CHAPTER SEVEN

ANYA

I followed the stranger's lead, allowing him to guide me into a seat. As I finally took a moment to truly look at him, my breath caught in my throat, momentarily forgetting the perilous situation I found myself in.

His face possessed a captivating symmetry, with an oval shape accentuated by a slightly pointed chin and a strong jawline. His piercing green eyes, set apart at just the right distance, gazed back at me with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. It was an arresting gaze that held both power and authority.

But there was something else about him, something that defied the fear and danger that surrounded us. Despite the coldness in his voice, there was an undeniable allure in his features.

His eyebrows, perfectly shaped and subtly arched, seemed to mirror the curve of his broad, crooked nose. And those lips, lush and inviting, curled into a smirk that hinted at a confidence I couldn't ignore.

His hair, a rich brown shade, was neatly combed back, revealing a forehead that added to his overall appeal. The absence of sleeves on his shirt allowed my eyes to wander, revealing a glimpse of the strength that lay beneath.

My gaze fixated on his arms, adorned with tattoos that hinted at a deeper meaning. Two cardinals perched on a tree, their eyes locked in an eternal connection, were etched on his right arm. Below it, words read, "I am always with you." It was a striking image, one that stirred a mixture of curiosity and fascination within me.

He was undeniably breath-taking, a combination of beauty and danger that both attracted and repelled me. Instinctively, I knew he was someone I should fear, someone who held power over my fate.

I met his gaze, my eyes locked with his, and in that moment, I sensed an unspoken understanding pass between us. There was more to this enigmatic stranger than met the eye, and his presence alone evoked a complex mix of emotions within me.

"Are you done?" he asked, a faint twitch at the corners of his mouth betraying a hint of amusement.

I tilted my head, curiosity laced with apprehension. "Who are you?" I ventured to ask, hoping to pierce through the enigma that surrounded him.

His expression hardened, his features turning serious. The shift in his demeanour sent a chill down my spine. "Who are you?" he responded, his voice laced with a coldness that made my heart skip a beat.

In that instant, the air grew heavy with tension, and my initial intrigue transformed into genuine fear. I found myself unable to speak, my mouth dry, as I stared at him with wide, fearful eyes, searching for any trace of mercy or understanding.

"Talk," he boomed, his voice echoing through the room. I flinched, startled by the commanding tone that resonated within every fibre of my being.

Summoning every ounce of courage I could muster, I finally managed to utter, "Anya. Anya Chirkov," my voice trembling with both fear and vulnerability.

"Anya," he repeated my name, and the way it rolled off his tongue held a certain sweetness, a striking contrast to the coldness that had enveloped us. My mind involuntarily cringed at the absurdity of finding solace in the way he said my name, berating myself for such irrelevant thoughts in the face of danger.

As I mentally scolded myself, I realized that this was not the time for idle musings. I had to focus on the situation at hand, on the unknown perils that lay ahead. This mysterious man, with his captivating yet intimidating presence, held the key to my fate. In his eyes, I saw both the potential for salvation and the capacity for unimaginable cruelty.

"Fucking Russians," he muttered, the line between his brows deepening.

Summoning my courage, I asked the question that lingered in my mind. "Who are you?" My voice wavered, revealing my trepidation.

A smirk played at the corner of his lips as he responded, "You really don't know who I am?" I shook my head, my eyes locked with his, waiting for an answer that would unravel the mystery surrounding this enigmatic man.

"You must have heard of me. My name brings terror to those who hear it. I am Vincenzo Cassano," he declared, his voice laced with an unsettling pride.

My mouth fell open, and time seemed to stand still. My heart ceased its rhythmic beat, as if the world had paused to acknowledge the gravity of the situation. In that moment, it felt as though we were the only two people in this vast room, his presence crowding my space. The fear that gripped me was paralyzing, my heart pounding in my chest.

It was unthinkable, surreal. This was Vincenzo fucking Cassano standing before me. The realization struck me like a thunderbolt, sending a jolt of electricity through every fibre of my being. My mind screamed, and my body trembled with a mixture of awe and terror. I felt goose bumps rise on my arms, as if my very skin sensed the sinister aura that surrounded him.

Vincenzo Cassano, known as the devil, was a name whispered in the darkest corners, a name that invoked fear and commanded respect. He was the embodiment of terror, a man notorious for his cruelty and ruthlessness. As the youngest Capo of the La Cosa Nostra, the Italian famiglia, he had attained the position at a tender age - ten years old - solidifying his reputation as a force to be reckoned with.

Fear coursed through my veins like a torrential wave, surpassing any fear I had ever experienced. Vincenzo Cassano was not someone I ever wanted to cross paths with, let alone find myself entangled within his grasp. The gravity of my situation became painfully clear as I stared into the eyes of the devil himself.

In the presence of this terrifying and dangerous man, my world had shifted irrevocably. I was now trapped in the devil's lair, facing a future filled with unimaginable darkness.

"You can start breathing," he remarked, breaking the tense silence that enveloped us. I hadn't even realized that I had been holding my breath, and I released it sharply, feeling a slight relief wash over me.

His piercing gaze remained fixed on me, his eyes filled with scrutiny and disdain. I could sense the disgust in his scrutiny, as if he saw me as nothing more than a repulsive pest. And in that moment, I couldn't help but feel like one, a mess both physically and emotionally from the fall I had taken.

"Who are you looking for?" he inquired, his voice dripping with condescension. I struggled to meet his gaze, intimidated by the intensity of his scrutiny.

"Did your father send you?" he pressed further, his tone leaving no room for evasion.

I hesitated, my mind racing to process his assumption. He believed that my father had sent me, unaware that Uncle Pietro was the one he mistook for my dad.

I mustered up the courage to respond, my voice tinged with both confusion and frustration. "Hmmn?" I muttered, stalling for time, hoping to buy myself a moment to gather my thoughts.

He grew impatient, his glare intensifying. "I asked a question, and I expect an answer," he declared, his narrowed eyes revealing his irritation at having to repeat himself.

"What did you say?" I feigned ignorance, a desperate attempt to divert the conversation away from my supposed connection to my father.

"Did your father send you?" he repeated, his tone laden with impatience and suspicion.

My heart raced, and I carefully chose my words, my voice trembling slightly. "No, my... I mean, my dad didn't send me to do anything," I stammered, trying to defend myself against his accusations.

He responded with a sinister laugh, his amusement laced with contempt. "So, what were you doing in the woods then?" he probed further, his eyes never leaving mine.

"I... I lost my way, and I ended up there," I explained, my voice filled with genuine desperation. "It was a coincidence. I ran away from home because I discovered they were trying to sell me to you. I don't know who that man was."

He regarded me with a sceptical smirk, clearly unconvinced by my explanation. "You expect me to believe that bullshit?" he retorted, his disbelief evident.

"Yes, that's the truth," I asserted, desperation seeping into my voice. "I found myself in the woods by chance, with no connection to any nefarious schemes. I had no intention of crossing paths with you."

"But you ended up on my turf," he stated, a chilling reminder of the gravity of my situation.

I swallowed hard, my fear intensifying with his words. Yes, I knew I had unwittingly stumbled into his territory, and the realization alone was enough to send shivers down my spine. There was no need for him to remind me of the sheer terror that came with being in Vincenzo Cassano's presence.

"So, what are you going to do to me?" I mustered the courage to ask, my voice trembling with fear. His piercing gaze bore into me, and I braced myself for his response.

"What do you think?" he replied, his tone devoid of mercy. "I am going to make you pay in your father's stead."