The place is packed even though the sun has just set. The music is too loud. I can sense the beats on my skin. Elio's fingers tighten around my palm. I look away from the dance floor and the bar on the other side.

He scans the area, and his features harden. Something's wrong. However, I fail to spot anything.

He leads me up a set of stairs in the corner, two men are stationed at the foot of it, and from their rigid bodies, and hands clasped in front of them, it's evident they're armed.

A chill crawls down my spine and I have to remind myself, I've faced these kinds of people more than I can count. Sure, I was under the protection of the law, flanked by officers, but I'm the Cersei of the courtroom, the prosecutor every criminal dreads to have their case handled by.

I push my shoulders back as we climb up the stairs and I focus on my breathing. A single sign of weakness from my side can be disastrous. 

We reach the top of the stairs. Ten armed men are standing in front of a door. Half of them nod to Elio as one of them opens the door for us.

Inside is dimly lit, a combination of black, red, and purple. Dangerous and alluring. An atmosphere fit for a gangster. One side of the room is entirely glass, giving the privilege of overlooking the dance floor, while the other side is covered with a maroon-red velvet curtain. A small fully decked bar is placed in the far back and in the middle of the ceiling a crystal chandelier glides down, its beads glint under the red and purple lights.

Enzo Esposito gets to his feet and when he turns to greet us, his face is exactly what one would expect a crime lord's to be. Black beady eyes, murder dancing in them, receding hairline, and a black designer's suit with the buttons of his jacket undone, showcasing a black west underneath it. His watch is huge enough to cover his thick wrist and he opens his arms as he walks around the sofa.

Even though the music is fainter here, it doesn't stop the man from literally shouting at top of his lungs, "Ciao amicu mio, come stai?"

If he wasn't smiling, I would've bet he's coming for a kill. They shake hands and he claps Elio's back hard enough if Elio wasn't so tense it would've sent him toppling.

Enzo leers at me from my head to toe. "La famosa procuratrice!"

I stare at him blankly, even though it's not hard to guess his words. The famous prosecutor.

To my horror, he moves to me and I lean away from him, but not far and fast enough to prevent him from greeting me full Italian style. He grabs my shoulders forcing me to stay put; his meaty fingers dig into my shoulder blades as he kisses both of my cheeks. Disgust churns my stomach and bile rises to the back of my throat.

As he pulls away, I'm half tempted to slap him. It's not a good idea though, with over a dozen men standing around the sofa this man was seated on.

"Welcome to Sicilia." He waves his hand.

I arch an eyebrow and fix a hard stare at him.

He says something in Italian to Elio who only nods curtly, and clenches his jaw.

"Eet isa lovely to see the fearrsome prosecutor finally in persona, and see you don'ta look that fearrsome afterr alla."

Plastering a tight smile and holding his gaze with all the hatred I can reflect, I say, "You should see me in the courtroom."

The bastard's smile instantly falls and Elio's head snaps to me, throwing an incredulous look at me.

Esposito forces a harsh laugh but not before glaring at Elio; he returns to his seat, planting himself on the plush sofa and waving at a man standing the closest to him.

"My sona, Gianni." The guy, about the same age as Elio and I, nods at us, a smirk twisting his mouth as he drags his lecherous gaze up and down my frame.

I mask my unease with a glare.

Elio's arm snakes around my waist, pulling me to him. The discomfort and unease vanish too quickly and my heart races. Elio's just like the two other men across from us. A mafioso. Yet, no matter how hard I try, his presence doesn't make me uncomfortable. Dammit.

Elio lifts his free hand, motioning with his index and middle fingers at the man standing next to the bar, before leaning down to my ear. "Can you try to not threaten anyone for one hour?" he whispers and I roll my eyes.

His fingers tighten around my waist and his lips softly brush my earlobe and send an electric jolt through my body, hyper-alerting my senses. "And stay away from Gianni. Don't go anywhere Pietro and I can't reach you instantly." He locks his eyes with mine to emphasize his point.

With a heavy sigh, I nod and he leads me to the couch as a server hurries to him, holding out a tray with two drinks.

Elio inclines his chin to the drink and I shake my head no. He picks up his glass and waves away the guy. We sit across Enzo Esposito, while Gianni stays on his feet. The two capos lean back in their seats and hold each other's gaze in a silent battle trying to assert their dominance. At last, Enzo shifts on his spot and grabs his drink from the black table between us. Elio's gaze sweeps across the place.

Enzo is the first to start talking while Elio in slow and deliberate moves sips his drink. Even though his entire posture seems relaxed, his eyes are hard and his face is devoid of emotion.

Enzo does all the talking, and Elio says one or two words every once in a while. I busy myself with analyzing the setting to feel less useless.

Gianni has to be the underboss or something like that, but whatever his rank is in the Esposito mafia, it prevents him from joining the discussion. Even Pietro is standing a few paces behind us, refraining from speaking his thoughts.

From the way everyone is taking orders from Elio, the place must be his.

Enzo despite appearing at ease a few of his physical ticks such as drumming his fingers on his knees, leaning back and forth in his seat give him away.

With every passing second, I grow more exasperated. I can't remember the last time I've been so useless. I don't understand what they're talking about and all I'm doing is sitting like a goddamned statue, trying to guess some of the words' meanings and ignoring Gianni's constant ogling.

It's been so long since the last time I did something productive, I miss tackling cases and going to the courtroom, gathering and playing around with the evidence in hopes of reaching the best outcome.

This is the longest I've gone without visiting a courtroom ever since I turned seventeen and Dad began sending me off with his friends to their cases so I can prepare myself, learn, and become a good lawyer.

After a long while, Enzo turns to me. "Tella me, how deed yourr alliance forrma?"

"We have common enemies." I look him dead in the eyes.

"So, my guess was righta. Bolda move, I 'ave to say."

Elio goes rigid on my side before saying something in Italian to which Enzo nods again before waving his hands around as he continues talking.

The place falls quiet, save for the faint music coming from downstairs. Elio smoothly speaks, and even though I don't understand the language, the harsh undertone lacing his words can't mean anything except he's threatening the guy.

Enzo forces out a chuckle, just like the way he did to my comment about seeing me in the courtroom, and my suspicions are proven correct. He leans over the armrest and picks up a cigar, lighting it up and commenting on something that Elio only waves his hand to it.

Not a minute later, the curtain on my left is pulled aside as sensual music begins to play, drowning out the one coming from below. Three polls each situated a few feet apart on the stage notify me of what's coming next.

Pole dancing might be nice and can be seen as an art, but witnessing it live while surrounded by creepy men, no thank you.

I raise to my feet just as the dancers saunter to the front of the stage. Elio arches an eyebrow in silent question. I point to the other side of the room, he purses his mouth with disapproval but doesn't stop me.

Did he really expect I'll sit through it all with him? I huff and move my hair behind my shoulder.

Hesitantly, I walk to the left side of the room and observe the dance floor below. Maybe he spotted Esposito's men scattered around the place?

The longer I stare, the more ordinary everything appears until I spot a blond man, way fairer, and taller, than the rest of the people occupying the place. But it's not just his physical appearance, he's staring directly at me as if he knows who I am and what's going on up here. I squint at the guy.

Behind me, everyone is fixated on the women dancing while Pietro is whispering something to Elio.

I return my attention to the dance floor, the exact spot I saw the guy but he's no longer there. I tilt my head in confusion as suspicion bubbles up in me. What if he's not Italian? What if he's Russian? Or maybe he could be someone sent from Dad?

I disregard the last thought, it's highly unlikely. But deep in my heart, a small part of me hopes it'd be correct.

I begin searching the floor thoroughly, the distance isn't helping but I don't give up, until I spot him again, this time, he's talking to a guy, similar in appearance. They both look up and meet my gaze. Through the flashing light and dim lighting of the place, I can't tell if it's my mind playing games or if the second man actually smirks at me.

I nibble on my bottom lip.

My heart thunders in my chest as curiosity grows thicker in me. The logic in my head keeps chanting ignore them but the other half of me can't overlook the possibilities. What if they're here to help? Or perhaps give a clue or something? Clearly, they want to talk to me and not the others, otherwise, they wouldn't have kept staring at me.

On the other hand, if I go alone, I don't have a single clue on how to defend myself in case matters go sideways, but the urge to do something, anything, is killing me.

My legs move of their own accord. I slip out of the room without grabbing anyone's attention. Men and their eyes connected directly to their dicks.

The armed men positioned around the landing don't seem to care I'm leaving. Relieved, I glance over at the dance floor, but can't find the two men. I ignore my anxiously thudding heart and walk straight to the edge of the staircase.

"Cerrise Campbella."

I halt and spin on my spot, my eyes widening when they land on Gianni. Fuck.

He prowls toward me and I inch back toward the other corner of the landing.

"Elio ees lucky," he says.

I gulp with discomfort as he comes closer, his gaze drops to my cleavage one too many times.

"No wonderr why doesn't want to share, hi can't rememberr hif I've seen a hot prosecutorr everr."

I fist my hands and press my lips into a thin line. "You better watch your words."

He chuckles, looking exactly like his father, sending a chill down my spine.

"Heverr conseederred chaging sidesa?"

My back is to the door, now I just have to find the right opportunity to spin and bolt to the door.

"Horr maybe you can be weetha both of usa?" A predatory glint lights up his dark eyes.

Raw fear scraps my insides. Icy sweat breaks out over the nape of my neck. I shouldn't have left the room.

All the rape cases I've seen and read, rush before my eyes in bursts of colors heightening my terror. To my utmost disadvantage, he's the capo's son, none of the men standing here will save me and I probably won't be able to overpower him. I'm thoroughly screwed.

I retreat another step but Gianni omits the little space between us and grabs my wrists. "Wherre do you thinka you're goinga?" he sneers.

Alarmed, I struggle against his hold, even though I want to scream and call for help, no sound leaves my mouth. "L- let me go," I whimper at last, but it's futile. My body trembles and my heart is close to bursting out of my chest. 

He pulls me to himself and I almost cry out in fear. "You hare cominga with me," he snarls and begins to drag me.

A second hand, with the familiar crescent moon on the middle finger and the long rifle on the index finger, grabs my hand, stopping Gianni. The instant relief is staggering.

Elio is holding his gun directly at Gianni's head, the anger burning in his wide eyes is so intense it renders me speechless.

Gianni drops his hand from my wrist and Elio pulls me to himself.

"Lascia cadere la pistola, segaiolo." Gianni holds his hands up and a smug smile slashes across his face.

Elio's face hardens and his hand tightens on me as he clicks the safety pin off. Every man standing in the area draws out their weapons, some point at Elio, and the others hold them at their gunpoint. The door flies open and more men hold each other at gunpoint.

"La tocchi di nuovo e sei morto," Elio growls, ignoring all the firearms directed at him, including Enzo's. He fixes a hard glare on Enzo. "Tuo figlio mi ha mancato di rispetto, spero che tu sappia cosa significa?"

I warily glance between him, Gianni and Enzo, trying to avoid Pietro's angry face, shooting daggers at me while keeping his gun directed at Enzo.

"Te ne pentirai, picciriddu. Non sono Enzo Esposito se non uccido tutti quanti nella cosca Mariano."

"Fai del tuo meglio, bastardo," Elio spits and spins, marching past Gianni and pulling me along with him as he sets down the stairs.

Once down the staircase, he makes a beeline to the back door.

"Elio, I'm-"

"Not now," he snaps, facing me. "One word and I will kill you." He glowers at me. Blazing rage and murder gleam in his dark eyes.

I gulp and clamp my mouth shut. For the first time since I've met him, he's beyond frightening. 

I fucked up.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

Do you guys think she shouldn't have left the room?

Oooh and any thoughts on who those 2 guys might have been?

Any thoughts on Elio's behaviour/reaction by the way? Is he a bit too extreme or not? =D

I know you're probably cussing me for not putting the translations here, but... you're reading this story through Cerise's POV and she has no clue... so you guys shouldn't have any clue either :')

I hope you enjoyed this chapter, don't forget to vote if you did and comment your thoughts.

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡