I drum the tips of my fingers together, pondering over what to ask from Elio. The longer I think, it dawns on me how much I don't know about him... and how badly I want to know everything.

It's unjustified. I shouldn't be interested in him as a person but rather focusing on his works... yet whatever question crosses my mind isn't even close to the 'p' of professionalism.

I shift and gaze at him as he patiently waits for me. A strand of his dark brown hair lies on his forehead and his body is facing me. If I dare to allow my eyes to venture a bit downwards, I can easily observe the details of the heart tattoo with the barbed wire around it, and bleeding gashes with flame arising from the top of it.

I inhale sharply and start with the one question that has been the longest on my mind. "Tell me why you're so fluent in English and barely have any accent?" I quirk an eyebrow, training my eyes on his face with tremendous concentration. The last thing I want is for him to catch me scrutinizing his tattoos, and his amazingly well-sculpted chest.

A corner of his mouth lifts. "That, I cannot answer."

I frown as my lip puckers.

A warm smile stretches his full lips as he leans to me slightly. "For now, all I can tell you is... I studied in an international boarding school."

Oh. "Every level?"

"Middle school onwards."

My eyes widen. "Can you read and write in Italian?"

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Of course, I can tesorino."

"Was it hard? Staying at a boarding school?"

"I liked it back there." He studies me.

My brows slowly pull together. "You were away from the mafia, its drama, and everything while you were a kid... wasn't it hard to get adjusted to this life?"

"It's not like I had a choice," he mumbles, twirling a loose strand of my hair, slipped out of the braid, around his finger.

I look at him long enough until he raises his gaze from my hair around his finger and meets my eyes. I shift on my spot, unintentionally moving closer to him as I try to position my head on the pillow in a way it'll be easier to watch him.

"If you had a choice, would you still have chosen this life?" My voice comes out softer than a whisper.

He sighs and glances away. The little humor sparking his eyes and brightening his features dim away. "There's no point in considering an impossible alternative."

"You don't like being a capo?"

"It's my duty. The matter of liking or disliking has no place in it. Some truths can't be avoided or changed and the sooner the person learns to accept them, the better."

"That sucks," I mumble, settling on staring at the edge of the painting hanging on the wall across from me. "Not having a choice."

"I'm sorry I've taken away yours too," he murmurs, and our eyes lock. The intensity of his gaze makes my heart race.

In a featherlight touch, his fingertips brush the side of my forehead, pushing the strand he was playing with away. "A pure soul like you shouldn't be amongst blackened and evil souls like me." His fingertips travel down the side of my face and my breath hitches as my heart skips a beat. "But it's life, and who are we to question the path fate leads us on?" His smooth, velvety voice seeps into me. 

It's frightening how dangerously different he can be, it's too easy to forget his vicious side. I can't trust myself around him.

I like to believe, right at this moment, we're inside a bubble setting us apart from the real world. Where we can easily forget he's a monstrous capo and I'm a prosecutor. Just for tonight. And if I speak a tone louder, the bubble will burst, and nothing can save us from the onslaught of reality.

"Do you believe in fate?" I ask.

"Some matters are out of our control; I like to believe something named fate is driving us through a paved path." A small smile tugs the corner of his mouth; his fingers slide down my cheek and my eyes shut, my breaths rushing in and out of my parted lips. "But it doesn't stop me from wondering how things could've differed if we'd met under other circumstances."

I sigh and meet his smoldering gaze. "I still can't believe you're the same man who did all those things tonight," I admit.

His brows draw together and he solemnly nods. "I had to."

"I know," I breathe out. If he hadn't, we'd be dead. A long moment of silence trickles past us. "Is killing hard, for the first time?"

Elio releases a slow, deep breath, slightly sliding down to come closer to my eye level. "For the first time... if given the right motivation, no. After a while, pulling the trigger becomes as easy as lifting a pen."

I nibble my bottom lip and study the details of the crown's tattoo in the middle of his chest, right above the outline of his six-pack abs. "Did you have the right motive?"

I wait for his response, but it never comes. I glance at his face. Even though he's looking at my hands, his mind is far away. "Elio?" I softly call out.

He blinks and turns to me. "I did."

"What-"

He interrupts me, "Not tonight, Cerise."

"Why not? I know we won't ever get the chance to talk like this again."

He forces a corner of his mouth into a small smile. "I thought you've had enough of violence for one day."

"Seeing, yes. Hearing about it, no, I can keep up with more."

He shakes his head along with a half-hearted chuckle. I arch an eyebrow, waiting for him.

His focus latches on me and he begins, "The first man I killed had taken the life of someone close to me."

Curious, I frown while I fiddle with my necklace. "Who?"

His gaze drops to my hand before jumping back up to my face. He opens his mouth but, I quickly add, "Tell me all the details, please."

He forces a smile and nods. "In the first week of classes, in college, I met someone... and we instantly clicked. She knew I was Italian-"

"Obviously, not that hard to guess with your name," I say, smiling.

His features soften. "Yeah, the name exactly. Everything moved ahead like two normal people-"

I cut him off and ask, "Didn't she know you're the Luigi Mariano's son? A mafioso."

Pressing his lips to a thin line, he shakes his head no. "She thought I came from a well-off Italian family... old money."

I laugh. "Well, technically you are old money, just the wrong type of money."

He chuckles. "Are you going to keep on interrupting me at every point?"

"If you'll be more detailed, no."

He stares at me with disbelief, maybe even fake annoyance, but the smile threatening to spill across his features acts against him. "She had no clue. She used to think this entire setup of Cosa Nostra is a thing in the past... and I thought maybe it can stay that way." The little humor dissipates from his face.

The sadness marring his face, pulling his features downwards, slacking his expression, and dulling his eyes squeezes my heart painfully.

Even though I've been noticing he's using past tense for this girl, I don't dare to let my mind conclude the meaning behind it.

"You know, staying away from Sicily and... Cosa Nostra, for so long, gave me the illusion it's limited to here, that I can stay away from it, as long as I want. I was convinced it can never reach me." His mouth sets in a straight line, his Adam's apple bobs, and he fixes his gaze on my fingers fidgeting with the pendant.

Heaving a sigh, he goes on, "But I was wrong. After my dad was killed, things changed... either I had to become the capo or Pietro's father. My mom knew the Russian side of our clan would never agree to take orders from my uncle, so she took the lead while Pietro's father prepared me to become a capo."

I watch him silently, how the walls surrounding him slowly crumble to the ground, showing a battered man. "Elio." My hand falls away from my necklace and creeps to his.

Half expecting he'd move away, he surprises me by lacing his fingers with mine. The back of his hand faces me as he twirls our hands, studying mine as I admire the details of the tattoos etched to his skin. I resist the urge of tracing them with my other hand while relishing the sense of his skin against mine and how easily our hands fit together.

"I should've told her the truth. I should've warned her of the danger... but I was too arrogant, the son of a man who was nothing less than a king in Cosa Nostra... on top of that, I didn't know their ways." His voice grows lower as he watches our locked hands.

"I was out with friends... a group from the rivaling clan attacked and killed her, and my uncle."

My eyes widen.

"The first man I killed was the guy who killed her. It started from there. I wanted to see them die, and I wanted to see it with my own eyes. I kept going up the ranks, wiping out each one of them. Until it reached Cosca's capo. We raided their house, I killed them. Now they're just a name in the long list of dead people in Cosa Nostra."

My mouth stays agape. After a long beat, he meets my bulging eyes.

"House?" I echo with disbelief.

He presses his mouth into a thin line and pulls his hand away from me as he nods. "Yes, their house."

"You didn't-" I hesitantly start, but he cuts me off.

"I did." He looks away. "I killed his wife, his son... anyone who had that surname or was in any way related to them."

Too shocked, I can't bring my muscles to move, to scoot away from him. "B-but t-that day... t-the first night, you told me you don't-"

"I had to prove myself. That night I officially became the Mariano clan's capo. Everyone feared me... I had to show them what I'll do if anyone dares to go against me. I made my footing and once I knew not a man would dare to oppose me, I set my new rules."

I run my hand over my neck. "How could you?"

He keeps his gaze fixed on the wall across from us. "I've always told you, you're right. I'm a monster. Letting one person live would have risked another fight later on... it had to be done." His voice turns blank. A mask devoid of emotion falls on his face.

We fall silent for a lengthy time.

"I can't imagine you killing a kid," I mumble and study his features. "Elio," I call out, making him turn to me. "You didn't, right?"

"No, one of my men did it." He shoves his hand through his hair. "I can still see the kid's face when Franco shot him..." he whispers, his voice breaking. He raises his eyebrows and points at himself. "I'm the bad guy, remember? Anything's possible from me."

I razor my lips between my teeth. "You wiped out an entire mafia because their boss ordered to kill your girlfriend?"

He nods.

"Did you love her?" I ask quietly, fearing his reaction but needing to confirm my forming theories.

"At that age, with the mindset I had... yeah, I loved her."

Our eyes lock, and the burning intensity in his gaze blanks my head for a beat. "I'm sorry you lost her."

He sighs and slides down, resting his head on the pillow and looking up at the ceiling.

I can't help but wonder his motive behind trying so hard to keep me alive, is related to his guilt for failing to do the same for the girl he loved.

"Will you do the same to Fabris?" I cautiously ask.

"I have to, or else not only him, but every other clan will try to attack us."

I bite my bottom lip as another blanket of quietude falls over us.

"Are you afraid of me?" he asks.

I tuck a strand of my hair behind my ear. "You can be frightening at times."

Elio faces me. Timidly, his hand lies on my palm, his gaze captures mine. The warmth of his touch spreads across my body, making every fiber in me buzz. Once he ensures I'm not retreating, he comes closer to me. "Do you truly despise me?" his voice is barely a whisper.

I search his face; the desperation underlying his quiet tone clenches my heart. "I should," I mumble.

"I know I'm an awful man, but I won't ever be bad to you." Hesitantly, in a featherlight touch, his hand travels up my arm.

"Would you still kill if it didn't prevent your imminent death?"

"Never."

Killing for Elio is a survival necessity. He's right, I set people like him apart from normal people, never listening to their explanations and reasons. "I'm sorry you don't have a choice either."

The corner of his lips twitches upwards as his hand traces the side of my face, from my temple down to my cheek. My heart flutters and my insides grow warm.

If he's as monstrous as I've convinced myself to be, he wouldn't duel on the face of a kid his men killed.

"Elio?"

He hums, twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers.

"Were Pietro and Marco with you on that... mission?"

"Pietro was, but not Marco."

My brows furrow. "Why not?"

"Gunshot sounds make him uncomfortable."

I gape at him. "What? In your line of work-"

"He's the best for the behind-the-scenes." He lifts a shoulder, his gaze sweeping over my face.

I curiously watch him. "Can I know why?"

"His father was killed with a gunshot... in front of him... he was eight."

I gasp and he grimly nods, his eyes boring into me in a way as though there's more to it but he's not uttering them.

"How about we don't talk about death and killing for the rest of the night?" Elio suggests.

I blink and nod. "Yes, please!"

He chuckles, his hand dropping to my necklace. Gently, he lifts it, inspecting the shape of my pendant. "Why do you always have it on?"

"It was my mom's," I pause as he glances at me. "Well, it was my grandmother's... she gave it to my mom when she left for college, and my mom gave it to me after her divorce from my dad."

"So she always stays close to you?" He lifts an eyebrow.

"Something like that, to give me strength whenever I'm in desperate need of it."

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit."

I roll my eyes and he lets the pendant fall back on my chest as he meets my gaze. "I'm serious. You're still sane. Even after knowing everything, you don't back down from threatening men who can kill you with just a flick of their wrists. Sure it's dumb, but courageous too."

I giggle. "Wow, you're really incapable of complimenting."

He laughs. "I'm being honest. I thought you're all about honesty."

A smile lingers on his mouth as his index finger brings my chin higher up. "But if compliments are what you're looking for, then let me tell you, your eyes are mesmerizing, the sound of your laugh is angelic, just like how pure your heart is. I've seen no one put a case together so expertly, and I've never come across anyone as daring as you. The way you handle your job is astounding for someone with your age and experience. But most of all, how good a person you've stayed is a phenomenon."

I gape at him. Heat rushes to my cheeks and I look away, but Elio comes even closer. His hot breath fans my lips, and his thumb brushes my cheek before stopping just on the edge of my lips. My heart races and every cell in my body comes to life, thrumming with giddy excitement.

In a deep voice, he continues, "Now, tesornio, do you want me to go on? Or should I save some for the next time?"

I force myself to break free from the daze and roll my eyes. "All I can tell you is, you're a certified flirt on top of everything else."

He chuckles lightly, but once I glance up, his gaze locks with mine. The longer I look into his deep chestnut eyes, the harder it is to return to reality.

"I wish things were different between us," he murmurs. The pad of his thumb lightly draws over my bottom lip, tingling my skin. My heart skips a beat as butterflies erupt in my stomach. "But it's only a foolish wish," he breathes out.

My eyes close, heart pounding with anticipation. Elio leans toward me, our noses brush, and my fingers curl around his forearm.

We stay frozen for a long moment before he sighs and pulls away. The disappointment's jab shocks me, but I shove it away.

This is all so damn wrong, yet I enjoy his touch, regardless of how wrong it is. I can't get enough of it, and it scares the hell out of me.

He runs his hand over my hair. "Go to sleep, tesorino, you need the rest."

But all I can do is watch him as he gazes up at the ceiling, heaving another sigh.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, because I sure enjoyed writing it xD I mean, come on, Cerise is learning to understand him, and he was being vulnerable in front of her! These are good steps =)

Do you guys think Cerise's guess about Elio keeping her alive because of his guilt is right?

Thank you so much for reading, don't forget to vote if you enjoyed it and comment your thoughts! =)

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡