The men barely paid her any mind once she was seated beside her client.

In fact, only one of the client's had spared her a glance, saying, "È sicuro parlare di fronte a lei?"

To which he'd replied, "Non parla Italiano."

And that was that.

They'd continued to converse in Italian, and once in a while he spared her a glance, then went back to talking.

Elodie wasn't sure what she was expecting but it wasn't this; being ignored like an inconsequential side-piece. It was as though she wasn't here at all.

Her fingers itched to reach for the work phone in her purse just to have something to toy with, but she kept her hands folded in her lap, and kept her gaze on the occupants of the ground floor.

Some women were openly making out with their male companions now, hands roaming and tongues tangling, and it was so filthy that she had to look away, only that she chose to settle her gaze on her client and found that he was already watching her with that shrewd gaze of his.

Her throat went dry for no reason at all.

"I must be boring you," he said, ignoring that his companions were still seated across from them.

Elodie cleared her throat quietly, cursing how dry it'd become. "No, of course not."

He inclined his head slightly to the right, eyes roaming all over her face as if he could see beneath her mask. "My business partners have brought an issue that needs to be solved before me, and I must respond accordingly."

"I understand."

"I'll wrap things up soon, but in the meantime, would you like a drink?"

"Yes, please."

His irises darkened so suddenly that Elodie swallowed a gasp from the intensity. Instead of replying, he raised a hand, and one of those waiters she'd seen earlier appeared at the entrance of the alcove, head bowed, fingers clasped in front of him.

"Boss?" He asked.

"Bring the lady a bottle of Veuve Clicqout," he commanded.

"Right away, sir."

Then he switched back to Italian and began to converse with his partners, ignoring her existence once more. But he did tell her to give him more time to wrap up his business.

He must be very important, though, seeing how he seemed to conmand any and everything. She also noticed how each person was careful not to look him in the eye as if he was some type of royalty.

He might as well have been, seeing how Boss took to protecting his name and image. Elodie had been sent in blind, and with strict instructions. So far, she'd managed not to fumble.

The waiter returned with a bottle of the requested wine in an ice bucket and a clean wine glass, then poured her drink before leaving, all the while keeping his gaze down. He wouldn't even meet her gaze.

Elodie reached for the glass and took a deep gulp, surprised by the burst of flavours on her tongue. The wine tasted like heaven, and smelled like a million bucks.

"Virginia Russo told me that she'd be getting the new shipments next week," one of his companions suddenly switched to English, startling Elodie into meeting his eyes.

He was already watching her, and she quickly dropped her own gaze to her glass, unnerved by the cold, bottomless eyes.

She felt her client shift beside her, before he said, "I'll look into it. She's knows she's to pay her dues, though, Dario."

Dario sighed heavily, mouth twisting into a frown. "What are you going to do about Luca?"

"I'll take care of him, so don't worry."

"We'll be taking our leave then, boss," this speaker had a deep voice. He was the one sat the in the middle of the other partners; he was wearing a tiger shaped mask.

The Boss— she might as well start referring to him as such—nodded. "Very well."

The men got to their feet, bowed, then left without so much as a nod in her direction. Some Italian men thought women were beneath them, so it didn't come as a surprise to her that she was being treated this way.

Besides, wasn't it all better that way?

The lesser they knew her, the more anonymity she gained.

And didn't they just talk about guns?

"I'll be taking you to some places tonight," The Boss was saying, eyes on the floor below. "Whatever it is you see or hear, you must keep it to yourself or there'll be consequences."

Briefly, the feeling of despair came over her, but his next words pulled her from the haze.

"What's your name?"

Elodie kept her eyes on her glass, throat going dry once more, and this time, it had nothing to do with attraction. "I'm called Angel E."

"Look at me."

Once again, Elodie found herself looking into those powerful orbs, heart galloping away in her chest as her palms began to sweat even though the room was cold.

"What's your full name?"

"Elodie," she told him, watching as he leaned into her space, leaving barely a hairs-breadth between them.

"Elodie," he repeated.

Her name on his tongue sounded so foreign, as though it was the first time she was hearing it. His tongue caressed the vowels and smoothed over the consonants like butter on toast, and she found herself leaning back a bit.

"For the duration of our time together, you're to call me Angelo."

Elodie's tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. "Yes. Angelo."

His pupils dilated, and they turned into a darker shade of gold that glittered like the desert sand on a hot day. Her own pulse began to race because he looked every bit as dangerous in that minute.

Suddenly, he got to his feet. "Come with me."

Elodie placed her glass on the stone table and got up as he'd ordered.

Once they stepped out of the alcove side by side, three large men in dark suits fell into step behind them; each of them had a dark wired earbud in each ear and were wearing dark sunglasses.

She came to the conclusion that they must be his guards once they were going down the stairs leading to the ground floor. Eyes followed their movements to the door, and soon they were walking toward a steel elevator that she hadn't noticed on her way in.

One of his bodyguard, the one sporting shaved hair, stepped forward to hit the call button, and the door slid open immediately. Another one stepped into the car, head swinging from side to side as though he was looking for a target, then he stepped back out.

"Please go in, Boss."

Angelo entered the car, and she did the same, coming to stand beside him. The guards started to follow them, but  stopped when he snapped, "Take the next one."

Shaved head frowned, but he kept quiet.

Elodie's body was tensed when the door slid close. He hit the button for the garage and the car began to descend slowly.

Suddenly, without any warning, Angelo caged her against the wall and sealed his mouth over hers as though the world was coming to an end.

When was the last time she made out with someone—aside from that one time in high school when he boyfriend of the time had taken her to prom? Elodie struggled to recall, but her mind that had been so clear a minute ago, felt suddenly cloudy, only that it wasn't with trepidation this time.

The rough stroke of Angelo's tongue tangling with hers and the hot breaths fanning across her cheeks were all too consuming sensations. He trailed his down her sides, slipping beneath the slit of her dress and settling on the flesh beneath.

Angelo tasted like strong liquor and something a little bit bitter,  maybe a dark roast coffee blend, and Elodie found herself chasing after the flavor. He smelled fantastic too, the brine of ocean spray and moss.

The kiss was a thousand times better than her high school kiss though—that one was filled with lots of spits and tongues, but this one was a controlled dance of seduction. One that had her stomach clenching, and heart pumping.

Fingers ghosted over the top of her thighs, heading towards her panties, and Elodie pressed her hand against the center of his chest, breaking away from the kiss.

"What's the rush?" She asked, breathy and not all that convincing. Her eyes scanned the camera mounted at the top of the elevator, which was pointed directly at them.

"They know better than to watch," he said, not taking his eyes off hers but knowing what she was staring at. "But you're right." He pulled away from her, straightening the lapels of his jacket, jaw clenching. "I have all the time to do as I wish with you."

Goosebumps littered her exposed arms, and her face began to fill with heat as colour climbed up from her neck and into her cheeks.

She should be afraid of his promise, she knew, but somehow, she was excited by it. What did that say about her?

The elevator came to a stop, and the door peeled back to admit them into an underground garage where a dark SUV was already waiting. Two men in suits flanked both sides of the car, one of them holding the passenger door open, eyes hidden by sunglasses.

Elodie was helped in to the car by the guard, and Angelo climbed in beside her after issuing a rapid fire of Italian command.

The guard bowed before shutting the door, and going to climb into the front seat of the car where he was joined by the other guard. Then, the car began to move, gliding out of the curved garage and passing through a security boot where the guard stood ramrod straight as they passed and onto the brightly lit road.

She turned her head to look outside of the car, watching as buildings and cars whizzed by.

Angelo sat back, looking like he had no care in the world. "Get me the phone in the glove compartment."

The guard not driving reached into the compartment and withdrew an old flip phone, and handed it to him without a word.

Angelo flipped it open, punched in a few keys and pressed the receiver to his ear. "I'm on my way," he said to the recipient on the other end. "Get him ready for me."

Then, he clicked it off, and handed it over to the guard with a strict instruction to burn it later.

Their drive took over an hour, and Elodie watched as Angelo worked on his laptop and a stack of documents— balance sheets, inventory, and contracts, which he didn't bother to shield from her gaze—occasionally jotting something down on a fancy notepad with a Fulgor Nocturnus pen; it was crafted with black diamonds that glittered in the car's dim light.

Soon, their car rolled to a stop at a marina, and Elodie could see several yatchs docked and bobbing in the bay.

Despite having heard about it, this was the first time she was visiting the bay, and when she stepped out of the car, salt water and ocean breeze filled her nostrils, and Elodie took several breath to soak it all in. It reminded her very much of Angelo.

Speaking of, Angelo had already packed away his sheaves of papers and laptop, and he handed the bag to the guard from the front seat.

He turned to her, holding out a hand. "Come."

Elodie slipped her hand into his, and let him lead her down the marina and onto the largest yatch she'd ever seen, compared to the ones docked few feet away from it, that is.

She was surprised to see that there were people already aboard the yatch; three dark haired women dressed in red uniforms, two men wearing a white sailors uniform, and three other additional men in suits wearing severe expressions. They were all bent at the waist, eyes cast down as Angelo came to a stop before them.

"Welcome aboard, Capo," The older looking sailor greeted.

"You may rise," Angelo told them.

They all stood to their full heights, back rigid, as each of them met his gaze.

"Elodie," he said. "These are the people we'll be sailing with."

"Welcome aboard, Signora," the man who'd spoken before, said. "I'm Alessio, the captain. And this is Roman, my co-captain. If you need anything, please don't be afraid to ask."

"Thank you," Elodie replied. It was surreal, being treated liked she was some type of royalty that is.

Who exactly was this man to command so much respect and attention?

And why did they call him that: capo?

Had she stumbled into some type of undercover drugs operations she wasn't supposed to? Why would boss send her to meet with a man that could potentially be dangerous?

"We leave in an hour," Angelo told Alessio who nodded before excusing himself and his co-captain.

The attendants also left quietly, not bothering to introduce themselves, and they were left with the other three men who looked like they didn't want to be here.

"Capo, Lo abbiamo nel seminterrato," one of the men said. He was a bald man with undecipherable tattoos crawling up the left side of his face. His face was bare of any facial hair, too.

"It's okay to speak freely, Bones," Angelo told the man who'd spoken coldly. "Where's Rocco?"

"He's with the prisoner," Bones replied, eyes darting briefly to Elodie. "Should I have Eyes escort the signora to your cabin?"

Angelo met her gaze, lips pressing into a thin line. "Go with them."

Elodie was strangely befret when he released his hold on her hand, and buried his hands in the pockets of his slacks.

Eyes—a man with full neatly trimmed dark hair and no facial hair—broke away from his rank and took a step toward her, bowing his head. "Come with me, please."

As if she had a choice.

But before she could follow him, Angelo clamped a hand down on her wrist and waited until she met his gaze before saying, "No matter what you hear, do not come out of the cabin."

"I won't."

He nodded once, then released her.

As she went with Eyes, Elodie wondered what he would be doing that would cause her to want to investigate.

In the end, she decided that it was none of her business.

A/N:

Okay, I know nothing much have happened so far, barring the kiss between the MCs. But, we shall see.

Fair warning though, do not proceed with this story if blood makes you squirm, or if violence isn't your Forte.

You've been warned.

Meanwhile, what do we think of our characters so far?

Do you think she'd obey his orders?

Don't forget to vote, comment and share ❤️