Standing in front of her father, with her head way bent on the back to look at him, it's only now that I realize how tiny Mia is. And sweet at the same time.

And Benito is a completely different man when he is with his daughter. He doesn't seem so tough and scary anymore but rather an ordinary man, melted to his cores and with eyes shining like millions of stars of the universe just by having her in front of him, holding her tiny hands and his and kissing her fingers.

Unwillingly the scene unfolding in front of my eyes suddenly brings to me the thought of being a father, although I have never thought about it before.

No, I'm wrong. I have actually always avoided the possibility of being a father or the thought of ever wanting to be one.

But as crazy as it might sound, seeing Benito with his daughter surprisingly makes me wish to be a father one day, and thinking that being one as Benito makes the wish stronger.

And don't ask me how but I feel that this little sweet woman, although stubborn and reckless sometimes, would make a great mother.

While I'm wandering with my mind to probabilities that have no growing right now, Benito still tries to make her change her mind, and guess what?

The woman I have wanted so much to know for the silly romance stories she writes proves to be not only smart, sexy, ravishing beautiful but also stubborn to my luck, she keeps saying no.

"You take good care of my daughter, kid," Benito tells me when he realizes changing her mind is motion impossible.

"Stop calling me kid," I mumble but what the hell?! I like it.

"Don't have reasons not to," I reply and he gives his daughter one more hug before exiting the living room and my mansion.

I remain with Mia both standing in the middle of the living room still staring in the direction of the front door, closer long ago by Benito behind him.

"He's not going to leave town now, is he?" I tell her still staring into that one fixed point on the front door.

"Nope. He isn't," she confirms what I already know, and weirdly we both end to be on the same side.

"Why you never told me... told Fabio whose daughter you are?" I ask her and she turns around landing some watery eyes on my betraying a deep sadness that I don't even know what to do with.

"Why? Would it make any difference in the decision of hiring me?"

"No... for as far as I know Fabio has been one hundred percent sure he wants you for this project but..." I lie.

Fabio has never actually been fully on my side with my plan of going as far as kidnapping the author of the story I'm obsessed with if it would be necessary, but hey, she doesn't have to know details.

The plan works perfectly, why ruin it?

"Then forget whose daughter I am. It's unimportant and non-constructive to consider so I suggest stopping thinking about it, she spits back at me, visibly bothered and adamant to drop the subject.

She twists on her heels and walks about the living room, the speed of her steps speaking volumes.

I run one hand through my hair and sigh, finally capable to inhale deeply and recover the level of oxygen in my brain.

"Besides, you've promised me something today," I hear her saying when she shows up again in the living.

Her pitched voice makes me turn around swiftly and stare back at her like a dumb.

What is she talking about? I think to myself and probably the blank in my eyes gives her the answer.

"Don't tell me you forgot! I have one week free and you better adjust your agenda. I want to have fun!" she orders me like a spoiled brat while walking away and leaving me with mouth agape.

One week?! I don't have one fucking week to give her! I have the dickheads Moroccans to deal with. And her father, fucking great Don Enzo.

"Don't you dare cancel it!" she shouts from upstairs and I should have my blood boiling by now, knowing myself and never accepting orders from others.

Surprisingly and unconsciously my hand travels to the phone in my inside pocket and I dial Fabio's number while walking out on the patio where I know for sure she'll not hear me.

"He took her?" Fabio asks the mine the picks up.

"How the fuck you didn't know who she was?!" I hiss through the phone and Fabio laughs loudly.

"Who the fuck could expect that? They don't carry the same name. And the way Benito lost his tracks in the past fifteen years, it would have been impossible to find that out."

"You know I have an unfinished business with Benito. And now... this woman...," now my blood is boiling. I feel so much better to be myself again.

"It's not you with an unfinished business, Raffa. It was your father who was not much of a father throwing you to your grandparents on your mother's side. Grow up, Raffa! I've seen the way you look at her," he speaks the obvious, the one that I stubbornly try to deny.

"Shut the fuck up!" I reply not meaning it.

"Hey, I'm your boss. Did you forget? Now, I, the boss, gave Emillia one week off. Make the best of it," he says and hangs up.

"The fuck is with everybody ordering me around?!" I mumble unhappily to myself while staring at the phone and trying to swallow that Fabio has really hung up in my face.

"You're not ready!" I hear Emillia shouting from behind and I twist on my heels not being very sure what she means.

I never intended to change my outfit. Change it with what? Damn, what the hell was in my mind when proposing this stupid beach walk.

"I am," I reply very confidently.

"This is not an outfit for the beach, Raffa! Have you ever actually been to the beach?" she asks squinting her eyes and shifting her lollipops to the opposite corner of her lips.

Right! That's it. I don't remember ever being at the beach. Even as a kid I used to wander on the golden sand in the sun's burning rays cursing in my mind and going Nanna would take too long swimming.

And I never let her change my outfits if she insisted on shorts and t-shirts. I don't think I have ever worn those staff.

Emillia puffs and rushes her steps toward me, fetching my hand and pulling me back into the house with a strength that nobody could have imagined such a frail girl could have.

"You need something short and flip-flops. And a t-shirt. You won't even be able to walk on the sand with those fancy shoes of yours," she kept talking dragging me after her up the stairs.

Why on earth do I become so soft when she's around? She's sweet... gentle... cute... I don't even know which one to pick and her childish way of making me not only smile but hardly control my heart, swelling gracefully in my chest with some kind of joy that melts the very serious and impetuous self.

I'm having a lot of new and mixed feelings since she came but the best are the very ones I'm experiencing right now.

I'm feeling joy and worry at the same time. I long to be around her and let myself dive into her cheerful spirit and immediately after I regret wanting that. I wish her to be far from my bleak perilous life and everything around me which matches her in no possible way.

I want her far and safe and then immediately after I become selfish and wish to never lose her.

I should have known better than to bring her here. I should have known that I'll in trouble from the moment I saw those big amber eyes in the pictures and felt that if I had her I would own the world.

Now my world becomes her peril and this thought becomes an icicle in my heart which I better get used to.

Before we reach upstairs (she still speaks God knows what) I squeeze her hand that drags me after her and feel with the thumb of my finger the softness of her skin and guess what? She stops talking.

For the love of God, now I know how to stop her from this much talking.

"Which one?" she says.

"Which one what?"

"Which one is your room? I need to get into your closet."

"Ah," I say feeling safe and sure that she'll never find what she's looking for in my wardrobe.

"This one," I say pointing to the door on our right.

"Perfect!" she yelps and losing my hand, she walks in through the door and after searching a bit around she discovers the walk-in closet.

I shove my hands into the pockets of my very fucking expensive Italian suit and follow her lazily, so damn relaxed.

"Got it!" she shouts and my heart stops. Got it what?! What is she talking about?

"Yellow pants which you will fold three times to make them shorter, this beautiful white shirt with rolled up sleeves and... flip flops... we need flip flops..." she mumbles searching around and struggling to find something to look like...

"Yes! These!" she says victoriously and picks my shower slippers from the floor.

"No way! I'm not wearing that," I reject the thought of making a fool of myself.

I've already made the plan. I'll wait for her in the car while she has her beach walk. I need to update myself on Fabio's progress anyway.

"Yes, you will," she replies convinced I'm probably like her father, soft and powerless when it comes to her and she grabs my hand again pulling me toward an armchair where she temporally drops my new outfit and tries to help take my jacket off.

"Emillia, stop..." I mumble hoping she'll give up this stupid idea.

But she doesn't. Instead, she smiles and her smile hurts like an open wound in the heart because I know myself. I become stupid and mischievous in the most improper moments.

"Emillia, stop, for fuck sake!"

There I go. There the fuck I go, becoming stupid and harsh when all she wants is just fucking walk on the beach, not one of my kidneys.

"Just..." I try to sweeten a moment that I gracefully fucked up.

She freezes in her spot, gluing her eyes on me while I can tell she still tries to understand if I mean it.

And the motherfucker me grabs the opportunity to shift the situation from a weird one to a better one.

"I just can't understand why I can't wear what I fucking usually wear..." I talk to myself while taking off my jacket and then the shirt placing them gently on a hanger and then on the special stand for clothes that I have in each ever house I own.

I can't even hear her breathing and I don't dare look at her. I know I've hurt her and I don't think I'm ready to find disappointment in her beautiful honey eyes.

So, I grab my insanely expensive yellow pants and try to figure out how the fuck do I rolls up an Alexander Amosu.

But I do it anyway, in the walk-in closet, away from her eyes to avoid embarrassment.

Before I walk back in I take a look at myself in the mirror. So fucking awkward to see myself wearing folded-up pants till below my knees, a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves and half unbuttoned.

Knowing I can't make it better than this I show up again in the bedroom searching for Emillia whom I find sitting on the bed with her hands dropped on her lap and head lowered and her cheerfulness broken.

"Hm..." I clear my throat, the best silly way to draw her attention. "I guess... I'm ready now," I whisper running the back of my neck with one hand.

"I don't feel to go anymore," she informs and her words infuriate me faster than the speed of light.

"What did you say?! What the fuck did you say?!" I roar unable to control myself and walk fast toward her, reaching the bed in just two huge leaps.

Her eyes widen and her lips quiver when I unleash my anger and still mumbles those words again as if saying them once hasn't thrown me over the limits of my patience already.

"I... don't... feel like going anymore," she says holding high my stare like a spoiled child.

"Oh, you better bring your fucking mood back because I haven't made a fool of myself for nothing," I spit back and grab her waist with one arm, throwing her over my right shoulder with a silent groan of pain that still bothers me.

"Raffa! Raffa put me down!" she shouts and giggles while trying to get off my shoulder, and the stronger she fights, the tighter I hold her, infatuated by this unexpected chance of feeling her body so close to mine.

I choose to ignore her pleas of letting her go and walk out of the room and then down the stairs, smiling cockily and quite happy with myself and my success in bringing back her lively mood.

"Stay still or you'll fall," I tell her when I feel that the pain in my chest weakens my hold on her, and then I push myself stronger to tighten my grip on her waist.

I walk out to the patio and take the stairs that lead directly to the beach, quite a surprise for my little sparrow who suddenly drops her tantrums.

A new sensation crawls on the skin of my feet when I reach the heated sand and walk through it.

If before I would have shot curses and thunders at everyone, maybe even some bullets for being brought to a situation I'm not familiar with and is not up to my standards, now I have Emillia who seems to have the magical power of taming the devil in me.

"Wow, it's beautiful," she whispers when I finally put her down and she digs her feet into the sand to keep her balance.

She remains rooted to her spot, staring into the vast immensity of the Mediterranean Sea unfolding in front of our eyes in the most beautiful blues that I have ever seen, here or anywhere else.

Or is it so beautiful because she is here? I can't really tell, myself being trapped in Emillia beauty.

"Can we swim?" she asks turning around and running back at me.

I stand there, saying nothing and staring at her, most probably with the dumbest smile on my face trying to understand how the hell can she strip me off of my all defensive shields that nobody has ever reached to scratch even.

"Raffa..." she spells my name like music and her eyes are glued to mine in expectation wearing a wide beautiful smile on her face.

The only response I feel proper right now is a swift reach of my hands from the pockets of one of the most expensive suit pants l, now folded to my knees straight to the back of her neck which I grab strongly and use to pull her close to me.

So close that my lips immediately connect to hers so perfectly as if my mouth has known the way to hers since ever and we both give in to one of the most intense kisses I ever had in my life.

The only sound I get from her is a whimper of surprise when I grab her neck and crashed my mouth on her lips.

I hope it doesn't hurt because the thirst I have for her right now is pure madness unleashed.

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