Needles & The Cinnamon Roll!

"You are off duty, Niall."

Having the spaghetti in such an awkward situation, Ronan didn't care about how many men was around him and why would the underworld Lord bother to give a damn fuck about how uneasy they seem standing with their backs towards the terrifying man.

The poor souls didn't get any instruction of what to proceed further, neither they were told to leave nor to stay, technically Ronan didn't order them anything. Since it was Niall who dictated them what to do next, because Ronan Ross was greatly immersed into devouring the delectable flavour of the spaghetti.

After satiating his taste buds, Ronan placed the fork into the white plate which collided with the cutlery producing a feeble clang sound. The sudden sound echoed in the quiet room, and infused a fright condition within them when a grim silence was hovering and tensing the atmosphere.

Ronan directed his right hand man that he could take a few moments off, which was actually an implementation on each of the man present in the room. The Lord was home after a week and a fiasco was waiting for him, Ronan needed to clean up the mess.

Who would dare to think, what the great American underworld Lord used to do in the villa, that was filled with the memories of his late wife.

"Yes, master."

Niall's voice resonated in the down hall as the response to Ronan's short speech.

The footsteps voiced in the room as the jury found its way out of the villa, it wasn't because of the habit or a signature style rather the men were hurrying to get out of the house, to gasp some fresh air.

Each of the men knew that their boss was already not in a good mood to witness or to hear any nonsensical thing because to comment or give a remark was out of the question, specifically in that place.

Moreover, in front of Ronan Ross, to talk back was a sin and everyone needed to be punished so the chief of those thugs invited his wrath, upon himself unknowingly. The Lord never intended or attempted to do anything that was out of his signature working style.

But the situation seemed to be different from what Ronan had kept till the date, as the king stood up from the chair, picked up the white cutlery and turned towards the wash basin. One would have wondered that why he sent those men out when he had already cooked in front of those souls.

Ronan Ross, the most feared man had a thing for food, his attempt to cook in front of his own 'wolves' was not an out of box act rather the lord had satiated his tongue on every single mission, whereas his men took the liberty to fix the opponents Ronan Ross explored the kitchen of every location he had to barge in.

It never occured to anyone ever that the Lord was a foodie person rather they had thought of it as a part of influencing the opponents by his unusual calm tone and confident personality. Niall, the man servant felt his pulse quicken when he heard Ronan Ross giving him some free moments.

The man knew that tone, that now his young master desired a few moments with his late wife, he never understood how a cold man like Ronan Ross could be head over heels in love with a single woman, on the top who died six years ago.

When the jury had stepped out of the door Niall gently shut the main entrance and the hoard went towards the BMWs which were allotted to them, the question occurs why the lord didn't distinguish himself from his servants?

I leave the answer to you people.

Ronan didn't need to check whether the men had obeyed him or not because he was sure that every single person valued his life more than the unsettling curiosity in their hearts.

The Lord placed the plate into the wash basin and turned on the tap, the water flowed on the cutlery as he washed the dishes himself.

'Look Amaris, you always complain that I don't help you in the kitchen chores at all, see, I am reduced to the point of washing the dishes now after you are gone.'

'I remember you didn't want any third person to step into our heaven, and refused to keep a maid to attend you during the pregnancy but see, I am still keeping your premise and doing the things by myself.'

Ronan Ross, a little boy of twelve years old fell into the terrible clutches of the former mafiya leader, who killed his parents and took interest in the brave hearted boy, who attempted a counter attack on the former mafiya Lord.

The daring act and the flickering of anger in his eyes caught his attention, that he took the little boy under his wings but who would have thought that the criminally genius boy would devise such a plan to backstab his own so called benefactor.

The boy turned eighteen years old, his dedication to learn and analyse the surroundings made a great man out of him. Ronan's ingenious scheming killed the former mafiya Lord and the young boy of eighteen replaced him, by ascending the throne.

The image of cruelty and the reincarnation of the devil, who would have believed that the same boy with unstable ire and the bubbling revenge was washing the dishes while having a mind conversation with his late wife.

'I'm sorry for letting my men in but you know Amaris, I had to...I just had to because I can't bear any third person to 'see' you, I can't spare anyone who would dare to mess with my belongings.'

With his sleeves rolled up and the fur coat resting on the chair, Ronan was immersed into explaining the things to his wife. Whatever he said was true, the lord abide by his words as his men had shoved the needles into their eyes because they might have...remember, might have seen the pictures of Amaris in the villa!