A Deal

Adelaide

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"What's so funny?"

I snapped back to reality and looked at the entrance. In my temporary loss of sanity, I hadn't heard the door open. I'd made a mistake. A very big mistake. The man who stood before me was supposed to be dead. He was my target, Romano Acerbi. His gun was pointed directly at me.

I was, quite literally, caught red-handed.

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I couldn't believe my eyes. The man in front of me was Romano Acerbi. I must have really lost my mind. A flurry of questions sped through my mind. Am I hallucinating? Did they drug me? How is he alive? Am I going to die? And most importantly, how long have I been sitting in that damn chair for?

I couldn't move. I couldn't get out of this situation. He was standing there with a gun pointed straight at me. Funnily enough, my heart wasn't hammering in my chest and my palms weren't sweating. I was calm. Deathly calm. The only part of me that was freaking out was my brain.

"Why were you laughing?" He asked me for the second time.

He was tall. Taller than Adrian. He looked to be around 6ft. I wasn't a giant but I wasn't small either. I stood at 5ft 8 and when I straightened my back to its full potential and lifted my head a little bit I could barely pass as 5ft 9. His hair was as dark as charcoal. It was sleeked back and it looked like he was a bit obsessed with his gel. He was muscular, proven by his bulging biceps and lean figure. He was wearing a button-up shirt and dress pants. Unfortunately for him, muscular men pissed me off.

He took a step towards me.

"So you want to be silent now huh? Okay, I can play that game."

I didn't say anything, looking up at him to meet his eyes. They were the colour of obsidian.

I watched as a slow grin grew on his face.

"Why don't you sit down la mia stella? We have lots to talk about." He said moving closer to me.

(Translation: My star)

When I didn't move, the grin he was wearing disappeared. "Sit." He said putting the end of the gun to my head.

I picked up the chair and sat down.

This was the worst scenario I could've gotten myself into. Curse me and my overly confident self.

"That's better la mia stella." He purred, gun still in my face.

"Now, step two. Hand over your weapons." I looked at him.

"I've already exposed all my weapons." I lied to him. I still had two more knives strapped to my body, only to be used in times of crisis and well, I thought I had the upper hand until 30 seconds ago.

He chuckled, a deep resonating chuckle.

"We both know that is not true. Now, if you do not want a bullet lodged in your pretty little head I would suggest handing them over." He said sweetly, a smile returning to his face.

I begrudgingly reached down and lifted my sweatpant, exposing my right leg and a knife strapped there. I took out the knife and placed it in his big outstretched hand. I sat back up and looked at him.

"Now the other one." He said.

I lifted my sweatshirt up and pulled it over my head, exposing the white tank top that I had underneath. I reached into my bra and pulled out a small, discrete razor. It wouldn't even qualify as a knife. I placed it in his palm. I was officially unarmed.

Maybe I could try to seduce him again?

"Good girl." He purred.

I turned away, refusing to look at him. He doesn't deserve my seduction skills.

"Are you wearing contact lenses, stella?" He asked leaning closer to my face.

Wearing contact lenses made it harder for people to track me down. It was company policy to change your appearance depending on the country you were deployed in and for this mission, I had dyed my hair black and put in brown contacts. They also didn't allow tattoos or piercings, they didn't need a recognizable feature if my victim got away. Not like that had ever happened to me before.

"No." I lied

"You are lying stella, I can see your real eye colour. Keep your eyes open and stay still." He said to me.

(Translation: Star)

With a gun still pointed at my head, I opened my eyes. He switched his hands so that his left hand was now holding the gun to my head and his right hand was free. He leaned close to my face and lifted up my chin.

"Open your eyes piccola patata." He whispered.

(Translation: Little potato)

My eyes widened. What the fuck did he call me? Did he call me a fucking potato? Goddammit, I should've studied food vocabulary more. I snapped out of my thoughts when I realized that a finger was coming straight towards my eye. The finger was too close to my eye to move away so I just let it happen. I like having two eyes in my face.

I've had my fair share of weird and awkward moments happen to me in my career. For example, one time I, unfortunately, had the pleasure of walking in on my target with his dick inside his sister in law. And that didn't even make the top five. But this, Romano Acerbi, the mafia boss who was supposed to be dead, holding a gun to my head while taking out my contact lenses was definitely climbing up the list of awkward moments.

I could feel his breath fanning my cheek as he carefully removed the contact lens in my left eye. He really needed a mint. Up close, I could see stubble peppering his defined jawline. If this dude wanted to, he could definitely be a model and a popular one at that. His lips were red and slightly chapped. They looked like they had been harshly chewed. Hopefully, by his own teeth, I thought, chuckling to myself.

He took out the first contact and was about to go for the second when I intercepted, shutting my eyes closed.

"I can take my own fucking contacts out thank you." I pushed him away and started to take out my other contact lens. I heard him chuckle and I looked up to meet his eyes.

"Happy now?" I questioned him.

"You are a brave piccola patata considering that I still have a gun pointed at your head." He started at me, with a small smirk playing on his face. I breathed in and out. Stay calm, I told myself. Keep in control.

"Your eyes are beautiful for a patata. The green suits your face." He stated, his voice deep.

"What the fuck do you want?" I said, letting my emotions bubble over.

His smirk grew larger.

"Such offensive words coming out of such a beautiful mouth. I only want to talk to you la mia stella."

I didn't reply. Man, this guy was getting on my nerves. Why won't he just torture me and get it over with? It's nothing that I haven't experienced before.

He didn't say anything either, keeping our eyes locked. A minute passed and I started to become uncomfortable. If awkward silences were his way or torturing me then it was working. I could feel myself start to sweat through my trousers and I didn't want to sweat through my white shirt and expose myself in the process. He would see my naked body the day that hell froze over. I reached over to pick up the sweatshirt that I had carelessly laid on the floor. I would rather die of sweat than let this fucker witness my tank top go see-through.

"What are you doing?" He asked me, irritation laced in his voice.

"Imagining what your brains would look like splattered on that grey wall behind you," I stated, starting to pull the sweatshirt over my head.

"Keep it off."

I ignored him pulling it over my body and pushing my arms through the sleeves. I looked up at him and saw him visibly annoyed. I felt satisfied.

At least I had won that round.

"I told you to keep it off." He said putting the gun back against my forehead.

I looked him straight in the eye. Who gives a fuck if I die here? Probably nobody, I thought to myself.

"How long have I been here for?" I question him.

He chuckled.

"I don't think you're in the right situation to be making negotiations." He said to me, pressing the gun harder against my forehead. Beads of sweat started to roll down my neck, travelling under my sweatshirt. The little beads of sweat brought me back to reality. For a few seconds, I focused only on the way that they felt as they made their journey. I was calm again. My sanity was in reach.

This guy had no idea who the fuck he was messing with.

"We both know that if you wanted me dead you would've killed me already. So what the fuck do you want with me?" I said with a sickly sweet smile on my lips.

"I want to make a deal la mia stella." His voice was cold.

"What kind of deal?" I asked. "You're my target, I can't leave without you dead."

"Work for me piccolo patata. Kill for me."

I looked up to meet his eyes and saw that he was deathly serious.

"I am already registered with another organisation, I can't leave them," I said to him, maintaining eye contact. "Loyalty is everything to me," I added, hoping that he would sympathise with my situation. I'm not loyal to my organisation, I've just had no other offers before this point. I don't do loyalty. I'm not a dog.

"La mia stella. La mia stella preziosa. Questo è esattamente il motto per cui ti voglio. Ti voglio cosi tanto." He whispered to himself. When he looked over to me and saw that I didn't quite understand what the hell he just rambled he sighed. Maybe I didn't know as much Italian as I thought I did. To be fair, I wasn't preparing to be kidnapped.

(Translation: My star. My precious star. That's exactly why I want you. I want you so bad.)

"You will be loyal to me now, patata." He said.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"You don't have a choice." He seemed to be getting frustrated that his gun trick wasn't working. He looked away and put his gun down.

I always had a choice, I thought to myself.

"You're rich aren't you? Why don't you hire someone else to do it?" I questioned him while relaxing as much as the wooden chair would let me.

He looked up at me, eyes glimmering. "You were the first person to pass the test that I set up."

I furrowed my eyebrows.

"Test?"

A grin was slowly spreading across his face. "Yes, a test. You killed that boy, didn't you? And you managed to stab me. You passed with flying colours."

This fucking bastard.

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