Seven hours daily, for nine days, I practice with every Beretta model they have. Handling a gun gives me a sense of regaining power and control in my life. I like it.

However, in these sixty-three hours, Marco supervised me and I actively avoided Elio.

Some lines must never be crossed. Including anything between me and Elio.

It's already mortifying I'm attracted to him, but I cannot let things go further.

On a scale from right to wrong, I'm on the extreme of right—or trying to do right—and Elio is on the furthest end of the wrong.

I'm order, he's chaos.

I'm law and he's anarchy—literally!

Anything except hatred and being enemies between us is doomed to disaster.

Yet my traitorous mind misses him and craves his touch.

On the tenth day, we travel on his immaculate private jet to Paris.

For the three-hour-long flight, I review the list of Spanish words and their translations he wrote for me. It reminds me of my struggle back in school, Spanish was one of my most dreaded subjects.

Salazar and Elio will converse in Spanish because Elio's hoping to establish an approachable front to lure him to his side and get what he wants.

Once we land in Paris, a black Rolls Royce drives us to our hotel. The lobby is pristine and breathtaking. They direct us to our suite.

Fabric-covered walls, crystal chandeliers, and French school paintings. White orchids, lilies, and carnations have been arranged in the living room, dining area, both bedrooms, and the expansive office. The porters place my luggage inside the room in the farthest corner, with the perfect view of the Eiffel tower. The other porter takes Elio's luggage to the master bedroom.

Elio's men stand guard in the hallway as he shuts the door.

"They're not coming in?" I ask.

He faces me with surprise. "No." A corner of his mouth quirks up. "You're done with ignoring me?"

I feign shock. "I wasn't ignoring you."

Exaggeratedly slowly, he nods as he strides to me. Elio, with his head-to-toe black attire, is in stark contrast to the light color palette of the room. Somehow, instead of standing out like a sore thumb, he gravitates more attention, appearing even more imposing.

"Perhaps avoiding would be a better word," he offers.

"I wasn't avoiding you."

He raises his brows mockingly. "Really?" He takes another step toward me and I retreat. "You refused to stay one second in the same room as me. Whenever I tried to talk to you, you ran off, just like now."

"I'm not running off, y-you've misunderstood."

He keeps stepping toward me and I continue retreating to maintain a healthy distance until my back hits the window.

He quirks a pointed eyebrow. "You sent Marco to get the notes from me. You didn't even glance at me during the entire time from Sicily to Paris, and the ride from the airport to here. Why are you running from me?"

The sunlight flooding inside the room washes him in a warm golden glow. His chestnut eyes, boring into me, shine like burning topaz. My heart races as I hold his gaze, my skin tingling from the intensity.

I lick my parched lips, and his scalding scrutiny drops to them. "I'm not running from you."

He plants his palm next to my head on the window's glass and leans closer to me. My breath hitches and a corner of his mouth twitches as his eyes glint with mischief. "Your behavior claims something else, tesorino. Is it because you don't want to see me, or is it because you don't trust yourself enough to-"

"Shut up, asshole," I interject, and slip away from him, hurrying to my room.

His hearty chuckle follows me. "Be ready at seven," he says as I shut the door.

I can't wait for this entire flash drive fiasco to be over.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

Sharp seven, I'm ready, in a black cowl-neck mini dress, hugging my body and showing off curves in all the right places. My stilettoes heels are long and sharp enough to be used as a weapon itself.

Elio hands me a Beretta the size of my palm, and I secure it inside my clutch. As much as I hate carrying it, an odd sense of security envelopes me.

The first few minutes of the car ride go by in complete quietude as I gaze at the passing Parisian streets and buildings, until Elio speaks, "I've noticed you're getting closer to Marco."

I turn toward him. "And you have a problem with that?"

He shrugs. "Not exactly. I'm just curious how," he casually says, fixing his focus on me. Even though his gaze keeps raking up and down my body, and one too many times zooming in on my lips.

"Well, maybe you should ask that from him since he tells you everything."

Surprised, he raises his brows. "And who told you that?"

"Marco." I smile at him as he purses his mouth and nods. "Will you help me set Marco up with Pietro?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"In the middle of this mess." He waves his hand around with annoyance. "You want to set up-"

"It's the perfect opportunity to stop Pietro from despising me."

He throws his arms up in exasperation before pushing the button on the armrest of the door. A black divider hides us from the driver. "And if it turns into a mess, then what?"

"I'm willing to take my chances. Marco and Pietro have been arguing a lot because of me. It's not right. I don't want to ruin their chances together."

Elio rolls his eyes and drums his fingers on his knee. "Do you realize how dumb your idea is?"

I frown. "What do you propose? Because if I remember correctly, your underboss hating my guts isn't only a problem for me, but for you too."

He sighs and rubs his temple. "Let's just get done with tonight. We'll think of something."

"Is there going to be... violence?" I hesitantly ask.

He intently watches for a moment before shaking his head. "No. If it gets to that point, I'll get you out of here before it starts."

Fidgeting with my fingers, I nod, strands of my curled auburn hair falling over my shoulder.

The car halts and a man opens the door for me. Carefully, I climb out and scan the picturesque building of the nightclub.

Elio comes next to me and whispers in my ear. "I need to tell you something."

Sudden burst of anxiety churns my stomach. His men slowly get off their cars they were following us with and creating a circle around us.

"After a lot of deliberation, I concluded..." his voice trails down and his gaze sweeps across the street, taking in the pedestrians carrying on their normal lives.

"What?" I press.

"Just don't throw a temper tantrum, okay?" He studies me as my brows furrow.

I eye him suspiciously. "Fine."

"The men in Cosa Nostra are... peculiar, you've probably noticed."

I roll my eyes. Peculiar is an understatement.

"What I'm trying to say is, as long as they see you just as my ally, they'll continue trying to harm you and possibly kill you just to find out why I'm keeping you alive. However, if we portray you as more than just an ally, no one will even dare to think about hurting you."

I tilt my head to the side and squint at him. "More than just an ally?" I echo. 

"The best thing we can do is show everyone, or at least the capos and their sons, you and I are dating. It'll solve over half of our problems."

I open my mouth, my blood boiling, but he raises his index finger and widens his eyes as if silently reminding me I agreed not to shout at him. I clamp my mouth shut and glare at him. Elio has the fucking audacity to smile.

"How dare you!" I whisper shout.

"Think about it, if we pretended to be dating, Gianni never would've dared to touch you."

I gape at him. "No!"

"Why not?"

I throw my arms up. "You're a goddamn criminal and I'm a prosecutor, that's why!"

"You don't practice law in Italy... or France."

"How convenient for you," I say through gritted teeth.

"How come?" He shoves his hand into his pocket and cocks his head, his dark eyes glinting from the nightclub's billboard's lights.

"You know precisely why."

He shakes his head, feigning innocence. "I don't, tesorino... but I understand it'll be too hard for you to be in an even closer proximity with me, pretending to be my significant other, without letting your heart's desires get in the way." He smirks.

My palm itches to slap that damn smirk off his face. "My heart's desire is to kick you in the balls right now." I plaster a smile.

He grins at me, his features lighting up with amusement.

"Don't act like you're not dying to touch me at every chance you get. I told you we have to keep things professional and now you're suggesting-"

"This is strictly professional. It's for your safety."

I glare at him.

"If you don't like it, the car's here to take you back to the hotel," he adds.

"Asshole," I mutter.

He holds out his arm for me. "Shall we?"

I roll my eyes and reluctantly accept his hand, heading into the club.

Unbelievable! Every fucking time he's getting his way. On second thought, maybe I should've kneed him.

The lights are dimmed; the walls are tangerine-colored, and every chair across the place is red velvet, even the floor's carpeting is red. I tighten my fingers around Elio's bicep as my heels sink into the soft carpet.

The upbeat music vibrates every surface and buzzes me up as we go further inside. Seaweed green curtains are drawn across the third archway, hiding whoever's on the other side. Men situated here are armed, and with either Salazar or Elio.

Two bulky men pull the thick velvet curtains apart for us.

Francisco Salazar, in flesh, looks up from his Cuban cigar, his beady obsidian eyes fix on me immediately and a sly smirk slashes his mouth.

Uneasily, I gulp as Elio and Salazar greet each other. I warily note he doesn't even bother to stand up or even straighten his posture.

Armed men are standing against the walls. To my surprise, Pietro hasn't joined. I half expected him to already be here, or at least join us by now.

We sit across from him, with a small round table between us. Salazar takes a puff from his cigar and offers one to Elio, who politely refuses.

"Cerise Campbell," he says, his thick Spanish accent rolling the r of my name harder than necessary. "You don't look like a Campbell," he smugly adds.

"Of course, I don't. The Campbells you've seen so far were men."

He chuckles and waves his cigar as though he liked my answer.

Elio opens his mouth to talk about the flash drives and that they should join forces, but the curtains are pushed aside, halting him.

I bite back my gasp as Hector Rodríguez walks in with two men at his heels. I school my shocked face to a neutral one; Elio tenses beside me.

This was not part of the plan.

Elio's features harden as he nods at Rodríguez. "Hector," he curtly greets him.

"Mariano," he replies, equally clipped, and sits beside Salazar. His brown eyes dart to me and his mouth curls in disgust. "You've brought the bitch too," he spits.

"Veo que también has perdido las dos últimas células cerebrales que te quedaban en funcionamiento," [I see you've also lost the last two working brain cells you had left] Elio shoots coldly.

Not a word from what he said made sense. It wasn't in the list he gave me, except perdido—lost—but lost what?

Damn it.

A satisfied smile twists Salazar's face, showing off his yellowed teeth. "Cálmanse, amigos."

'Calm down my friends' I guess.

Now that I've come prepared, with a shit ton of words memorized, they're going off-script. Just my luck!

Rodríguez's fuming form faces me, his dark skin flushing with rage. "No vamos a tener ningún trato mientras viva esa cabrona." He scowls at Elio. [We're not going to have any deals while that bitch lives.]

My heart anxiously thumps in my chest as I mentally translate his comment.

"Cuidado con lo que dices," [Be careful with what you say] Elio warns in a low voice.

"Let's get down to business," Salazar speaks, his lecherous gaze straying to me, sending unpleasant chills down my spine.

Elio possessively lays his warm palm above my knee, making my skin tingle.

Salazar's brow quirks up in surprise as his eyes dart to Elio's hand. A cunning smirk twists his mouth. "You want your data. We want the prrosecutorr."

"You should be after finding who gathered all of our information and handed it over to a prosecutor, not the prosecutor herself."

Salazar barks a harsh chuckle. "No, chico. Whoeverr put ourr inforrmation in that, is yourr enemy firrst." His eyes snap to me. "Give herr to us, and we'll call it trruce." The words stream out of him like a machine gun on full blast.

"Ella es mía," [She is mine] Elio asserts, his face losing the mask of calm. 

"Eres un tonto como tu padre," [you're a fool like your father] Rodríguez snarls. 

"Una palabra más y borraré tu nombre de la faz de la Tierra," [One more word and I'll wipe your name off the face of the Earth] Elio seethes.

"Mis amigos, cálmate." Salazar raises his palms, quieting Rodríguez before he can say anything. He turns to me with an evil glint in his black eyes. "Arre you with this man?" He inclines at Elio.

"I am."

"Bonito." Salazar nods. "If you don't come with me tonight, I'll have to kill your father and send him to you as a souvenir. Now, you don't want your fatherr to die, do you?"

I freeze. The sudden terror erupting in me doesn't help with coming up with a quick reply. I don't dare glance at Elio. The way the sofa shifts says he's tense and perhaps worried about my answer.

With effort, I calmly respond, "I'd like to see you try."

He snorts. "I thought you'd be smarrterr." He shakes his head. "Do you really think he can prrotect your fatherr frrom me?"

I sit taller and manically smile at him. "Threaten me with my father one more time and I'll chop you into pieces and feed you to your men... or I can make do with execution if I was feeling generous."

A blow of air rushes out of Elio's lips in a suppressed laugh mixed with relief.

Salazar's face tightens with annoyance.

Elio smugly smiles at him, pulling me to his lap. "Told you she's with me." He protectively presses my side to his chest, never taking his eyes off Salazar and Rodríguez as he brushes his lips to my ear.

Goosebumps break out over my skin, as his hot breath tickles my ear. "Thank you," he whispers. His voice so soft, it's barely audible.

Surprised, I glance at him, my stupid heart fluttering.

"Estás complicando las cosas." [you're complicating things] Salazar growls.

Elio's thumb caresses my knee. Up this close, with one of my hands resting on Elio's shoulder and my face so close to his, I can easily admire the sharp angle of his jawline, his thick long lashes, and how beautifully deep his chestnut eyes are.

For a crime lord, Elio is criminally handsome.

Despite the dire situation, my heart races. Being on his lap, his warmth seeping into me, and his intoxicating scent surrounding me are dazing me.

I should be mad at him, but being so close to him feels... nice. Too nice. With one hand still placed on my waist an uncontrollable blaze of desire courses in me.

I'm so engrossed in tracing the outline of his features with my gaze, I miss what Elio says.

"No necesitamos ser enemigos. Dánosla y nos desharemos de quienquiera que haya empezado este espectáculo de mierda," [We don't need to be enemies. Give her to us and we'll get rid of whoever started this shit show.] Salazar replies, abandoning his cigar on the ashtray.

"That bitch-" Rodríguez starts.

Elio harshly cuts him off, "Ella esta conmigo. Insultarla, significa insultarme a mí." [She's with me. Insulting her means insulting me] Elio fixes a death glare at Rodríguez before scowling at Salazar. "Amenazarla significa amenazarme a mí. Tengo que recordarte las consecuencias de amenazar a un Mariano?" [Threatening her means threatening me. Do I have to remind you of the consequences of threatening a Mariano?]

"Mira eso!" Salazar laughs, a bone chilling sound as he claps his hand. "Es esta zorra, tan buena? Muchacho, una coño es una coño. Claro, tiene una cara bonita, pero nada más allá de eso." [Is this bitch so good? Boy, a pussy is a pussy. Sure, she has a pretty face, but nothing beyond that.]

He continues, condescension dripping from each word, "Pero si ella es tan buena, no crees que estás siendo injusto quedándola solo para ti? Disfrutemos de ella también, una noche para mí y una noche para Héctor. Prometemos no arruinar su bonita cara y su coño por ti." [But if she's so good, don't you think you're being unfair by keeping her for yourself? Let us enjoy her too, one night for me and one night for Hector. We promise not to ruin her pretty face and pussy for you]

Rodríguez booms a laugh, nodding and agreeing with whatever Salazar said. My frown deepens with confusion.

Elio's eyes darken with fury. Too distracted with guessing the meaning of Salazar's comment, I don't catch Elio's response.

"Eres un extraño." [you're a stranger] Salazar leans forward. "Si no fuera por la sangre de Luigi corriendo por tus venas, y esa madre rusa tuya, estarías muerto hace mucho tiempo." [If it weren't for Luigi's blood running through your veins, and that Russian mother of yours, you'd be long dead]

Salazar clicks his tongue, as though scolding a kid. "Los sicilianos nunca aceptan a un extraño." [Sicilians never accept a stranger] The rest of the words streaming out of him are too fast for me to catch a single phrase, until he finishes with, "Pero no creas que dudaré en matarla por descubrir tu motivo." [But don't think I'll hesitate to kill her to discover your motive]

A long moment of silence stretches by. Curiously, I study Elio's features.

"No," he says. With a subtle motion of his hand, I raise to my feet a second before he does. "El clan Fenice recordará tus palabras. Cuando llegue mi hora, nada más que cenizas quedará de ti." [The Fenice clan will remember your words. When my time comes, nothing but ashes will be left of you]

The finality in his tone makes me queasy.

The way Salazar and Rodríguez's eyes widen is enough telltale that whatever he said can't be good.

He intertwines our fingers before marching out.

Once we pass the archway, I bombard him with questions, what happened, what they said, and what he said, but they all fall on deaf ears.

He halts in the middle of the club, and I almost run into him. Confused, I frown at him as he turns to me. His gaze travels behind my shoulder, the crease between his brows deepening.

Worried, I shift to turn around, but before I can glimpse anything, Elio grabs my face and crashes his lips on mine.

His domineering lips move against mine, hard and rough. Too shocked, I stay frozen, until my brain slowly starts working, but my body betrays me, and I kiss him back.

His hand stays on my cheek as his other hand slips to my waist, leading me backward. I clutch his shirt with my free hand until my back hits the wall.

Fire ignites in me. It's hard to tell it's from anger or passion. Perhaps both. Half of me wants to slap him as hard as I can, while the other half of me is enjoying his lips a bit too much.

Ever so slowly, his kiss from demanding turns to desperate, molding and moving against my lips agonizingly slow. Elio presses our bodies together and everything disappears. My purse slips from my grasp and my fingers find his hair.

Butterflies flutter in my stomach. Every cell in my body buzzes. My heart pounds harder and faster than the upbeat music vibrating the walls of the nightclub.

He breaks the kiss, panting. His dark eyes search mine. A beat later, my senses come to me. I open my mouth to cuss him out, but he's quicker, whispering against my mouth, "Don't. They're watching."

His words cut my heart into two pieces. Of course.

Stupid stupid stupid.

From the corner of my eye, I glimpse Salazar staring at us.

Pure, unfiltered rage courses through my veins. I never should've let him touch me, let alone kiss me.

Aside from feeling stupid, used, and hurt, I'm beyond furious at him... and myself.

I glower at him. I'll make him pay for this shit.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

They kissed at last! Comment your thoughts on it =)

Any thoughts on Cerise's reaction? For the kiss, and when Salazar threatened her dad?

Thanks for reading! Vote and comment your thoughts! ^.^

The next chapter should be up in 6hrs though =)

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡