The moment we finished the unexpectedly ravishing meeting with her at the gala night, the airport was our next destination. We were to take off in no more than two hours.

We were already on the flight and I still couldn't recollect after that moment when I felt heart-stabbed with the most beautiful amber eyes I'd ever seen, landing straight on me as if she knew I intentionally hid in the darkest corner and she decided to show me that no matter how much of gangster guy you were, there would always be that one person to become the weak spot of your entire imperium, mind, and power, and if that spot, the sweetest of all, ever disappears your entire world is gone and yourself done deal with.

How did I know that? I didn't. Never had such a weak spot before. Until she walked through that door and filled the room with the scent of her sweet-bitter perfume and my chest with a void that I hardly managed to overcome.

Everything disappeared around us from that one first looks. Time, space, gravity, and any known and unknown law of physics stopped existing when she looked at me. And smiled. She had no idea she smiled and I struggled with every fiber in me not to smile back.

Not yet.

The longer it took to have her answer the proposal, the more anxious I became, and had to stop myself a few good times from asking Fabio to call her.

In fact, I spoke nothing from the moment she exited the conference room till we arrived on the flight because if I did nothing good would come out of my mouth.

I was stressed, and unsettled. Seeing her in some damn pictures was one thing, absolutely mesmerizing, don't even go to debate it.

But in person, breathing the same air with me, between the same walls and under the same roof she was a whole different kind of magic.

One could never take his eyes off her once she was in his vision, could not think straight or even understand if he was still alive or had left this world.

And I was no different.

Beyond the fucking sharp noise in my ears, I could hear the entire discussion and I couldn't understand how Fabio was so optimistic about it because... we should have insisted on a reply on the spot. We should have forced for a reply on the spot.

I'm not happy! I'm not happy, alright? I shouldn't go back home empty-handed, but Fabio...

Before I can go through with my thoughts, I hear Fabio's phone buzzing and snap my head towards him giving him a deadly stare which I hope will teach him a lesson.

"Yeah," he replies ignoring me completely then curls a corner of his lips showing off a great deal of contentment. "Perfect!" he continues and hangs up, shoving the phone into the inside pocket of his jacket.

Instead of violence and curses, I choose to keep quiet and wait till this little motherfucker kid decides to speak. Happily, the waiting is short.

"We'll, seems you have your little writer slash architect in the palm of your hand."

I nod a few times but keep the same straight face. Men like me don't let themselves be overwhelmed with emotions.

But inside storms fight for dominance, satisfaction sticks in my throat and is suffocating, flashes of her face roll in front of my eyes, and fear settles in.

I stopped giving in to fear a long time ago and practiced until mastered it. Fear is something that weakens your actions, gives cracked doors to emotions, and losses that lead to suffering. The ration is what I go by and my heart is made of stone.

So I thought.

Because out of the blue here comes a short woman, gold brown haired and amber eyes woman turning my world exactly upside down with a damn mafia romance story that hooked me like I'm a teenager and look which seems right now I can kill for.

"Good," I mumble only and turn my eyes back to the window on my right side, jolting with joy but showing no emotions.

I doubt Fabio doesn't feel me. He knows me inside-out and this silence and waiting he offers me till I'm ready to talk is exactly what I love about him.

"So, is it the project in Paris or Cannes for her?" he asks.

I curl my lips down, giving it a thought and suddenly I feel a strong desire to see the beach and the sea.

So, Cannes it is.

"Cannes. Feels more like a vacation than work. You never know, maybe she'll be writing more than designing," I reply with a smirk.

With no questions asked, Fabio pulls his phone again and dials his assistant.

"Ciao Ale. I'm going to send you a passport copy. I need a one-way flight ticket from San Francisco to Cannes. First class. Tonight or tomorrow morning at max. Once you have it, send it to me. Grazie, cara." (Thank you, dear).

"We fly directly to Cannes," I say.

I want to be there when she arrives. Besides, Cannes is less dangerous than Paris right now.

At what point has everything gone fucking south? Shipment lost, Moroccans don't trust me anymore (that's something fucking new to me), the murderer of my father proves to be the exact opposite to the stories I've been told, I'm fucking knocked down by shitty third-hand mafia story and I find out that the writer is a fucking gorgeous woman who, from this moment on, I'm not planning to lose from my site.

And strangely enough, this alchemy wrapping my life on multiple levels and from different sides has woken up in me an energy that I haven't felt for a long time.

And I can't say I don't like it, actually, it makes me feel alive.

I'm not the kind of man to stay stuck with a woman multiple times. I fuck, I leave. I fucking only my choice and they know that once the show is done, she is done as well.

Yeah, of course, I had clingy women and they were lucky if I was in a good mood and chose to leave first.

But Emillia... she doesn't seem easy to get. She's not the type of woman I'm used to either and truth be told, I have no idea how to be around a woman like her.

But one thing I know for sure. I want to be around her, it almost feels like a need for me from the moment I saw her in the pictures the first time and she fixed me from one of them with her honey-like eyes.

It was as if the entire kindness of the world gathered in that look and now she was showering me with its warmth, unbearable kindness, almost suffocating to watch but definitely mesmerizing.

Three glasses of dry scotch knocked me out for the rest of the trip. I was exhausted and I needed a damn shower although I was not sure if that would fade the smell of Benito's blood that could still taste.

While my eyes were closing I counted no less than nineteen hours without sleep. Not the only time of course, but surely the first time to forget about sleeping just to meet a woman, without thinking about the eventuality of being deceived, disappointed, or wasting my time.

As if I knew I was going to meet the one.

I slept the entire flight.

A light touch on my shoulder wakes me up and I hardly open my eyes just to see the airplane rolling on the runway and immediately I realize we are in Cannes.

"How long until she lands?" I ask Fabio while rubbing my palms on my face to wake up.

"She's landing at 3:50 pm," the reply comes.

"Perfect! Time enough to refresh and eat," I say and stand up walking past Fabio toward the exit.

I've never been more grateful for having the cars ready at the runway the way I am right now. Believe it or not, I still smell Benito's blood in my nose as if the event has happened an hour ago.

My brain is jammed between thoughts of Benito, the betrayal I've recently experienced, and the Moroccans coming literary after everything connected to me.

And the worse thought of all is the fact that I start to doubt bringing Emillia to Cannes is a good idea. But she's in the way now and I can't send her back.

I don't want to. Before I thought that what I needed was her story to dive in when my brain needs drainage.

Now, I need her. The void that fills my brain when she's around, the emptiness of all stress and worries wrapping me when I lay my eyes on her seem to be my new addiction.

And yeah, I am selfish, never denied it, never tried to hide it and all I have to do now is just increase the security and make sure always someone is watching her.

"Fabio, I need full security around Mia," I found myself thinking out loud while we were on the way to the Cannes mansion.

"Will do my best."

"She'll live at the mansion in Cannes, with me. It's safer and I can watch her," I continue giving no look to Fabio and knowing I doubt the safety of that place just as much as he does.

"I'll make it safe, Raffa. I promise," I hear him saying and the determination in his tone makes me turn my eyes toward him and stare deeply into his chocolate orbs.

Do I sound that desperate? I say confidently that it's only in my mind but the reply comes with no delay.

"No, not desperate. Just... "

"Just what?!" I roar to make him speak his mind. Cazzo, I feel I'm losing my mind. (Fuck).

"In love," he says.

"Ma che cazzo stai parlando?!" I burst into a fake laughter that scares even me less to talk about Fabio whose eyes stare back at me with no emotion. "No... non c'e modo..." I deny it and turn my eyes back to the window. (No... no way).

My phone buzzes with a text message and I fish it out of the inside pocket of my suit jacket and frown my eyebrows seeing Benito's name as a sender.

Kid, are you safely returned to Italy? B

Who the fuck he thinks he is to call me kid?!

"Not your fucking business! You better watch your back! I reply and bury the phone back in my pocket. I hear Fabio smirking which infuriates me as fuck but I don't say anything.

There are too many things I let fly lately and this is not me but it feels like wasted energy, no matter how much my brain says do it, my heart doesn't flinch and lets it slide.

I took a nap immediately after arriving at the mansion and making sure Mia's apartment is prepared.

A good nap, a cold shower, and a good lunch have put me back on my feet and my always motherfucking self.

I see Fabio crossing the living room towards the exit just as I'm walking down the stairs.

"Ready?" I ask.

"Yeah. She's landing in an hour and I have to be there before she exits the airport. What about you?"

"I have a thing to do."

"A thing?! What thing?"

"A thing," I reply and turn a blunt look towards him.

"And that "thing" needs you to attend alone?"

"Yeah..." I reply.

Cazzo, I'm the worst at lying! (Fuck).

"At least take two guys with you, Raffa. I don't know yet if Moroccans are here or not. Just..."

I walk past him, ignoring his worry and touching his lips with my index in a flirting joke to distract not his attention from the matter but my anxiety about having her in my home starting tonight.

"Oh, vaffanculo, testa di cazzo," he replies bothered and convinced that he won't make me change my mind. (Oh, fuck you, dickhead!)

I laugh loudly and fully exiting the mansion and walking to my black RSX where the driver is already waiting.

"I'll go alone," I say and the driver conforms immediately, passing time the key and opening the driver's door.

I missed driving my sports devil and I always take a few rounds when I come here, all alone, insanely speeding and challenging my fate.

Speeding increases my adrenaline till my ears pop and it helps me think, most of the time taking the best decisions but this time speeding takes me straight to the airport.

I want to be there when Fabio arrives and picks her up, watching from afar.

Why from afar? The fuck if I know!
Seeing her a few evenings ago stirred up the most intimidating moods that I wasn't even aware I could feel.

She weakens me, shifts my steel cold me into something I'm not used to and no matter how much I try to ignore it, she keeps pulling me towards her, I just can't control it.

Her amber eyes quench my thirst for beauty and peace because during the storms she unleashes in my chest when being around, a peaceful but addictive need nests inside of me.

Fucking pussy I'm becoming, I smirk to myself enjoying this feeling of a total surrendering to Mia... my Mia who already lives in my brain.

Half an hour later, after a 220km speed ride around Cannes, I reach the airport of Nice and park my car in a strategic spot where I won't be seen but allows me a good enough view of the exit.

People walk in and out and I feel like an outsider, nobody knowing the turmoil I dive in, the anxiety of seeing her again and having her in my house.

I don't even care what will come of it because I know that I get what I want. I always have and always will.

My phone buzzes with a text message and I catch my cigar between my teeth while I pull it out being sure it's Fabio but again, I see Benito contacting me.

"Don't meet the Moroccans. I'll deal with them. B"

Now, who the fuck he thinks he is trying to meddle with my businesses! Fucking prick! I mumble while intending to press the call button and push back his unrequested help but I see Fabio's car parking in front of the airport's access and put the phone away.

I see him getting out of the car and leaning against it while waiting for Mia to show up.

And she did, the fucking shock I did not expect.

The elegant woman I'd seen a few days back is now a sportish little young woman, wearing some wide colorful pants and an open-shoulder green t-shirt, no make-up but with amber eyes still shining like gems and curly hair gathered on the top of her head in a messy bun.

Breathtaking, if I am to be fully honest and I have to enchant every fiber in myself to restrain me from getting out and fetching her myself.

She smiles widely and freely like a child when seeing Fabio, still holding a damn lollipop in the corner of her fleshy lips.

My blood boils when seeing Fabio stretching an arm around her back while inviting her to get in his car and her traveling bags are put in the trunk by the driver.

I know I shouldn't feel this way. For fuck sake, this is Fabio, my brother and he knows how I feel about Mia, but hey, seems this little woman starts wrapping me around her fingers.

I burn the engine of my car when I see Fabio's in motion but before leaving my spot I see another car, a black SUV with tinted windows driving in the back of Fabio, glued to its back.

I pull out my phone in a rush and dial his number.

"You have a tail in your back, Fabio," I tell him immediately after he picks up.

"Figlio di puttana, sapevo che saresti stato qui," he replies mockingly and in a whisper.

Why would he whisper? It's not like she speaks Italian or something!

"I know. I've seen them even before arriving at the airport. It's good you're not with us, although I believe they're sure you're in here," he replies.

"Just..." I want to curse him. I want to shout at him for acting so leisurely.

I'm not in the car with them but they have Mia. That's even more important for me.

"Just drive to Nice and check in at Damian's, in Le Negresco. He'll know to give you an apartment and call security for backup. I'll distract our new friends."

"Raffa, no! We don't know who they are!" he tries to make me change my mind and before he succeeds, because he always does, I hung up and speed my car to drive in the same line as the black SUV, rolling down my window and leisurely sticking out my left hand holding the cigar.

~~~~~
Dear Reader, thank you for being here. 🤗