Early morning while I was having my breakfast, Marco barged into my room to inform me they had a meeting tonight with a South African mob, their associate, mainly for transporting materials.

To say it surprised me was an understatement. Elio's been avoiding me way more effectively than me for the past four days. The two times I saw him after calling Ruby, he was beyond pissy. I even tried to find out what was wrong, but he wouldn't budge, so I gave up on my third try.

Fuck him for acting like a stupid bipolar teenager. 

My day turns into a whirlwind of things that need to be done. The same woman from the previous time returns with a new collection of clothes, filling up over half of the walk-in closet. She helped—more like forced—me to choose a dress.

But I'm not complaining. The green knee-length dress is the same color as my eyes and it hugs my body perfectly while the right side of the dress's hem is split up to my mid-thigh. The silk fabric is soft against my skin and the V neckline held up with thin straps makes my neck appear longer.

She twirls my auburn hair into a loose updo, resting at the back of my neck while a few strands hang around my face. The emerald drop earrings brush my skin with each movement of my head, and the platinum bracelet decorated with diamonds is loosely set on my wrist. I feel pretty. And a small part of me is curious about Elio's reaction.

I survey my reflection, glimpsing the confident prosecutor criminals face in the courtroom. Tonight, I'll be needing that.

I saunter down the hallway, and carefully descend the steps, once more grateful Slava still hasn't returned from Moscow. 

At the bottom of the staircase, Elio, clad in a basil green suit, is standing, looking dangerously breathtaking while adjusting his sleeve.

I inhale a sharp breath and tighten my hold on the railing.

His chestnut eyes land on me. His gaze travels up and down my body, fast the first time around and tantalizingly slow the next, as though he can devour me just with his burning scrutiny.

He holds out his arm for me and I accept it without a beat of hesitance or even a second thought like it's natural to lock my arm with his. I fight against every cell in my body, urging me to glance at his striking face. 

The driver opens the door for me and I slide into the car. A few seconds later, Elio joins from the other side.

The car smoothly sets into motion. I look out of the black-tinted window, paying no heed to my pounding heart and his overwhelming cologne scent dazing me.

Lengthy minutes stretch past us in utter silence.

"The plan worked," he speaks to me for the first time in the past four days.

Surprised, my head whirls around. He's staring out of his side of the window. I patiently wait for him to go on.

He sighs and gives in, facing me. "Gianni is in prison right now... the trial is going to take place in about a month from now."

Once again, we fall into the suffocating quietude. I can't tell why his silence bothers me so much. Perhaps I've gotten too used to arguing with his annoying ass. I drum my fingers on my knees and gather my courage.

"Is something wrong?" I ask, bravely meeting his eyes.

He stares at me for a beat. "No. Is there something supposed to be wrong?"

I purse my lips and glare at him. "You're acting weird... in fact, you've been acting like this ever since that phone call. What's wrong?"

He lifts a shoulder and turns to gaze out of the window.

"Elio."

His head whirls to me. "What?" he snaps

"I asked you something," I grumble.

"And I'm not obliged to answer you."

Glowering at him, I straighten myself on the seat. "You are! You cannot treat me so poorly when I've done nothing wrong."

He scoffs, "You have a very long list of things you've done wrong."

I fist my hand. "Maybe, but what ticked you off? I have a right to know."

He clenches his jaw, causing the sharp angles of his jawline to appear more defined. "Nothing," he mutters.

"Asshole," I breathe out and turn to the window.

Not three seconds later, Elio questions, "Who's Caleb?"

I wave my index finger at him. "I'll not let you drag him into this mess."

His gaze hardens. "Of course, because he's a good guy and needs to be protected just because he's a fucking prosecu-"

I sharply cut him off. "You said you won't blackmail me with my friends!"

"And I'm not!" he yells.

I huff and cross my arms. "Then why do you ask?"

He sets his eyes ahead, fisting and unclenching his hands a few times. "Because I asked you if there's a man in your life and the way answered, led me to believe there is none," he mutters through gritted teeth.

"And why this concerns you?" I arch an eyebrow at him, waiting for a reply that never comes.

The tension in the small area of the car doesn't go away. Not even when Elio returns to glaring out of the window.

Just as I give up, he speaks again. "That guy's not good for you."

A disbelieved, breathy laugh tumbles out of my mouth. "How'd you know that? Why would I even listen to you? This entire thing is none of your business."

"How serious are you with him?" he inquires after a long while.

Rolling my eyes, I answer, "There's nothing between us."

His lips press into a thin white line. "But you want it to change."

I shrug and meet his gaze. For a beat, my mind goes blank as I get lost in his deep brown eyes.

"He's not a good man," he quietly adds.

My face pinches together with annoyance. I open my mouth to argue, but he doesn't let me.

"I know you're going to say I'm the last person who should decide who's good or bad, but I know that man..." his voice trails down and he looks away, shaking his head. "Never mind," he sighs and slumps into his seat.

My brows furrow with confusion. I'm half tempted to probe him to continue.

After a long while, the car halts in front of a pristine hotel and we climb out. The white building is gigantic and has over ten stories. Windows are dotted around it and the light seeping through them gives a magical aura to it.

Elio holds out his arm for me as I round the car. Together we ascend the steps to enter the hotel.

The interior is even grander than the exterior. Gigantic chandeliers hang from the ceiling, splaying brightness across the area. The white marble floor is spotless and reflects not only the light but our reflections, too. Though the volume of the chattering is too loud. I easily set tourists apart just from how they amble around the place.

A few of the workers greet Elio with the utmost respect, leaving me to wonder if he owns this place.

The closer I inspect the place, multiple odd things stand out for me. Such as rigid men standing at every corner, some whispering into their earpieces. I even catch a few of them furtively glancing at us. It doesn't help over half of the ones behaving so peculiarly are dark-skinned, planting the idea they might be from the South African mob.

My fingers instinctively tighten on Elio's bicep. Elio's gaze pierces through me, but I refuse to look away from the men who might be carrying weapons of all sorts.

The restaurant comes into view and Elio's warm hand lands on my hand locked around his arm, surprising me.

He leans down to me, whispering in my ear, "Relax." His hot breath fans my skin, causing goosebumps. My breath hitches, but I nod nonetheless.

As we reach the entrance of the restaurant, I halt. He quizzically glances at me, and I pull him out of the entrance's way and stand a few paces away, out of other's sight. 

Slightly tilting my head to one side, I lock my eyes with his. "Since we're going on a meeting and we should have a clear head... I just want us to be on the same page."

He inhales sharply and looks away, busying himself with surveying the place.

"Elio, what's about Caleb that bothers you so much? And why do you even care?"

He clenches his jaw. His Adam's apple bobs as he shoves his hands into his pockets, avoiding me. "I don't."

I frown.

He huffs an irritated sigh. "I just wish you wouldn't let job titles blind you, and you'd put everyone under the same magnifying glass you put the criminals under. The people around you aren't better than us, yet you can't see it. That jackass isn't a decent guy, he's not good for you."

I dare another step towards him, craning my neck. "Elio, look at me."

He purses his mouth and hesitantly drops his focus on my face.

"Even for a moment I assume you're right and he's bad, why is it-"

He interrupts me. "You like him, don't you? You're serious about him, aren't you?" The intensity of his gaze weakens my knees. "That's why you avoided me for three days," he accuses softly... as though he's hurt. Is he?

My heart pounds in my chest, and hundreds of knots tie and untie in my stomach. For a fleeting second, his gaze falls to my lips, lingering long enough to make my skin tingle, and my breath hitches before he captures my eyes.

"I-I don't know," I stutter, and blink a few times. "Even if for an impossible moment, I believe you're right about him-"

He cuts me off, "I have proof, I can show you, but I'm sure you won't believe that either." A bitter smile arches his mouth.

I nibble my bottom and drop my attention to the floor. "For a long time, I used to like him, but there's nothing between us." I bravely meet his intense eyes. "Nothing at all."

He silently studies me for a long moment. I add, "Yes, he's a prosecutor, but I won't ever betray you for him or help him come after you and your business. I made a deal with you, remember?"

He frowns.

"Time will prove to you I'm not lying." A small smile tugs at my lips as I decide to include, "If not, you can always kill me."

For the first time in the past four days, his features soften and he shakes his head, huffing a half-hearted breathy laugh. My heart has the audacity to skip a beat as overwhelming relief floods me.

Rolling his shoulders back, he says, "Let's go." His arm stretches out around my waist to lead me ahead, but I stop him.

"Elio, do you trust them?" I whisper.

His brows furrow. "Why?"

I lift a shoulder and survey the place again, catching one of the men steadily staring at us until getting caught and instantly looking away. "They're acting a little sus," I mumble.

He turns to follow the direction I'm looking at. "So far they've been loyal, but don't worry, my men are everywhere."

Hesitantly, I nod. My gaze falls on his slightly askew collar and before I can think any better, my hand shoots out and straightens the corner of his dark green, almost black, button-up shirt.

A second too late, I realize what I'm doing. My cheeks flare up and I pull my hand back, averting my gaze. "S-sorry," I mumble.

Elio's arm tightens around my waist. My heart pounds harder as he leans down to me, bringing his mouth next to my ear. "Thank you, tesorino," he huskily says.

I forget how to breathe as my heart skips a beat.

"And did I tell you how exquisitely ravishing you look tonight?" His lips lightly brush my earlobe.

My face grows even warmer, though a shiver slips down my spine. He lifts my chin, forcing me to meet his heated gaze.

"As long as you're with me, nothing will happen to you. Stop worrying."

Feebly, I nod. I wish he didn't have this effect on me.

Not wasting another second, he leads me into the restaurant.

Rapidly blinking, I clear my hazy mind and scan the area. The place is a mixture of white, red, and golden colors. In the far corner, about half a dozen armed men are standing in a circle. Three of them have black skin, probably South African, and the other three are olive-skinned... Italian, perhaps.

They part for us. A few feet away sit two men, one donning a maroon suit and the other deep violet. They get to their feet and first greet Elio, then proceed to greet me with a brief handshake and a not-so-brief leering.

I can't bring myself to be bothered by the ogling, because a voice in the back of my head's screaming it won't be the worst thing happening tonight. The smugness on these two men's faces isn't helping either. Elio's calmness is more jarring than easing.

We sit across from each other, Elio taking the seat on my right.

Both men have buzz cuts and a lot of their features, like their wide noses, round black eyes, and mouths, appear similar. The only difference is, the guy in the violet suit is slightly slimmer and his hair has streaks of grey in it, along with some small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes.

My fingers fidget with my bracelet as a waiter fills our glasses with red wine.

Elio says something along the lines of Sicily's famous wine.

From the corner of my eye, I spot two men clad in black entering the restaurant, choosing a booth across from ours. A bulge on his side becomes more evident. The long shape unmistakably belongs to a rifle.

My palms grow clammy and my gaze darts from one side of the place to another. Three other men choose a table, two booths away from the first duo.

Elio's large hand grabs my fidgeting fingers, snapping me out of my anxious observations. The warmth of his palm is oddly calming as he envelopes my hands without looking at me.

Gingerly I glance at the side of his face, tracing his sharp jawline with my eyes, noting how with ease he's listening to the man in the violet suit talk about his stay so far in Palermo, as though he's entirely immersed in what he's saying, nodding at all the right times.

He stealthily fishes out his phone from his trousers' pocket, keeping his phone well out of sight under the table, he unlocks it with one hand, and types down a word without looking away from the man. He shows me the screen.

Relax.

I free my right hand from his grasp and take his phone and type as quickly as I can.

Armed men are entering here, are they your men?

He glances down, as though he's looking at his glass of wine but in reality, reading what I've written.

His face goes blank and he gives a slight shake of his head.

The movement is enough to act as an entire bucket of iced water being poured over my head.

We're fucked.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

Sorry this chapter was a little slow, but hey! They made up (well kinda xD). But brace yourself, because tomorrow's chapter is going to be action-packed ^^

Thank you for reading this chapter, I hope you enjoyed it, vote if you did, and comment your thoughts!

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡