a growing lump in his throat. Oh god. If this woman keeps doing this kind of things to him, how could he ever keep his control?

Especially if it bulged in his pants.

F*ck it all, I'm dying anyway!

Just as he planned to close that small distance between them, the little space separating his lips from hers. Oh how he would want a repeat of last night. Never mind the pain, never mind the loss. All that mattered was tasting her sweet lips and feeling it move against his.

The kiss that left him aching. Wanting. Needing.

All that made him a man.

He closed his eyes and waited. He waited for the contact. For the feel of her softness against his pure hardness, but it never came.

He kept his eyes shut.

What was she doing?

He opened his eyes, slowly half expecting her to be mere inches from him. But to his surprise he found no one there inside with him.

He was all alone in his room, and he was idiotically smooching air.

"Motherf- argh!!." He grunted and exited his building, mumbling coherently in his mind.

How could he let his guard down?

God, he was so gullible.

Just plain stupid Giovanni. You f*cking idiot!

You look so stupid kissing yourself...

How could you let her play you like that!?!?

When I get my hands on that woman I'll-

Finally outside, he spotted her leaning on the wall parallel to the front door of his building. Cars honked on the busy streets of New York City as people went on to their busy lives. She casually whistled, her hands inside her cloak pocket. She smiled deviously. She knew what she had done to him, he thought, that woman- when I get my hands on her I'll-

"Lead the way." Was all she said. And just like that, he forgot why he was mad in the first place.

What had she done to him? He was like hypnotized.

He sighed.

He was like a giddy schoolgirl in love. A f*cking lovesick, giddy schoolgirl.

Pathetic.

"It's just around Snide Street." He said, and started walking. He casually cleared his throat to hide his earlier thoughts. Ha! A schoolgirl indeed.

He heard a few clicking of heels, but it vanished after a while. He turned around curiously to look at her. He was half expecting to see her fly with her demon wings. With the way she landed from his penthouse, he was prepared to believe anything.

She wasn't there.

Where the hell is that woman? Was she playing with him again?

I thought she was going to follow?

Then he somehow felt her. He looked up to see her and saw a familiar red head running up high in the buildings. The faint sound of her boot-heels making a clunking sound as it hit the surface above.

Rather effortlessly, if he might add.

"I can deal with this" he said. "This is normal..." he tried to convince himself. "Perfectly normal"

He swore he just felt her smile.

The breeze was cool up-high in the buildings. Cool enough that it made even her porcelain skin shiver early in the morning. A rare instance for a demon like her. Her red, curly locks were behind her. It whipped back as she ran fast and surely. She took a few turns here and there and kept a hawk's eye down towards him. He stopped walking just outside an old, beaten- up storage warehouse. She stopped as well, her hair falling just above her hips. She took a deep breath and exhaled.

This was their hideout? She thought. You'd think they wouldn't be too obvious?

She dropped from the high infrastructure, directly beside him. He jumped a bit but quickly recovered. He still wasn't quite used to people that fell from buildings and cracked the sidewalk. He thought he was. Especially gorgeous women in clasped tight leather-outfits. Focusing on the matter at hand, he faced the warehouse in front of them.

"I just need to talk to them and clear things up with, um, an acquaintance of mine" he said, almost grumbling the last part.

"I'll go with you." she said determinedly, batting her eyelashes every so often it was unnerving him.

"For what?" surely this woman can't protect her. Sure she jumped from a 50 story building without breaking a sweat, but she looks so fragile- like even a small dent and she'll already crack and eventually break.
Besides, it's not like he can't protect himself. He wasn't entirely a weak man after all. Considering that he wasn't entirely man only. He forgot to bring any kind of weaponry though.

That damn woman distracted him.

Still, he wouldn't have lived for 25 years if he was weak. Sad to know he won't be living for long now, with her around. And besides that, once he gets his mission done, he'll have to find a way to escape this damn contract. All this problems keep piling up, he thought as he lightly massaged his growing headache.

"For your protection" she stated in her monotone voice; her face devoid of emotion. It distracted him from his thoughts.

"Listen," he suppressed a laugh deep, inside his chest that was threatening to surface "I can handle myself.". She heard that faint chuckle resounding from his throat.

And it irritated her.

She pulled out a sword from its sheath, behind her back, safely secured, to prove her point. It shone clear in the morning sun. It blinded him for a while and all effort to laugh a while ago, died. He automatically imagined a picture of a long, sharp, sword inside a man's throat and gulped nervously.

He saw her reflection on the sword and her eyes that stared back with cold, calculating eyes.

Goddamn, that sword is sharp.

"Oh I'm sure you can handle yourself, but this- this is for your protection." she repeated. He swallowed again. Now it was her turn to smile.

"Okay?"

"Fine." He confirmed, defeated once again. "Do whatever you want. Bring the f*cking sword for all I care." He muttered with a grunt.

The door creaked as they entered, another clear sign that this place was run-down. A complete trash. They could have at least picked a better hideout, she thought with disgust.

Darkness covered the whole room with only a faint light from the front door illuminating what seem to be used barrels of sea oil, some of it staining the broken tiled floors they were stepping on.

Or even a cleaner one would be better, she whispered to herself.

He soon followed, taking casual strides behind her, as she scanned the area. The sword earlier was now tucked in its place, securely, behind her back. He walked confidently, thinking and debating, whether she can use that sword properly. 

There's nothing to worry about, he concluded. Besides, he could always fight hand-to-hand when push comes to shove.

His eyes suddenly dropped to her back-side while she continued to scan the area.

Damn woman, stop swaying your hips! He grunted, annoyed with himself. Times like these made him regret being a man. Look at that tight, little as-

"Vanni" a voice laced with a heavy Italian accent said "To whom do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he chuckled. It was a deep, velvety sound. Like rubbing stone against marble. The figure slowly emerged from the dark to stand meters in front of them. His features were audible in the faint light reflected from outside the stained windows above them.

The man was, as she presumed, in his mid- twenties. Raven hair and a look of week stubble occupied his chin. He wore a malicious expression on his face and kept a steady gaze directed towards her. It reminded her of drowning with a sea of sharks- how a predator stalks its prey before they swoop in and make the kill.

A slight look of recognition crossed the man's face when he saw Freid, before he turned and shrugged it off. It would've went unnoticed if it weren't for Freid seeing it.

"Hey boys! Look at what Giovanni brought us today!" several men emerged from the dark corners. Some carried steel bars while the others carried a variety of guns. They laughed in unison while others simply grinned and gave small chuckles.

"Men" she rolled her eyes, unimpressed. That little gesture caught the strange man's eye and he smirked.

"Say Vanni, mind if I play with her for a bit?" the man teased while several men mumbled their agreement.

He gritted his teeth and cracked his knuckles. It took him a lot to hold back and avoid punching the living daylight out of him. He doesn't know why, but he felt a strong feeling of protectiveness washing over him.

Why? Even he, was not sure.

"No. She's mine." he managed to grumble out through gritted teeth.

"Ugh... Too bad. You were always so selfish with your- toys, you were never the sharing type." He made a motion to his men and shouted. "Sorry boys! Vanni here is not willing to share!" a few grunts emanated from the men that echoed through the walls.

She was already calculating how many were in there with them. With the amount of mumbled replies and echoed responses, plus the rustles of bars and guns, she presumes there could be at least thirty to thirty–five men.

Easy - peasy.

Although it pissed her to see men mentally unclothing her, especially those old hags, she quickly shrugged it off and cracked her neck from side to side; an acquired mannerism. She went beside him and softly whispered "What do you want to do to them?", she asked with a bored expression.

"I need him." he pointed to the man with a strong Italian accent.

"Besides, what can you do?" he sneered and she gritted her teeth. You have no idea, she thought darkly. He was barely containing his rage all bottled up and the thought of her in another man's arms only added to the bubbling rage inside of him.

What the f*ck is wrong with him?

"Aww come now! Lovers' quarrel? It's very impolite to talk while there are other people in here miei amici!" his heavy Italian accent showing. The other man's gaze travelled from him to her. He took her in. All those angles, curves, hair and skin-

She looked ravishing. Oh yes. Il mio numero di bello~

How that leather outfit hugged her body in all the right places. How her lips parted slightly when he stared at her with his green orbs. And how he imagined her, stripping naked in the dark, making love to him all night long. How long was his last conquest? Too long to even remember!

No matter, he thought scheming, for there will be a new one.

"How rude of me not introduce myself! I am Francesco Torricelli, an acquaintance of Giovanni here." he went to stand in front of her and took her hand to his mouth, and placed a light kiss. "Call me Frances la mia bella." he purred huskily. She shivered at the touch of his cold lips upon her hands. France's skin was ice cold.

Even colder than hers.

She wondered how that was even possible.

Though, she has her theories.

Giovanni cut in, "I need to talk to you, about Carlos.". At this, Francesco's attention was transferred to him, his eyes searching Giovanni's. He dropped her hand almost suddenly and went to stand in front of Giovanni.

"What about him?" he was slightly taller than Giovanni's six- three height.

Giovanni stared briefly at the woman in the leather outfit before shifting his attention back to Frances. "Perhaps, somewhere a little more private?" he inquired.

"I see."

Francesco stopped, and turned to walk towards a separate office in the far corner of the room. "Follow me." he motioned to Giovanni.

He addressed her before leaving, following Francesco "Stay here err-" he struggled for her name.

She whipped her face into his direction and answered "Freid. My name's Freid."

"Freid." How unusual, he thought. He had never heard of a girl named Freid.

"Freid, yes." And he turned, walking away.

She nodded and continued to follow her gaze unto Giovanni's retreating back. They took a sharp turn and vanished completely off sight. She casually took a seat at the nearest barrel and waited. Having nothing to do, she whistled a tune she heard.

Several minutes had already passed and she sighed, bored. What's taking them so damn long? She knew patience was not one of her strong points, but hey, who can blame her? Time works faster for creatures like her.

A loud bang followed by several shouting dispersed into the air. She took a defensive stance, her senses on full alert. She squinted her eyes to enhance her sight around the darkness surrounding her and quickly dashed off to where she saw them vanish earlier. It only took a couple more flight of stairs leading down to what appears to be a basement. She wasted no time upon hearing another loud bang, the sounds getting nearer and nearer until she saw him.

Well paint my face and call me bozo.