Episode 2

I tried to open my eyes, blinking it countless

times, as I felt my senses finally regained. My head ached so much. It felt

like I had drunk my night away and ended up with the major hangover ever the

next day.

But it wasn't exactly a day when I realized as

soon as my eyes completely opened, I was met with darkness. The only light

present were the city lights outside.

I groaned while slowly getting up, pulling

away the softest pillow and the softest quilt. The bed was the most comfortable

I've ever lied on too.

Wait a minute. I stopped rubbing my eyes.

This isn't my room.

A pair of clear water eyes were staring right

at me.

I jumped back from surprise, my back hitting

the headboard. I covered myself with the blanket out of defense mechanism. I

realized later that what I did was in vain. He wasn't moving at all. He stayed

seated on the sofa only a meter beside me. His head was resting on his fingers,

elbow propped up on the armrest of the seat. How the hell did I not notice him

first?

And then I remembered something.

"You destroyed my painting." I spat.

I made sure that my anger was conveyed.

"How much?" He spoke finally. There

I noticed its deepness and masculinity. It was guttural and yet very calm at

the same time.

My head unconsciously tilted to the side,

wondering what he meant.

"I'll pay for it."

"And you think you can afford it?" I

retorted sassily.

He raised an eyebrow. I was surprised that he

wasn't insulted by my retort. "How much, ragazza? Name the price and I

will give it to you." He leaned his elbows on his knees, making him lean

forward towards me. His face was now somewhat visible. The lights from outside

erased some of the shadows. The curves and contour are highlighted.

"Even if you have billions, mister. You

will never be able to afford it." His once calm face was replaced with a

scowl.

"Don't test me."

"I'm only stating the truth. No amount of

money can afford memories."

He replied with a silence. He was staring at

me and I stared back. I wanted to paint his eyes. It was surreal, making my

hands itch to work on a white canvass. I haven’t been in the mood to do that

for a while. Our stares went on for a minute until he decided to break it.

"You know I finally decided on what I'd

do with you." He paused for a moment, letting the space as an opportunity

for me to question him but I didn't. And I just remembered something in

between.

Shit. I forgot that he was a fucking

criminal... and that I saw him killing a man. Fear crept back in my spine.

"You're going to be my *****,

Amore."

---

"Please, please, let me go." My

hands pressed together, praying and begging him to allow me to go out. I hope

my puppy eyes work though.

I kept following him all around his penthouse

until he stopped by the kitchen. He was putting the guns in its holster. I

gulped at the sight. Maybe it's a bad idea to pressure him with my request. One

sound of that can send me to heaven... or hell.

There was a vague smirk on his face before

speaking. "You're quite brave, aren't you?" He leaned against the

counter and crossed his arms. My sight was shifting between him and his guns.

"Please let me go just this time. I'll

behave after that. Please." He didn't answer. He was only looking at me

with no intention of answering my plea. "Look, if I don't go out and sign

those documents then those paintings won't be delivered. No paintings mean no

money. No money means no donation for the kids."

He still kept his silence. The only respond

that I got was him adjusting himself against the counter.

"I'll do whatever you want."

A smirk that holds a lot of plans breaks his

face.

"I'll do whatever you want but nothing

sexual." I added.

"Ah, amore. You have ruined my

plans." My face gave nothing away. I intend to let him know that I am

serious with my decision. "You are my *****. It's only fitting that I do

you like my very own puttana." His fingers brushed my cheeks towards my

lips and chin. His thumb pressed my lower lip. His skin was grazing my teeth.

"I am not your *****." I gritted my

teeth and clenched my fists, holding back my displeasure. He withdrew his hand

and went back to crossing his arms against his chest.

"Were you the one who made those

paintings?" He asked, changing the topic.

"That includes the one that you

destroyed." I scowled at him.

He only chuckled. "You really have the

gall to stand up against me." He pulled away from the counter and stood

straight to face me. His height devoured mine and I ended up looking up at him

and him looking down at me. "Do you even know who I am?"

I replied, not intending to withdraw my glare.

"Someone who deserves to live in jail."

He chuckled. Deep and throaty. "You have

no idea, amore." He stepped towards me, closing our distance but I didn't

stand back. I know he has two guns to kill me but I can't seem to shake off the

memory of how he ripped my painting. Ethan and I's painting. Something that we

both made before he died.

He leaned down. His left cheek pressed against

my right. His pink plump lips hovered against my ear. I could feel it grazing

it.

"Have you ever heard of the Mafia?"

I think I just gulped down an invisible apple.

---

So apparently he's in the mafia. Not only that...

he's literally a mafia boss. A fucking Italian mafia boss.

I am toast.

I am screwed.

I am fucked.

Holy shit. Ethan, please come and get me. I

don't think I can stomach the thought that I'm hanging out with a crime boss.

"You seem nervous, amore. I thought you

are just going to have a meeting with your friend." He had a mischievous

smirk right in his handsome face.

Yeah, unfortunately the italian mafia boss is

a god. A greek god. A greek italian god. Am I even making any sense?

He was sitting right across the table. He was

annoyingly relaxed and here I am freaking scared of his existence. I wish I

didn't know. I wish he didn't tell me who he really was. My bravery flew right

out the window when I realized that he's the very top of a crime list.

At least he was nice enough to buy me a coffee

paired with blueberry cheesecake.

"What do you plan... on doing with

me?" Gulping down my fear while asking. I couldn't even have the guts to

drink or eat the treat he ordered for me.

"Eat now, amore. You haven't eaten

anything since last night."

Hello, my name is not Amore. "Why do you

even care?"

"I care cause as I said..." He put

his elbows on the table and leaned towards me. "You are now my *****. I

will not enjoy my puttana all skins and bones. You will not be those women I

came across who would defy me by thinking I would care if they don't eat. I

will not hesitate to kill if I find you unnecessary, ragazza." His italian

was thick yet he spoke perfect english.

I swallowed an imaginable lump. I adjusted my

seat as if to settle my uncomfortable and anxious self. "Can you just let

me go? Please just let me go. I would even forget about the ruined painting. I

promise that I never seen you kill anyone." I plead.

He chuckled. It was mischievous and cunning.

"And you think that is the reason I'm keeping you?" He leaned to me

even more. Our noses were inches apart. I could see those eyes that reminded me

of clear waters. It was near grey. My hands were itching to draw him and paint

him right after. The wave of his hair had specific direction. It was almost

curly and though it looked black, highlights of brown could be recognized under

the sunlight. He was truly beautiful.

"The moment you walked into that room,

you have surrendered your life to me. No one and I mean no one gets away from

these eyes, ragazza." He was no longer smirking. His eyes held depths of

seriousness and I knew. I knew that I'm in the deepest of trouble.

Ethan, I take it back. I don't want to follow

you. Not like this. I don't wanna follow you in the afterlife, killed by this

crime boss.

"Hailynn!"

Our yearlong gazes were suddenly broken. He

leaned back to his seat while my head turned to the source of the voice.

Shit. Avery's already here.

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