Luisa sat on one of the barstools as she admired the extravagant interior design of the club Giocatori, situated in Porta Venezia, in Milan.
The interior design was a sumptuous blend of modern, sleek lines and classic, Baroque-inspired flourishes. The walls were attired in rich velvety fabrics, while the floors fabricated from polished, black marble that seemed to span forever.
She was clad in a very tight, long black strapless dress, that had a split in the middle that began from her left mid-thigh. Her breasts were almost spilling out of the dress as she leaned forward, folding her arms on the bar's sprawling 20-meter-long affair that's crafted from a single piece of scintillating, cream colored Carrara marble.
He wasn't here yet. She was well informed, so she knew he would be at the club tonight. Once the promise of a spectacular reward for his betrayal was kept, Francesco wasted no time in using his newfound vantage point to accumulate more wealth and investments, one of them being his favorite club to be in.
He does almost everything at this club, from business meetings, to partying and fulfilling his darkest fantasies. Francesco now heads a mob, of course under the supervision of the Bianchis'.
1:14AM, maybe her informant was wrong and Francesco wouldn't be in the club today. She was livid, her precious time had been wasted. She would make sure he never gave her a wrong info ever again, of course she was going to kill him, she'd decided as she was making her move to stand up and leave, she caught sight of the man of the hour, adorned in a dark red shirt, with cream-colored pants. His shoulder length hair was tied up in a low bun, brown as a nut, his beards are grown now, neatly trimmed, his ears were adorned with two small diamond loops each, and that chocolate brown eyes she had once loved so much were hidden behind a dark shade. He looked good.
She never thought she could have ever hated him this much. She didn't do emotions or love until him. He was the only man, besides her father that she'd developed a soft spot for, he's seen her in her worst moments and bests.
They'd starting dating when she was just 19, and he was 32. Her father would have killed him if he ever found out, so they did everything in secret.
One year ago, she was faced with the greatest betrayal of her life by the only man she ever knew, ever loved. And now? Now, she hated him with every fiber of her being. She hated him more than she's ever loved him.
Why he had spared her that night, she has no idea, but what she does know is that he made a grave mistake he would soon regret. Her informant was on point after all, lucky him, tonight was not his dying night she concluded as she sat back on the barstool and observed her target.
She watched as he made his way through the sea of heavily drunk, oblivious people, armed bodyguards all around him. He finally reached his destination, one of the two intimate VIP lounges, arms rested on the glass railings as he eyed his full to the brim club. Their eyes connected.
Luisa's breath hitched in her throat, she feared he might recognize her, although she didn't look away, she stared him straight on and kept the eye contact, and so did he.
Francesco hadn't seen a woman more beautiful. Well, except for one, but he wouldn't think about her today, he chided himself. He had come to his club to have a good time, that plan still stands, even more so now that he'd set his eyes on this enchanting vixen.
Her dirty blond hair cascaded down her face in waves, those lips, damn those full soft looking plump lips coated in blood red paint, her makeup was minimal, highlighting her natural beauty, prominent high cheekbones that give her face a sculpted appearance, straight, proportional nose that compliments her other facial features with a defined jawline and entrancing blue eyes. Francesco might have as well found the woman of his dreams.
"Dovrei farla venire qui per te, capo, prima che tu inondi tutto questo posto con la tua bava?" (Should I get her over here for you boss, before you flood this whole place with your drool?)
Jorginho, his right-hand man asked. He'd never seen his boss stare at a woman for more than 10 seconds. He always admired how his boss never fell for any of his whores, that restraint enthused him. He always looked up to Francesco as some kind of deity, his stone hearted boss, who has no time for any emotion whatsoever. If only he knew.
"Shut up" Francesco retorts.
Even he didn't understand how he'd become so enthralled by this strange woman so quick, he didn't even know her name.
"Ehi! Portamela!" (Hey! Bring her to me!)
Francesco ordered his right-hand man. He was unable to mask it any longer, he was intrigued, he wanted her. He hadn't felt this kind of spark in the past five years, when he walked into the room of an utterly naked 19-year-old beauty.
In his hasty quest to deliver to her, her father's message, he hadn't knocked and luckily for him the door was unlocked, so he just barged in on her walking out of the en-suite bathroom. He would never in his life forget that view.
The view of her drenched dark locks that stretched to her waist, her deep brown eyes that always reminded him of melted chocolates. Her breasts. Gosh her breasts!
~Flashback~
"Wait he's staring at her breasts, the breast of a 19-year-old! Fuck she's just a kid, not just any kid, his Don's kid. Alessandro would have his head for this he thought as he quickly caught himself, before his own eyes would betray him and stray too far. *Your father said to tell you that you should hasten up, you have four targets today* his Italian accent was thick as he tried his best to fight his own mind and jnr. He lost the battle, his mini me was already bulging and very evident through his silk grey pants, and his mind had already swarmed with different scenarios. Fuck! He thought again. *Erghmm* he cleared his throat, gulping as he crossed his hands over his bulge. Four targets for a 19-year-old, he thought. Impressive. He knew she was a deadly assassin and Aless only ever gave her the toughest jobs, which means that she was extremely good, probably the best they've got at the De Rossi's. Everyone feared her in the mafia, she was as cold as ice, and just as ruthless. He shouldn't be feeling this way for her, she could kill him on the spot, but just like every other man who encountered her, he too was entirely under the mercy of her ethereal beauty. Yes, she was profoundly deadly, but he wasn't scared. How unwise, if only he knew the depth of her deadlines and ruthlessness. *togli le mani* (remove your hands) she ordered him. Her voice mimicked that of the angels, so delicate yet bold and clear. Francesco pretended ignorance; he couldn't have heard her right. His posture brittle, eyes looking straight ahead and throat tight as she sauntered towards him, still bare, her 5'8 loftiness couldn't stand head-to-head with his 6'2 length, yet she stood in his face staring at his eyes that had now found the sliding door of her bathroom to be the most interesting view in the world. The corner of her lips swiveled upwards with a devious smirk as she put her hands over his and uncrossed them over his bulge. *It looks to be in pain... what can I do to relive it? * She asked ever so sweetly, with a face that displayed genuine innocence yet, her actions were a perfect contrast to her face as she grabbed Francesco's cock through his pants. *cazzo! Luisa...* (Fuck! Luisa) *Hmmn?* She candidly inquired, like she oblivious to the effects of her actions on him. Francesco's eyes eventually fell to hers, the vein on his forehead popped as he tried and flopped in restraining himself, especially when she started rubbing up and down on his hard on. *Mi vuoi Francesco? * (Do you want me, Francesco?) She breathed in his ear. She was 19 and he was 32, he kept repeating in his head, hoping that would be enough reason for him to refrain from doing something he might later regret. *Luisa... fermati* (Luisa stop) He breathlessly replied. *Okay* As if he was a flame that scorched her, she withdrew herself from him just as fast and stood a foot away, staring at him. Francesco lost his lofty perch, immediately missing her touch and the warmth her body provided. Tension hung in the air like a fog, the silence was deafening as they both stood staring at each other. Francesco knew the right thing was to leave now, and forget whatever just happened, he knew he'd be making the right call, and saving his head, but he couldn't deny the electricity coursing through his veins right now, consequencesbe damned he thought as he covered the distance between them, one hand on her waist, and the other at the back of her head before smashing his lips to hers. Both parties didn't have the time to savor each other as they were interjected by Alessandro's calls for his daughter. *Luis!!!* Alessandro roared across the hall, his strides long and purposeful as they evidently led him to his daughter's doorstep. He had sent Franc to go get her, and hadn't gotten a reply from his right-hand man, nor has his daughter acknowledged his summon. Luisa and Francesco detached from each other as fast as light the moment they heard Alessandro's voice, and just in time before they were caught as the head of the De Rossi mafia appeared, his striking features the same as his second daughter, Sofia. *Luis-*"
~Flashback ends~
"Capo … capo"
Francesco's trip down memory lane was halted by his right-hand man's voice.
"Fuck... you were saying?"
Francesco asked, now fully turned to give Jorginho his undivided attention. The latter looked to be scared to get the words out, if she knew who had sent him, she wouldn't have given him that reply. She was bold he'd give her that, but that boldness would bring nothing but her death, his master hates to be defied, and she didn't just defy him, she commanded him. The Capo of Ghiacciaio Mob! She was in for it, he thought.
"I don't have all night, Jorginho." Francesco pressed.
Jorginho straightened his posture. A brief moment of silence, and then a gulp, and then...
"Ti ha chiesto di scendere tu stesso, capo" (She's asked for you to come down yourself, capo).
Francesco's jaw clenched, hard.