Third Identity, Alana!

[Somewhere in Italy]

The massively stretched villa felt the audible footsteps of black shoes as soon as the grimly dressed man made his not-so-fancy appearance. Passing through the spiral staircase which rested in one corner, among the Victorian shaded walls the man reached the upper floor. 

Halted in front of the door, in the midst of inaudible atmosphere the only thing which could be heard was his heavy breath. Maybe he had enough of the day and the gibberish of his men, of course who would take such a nuisance the whole day.

The man placed his right hand on the door handle and pushed it, that the mere wooden door opened a jar producing a sound in the hushed room. 

'Ah! Fuck!'

He stepped inside the spacious room and pulled arms backwards in an attempt to take off the neat black coat. One could clearly sense his irritation from the knitted eyebrows and creased expressions, maybe he just wanted to lay down on the comfy mattress yelling on his left side.

He tossed off the coat on the floor, gladly the carpet was already waiting for its master with a bow to take care of the black coat. The man pulled the chained tie as to loosen it's clutching grip around his long neck, and proceeding in a similar way it was bestowed upon the carpeted floor. 

It did not take him more a few brief seconds that a feeble thump of his weary silhouette raised its voice, which was soon muffled by the unnatural deafening silence. Perhaps the whole villa never heard any other noise let alone some feminine voice. 

'Where are you, Alana?'

His mind was terribly occupied with multiple thoughts, that the man could not help but to heave a deep sigh. Although, the restless storm within his brain was unsettling, completely contrasting to his serenely grim surroundings.

The man stared at the whitewashed roof blankly, his mind was still wandering upon the thoughts of a particular person. How could possibly a strong man like him began to think about a woman, perhaps he was actually smitten by the temptress. 

The dim golden lights in every square corner were illuminating the room enough to see the placed necessities. But still something was off, perhaps the silence or his heart!

He raked through his black sleek hair which were might cascade upto his shoulder length, but at that moment were thrown on the bed. The man shared many similarities with Ronan Ross and the mysterious Kyril, maybe he also had some association with underworld. 

It would be not a wonder if the man actually had some connection to them or with mafia, because the designer coat miserably laying on the floor had a gun in its pocket. Similarly, the dark blue tie had a small chip rolled and sewn into the folds of clothes. 

The man was not some ordinary citizen of Italy, that was an accurate conclusion. But then again, who was he?

He supported his tired and weary body, pushed himself to sit with an irritated groan. His oceania blue eyes travelled along the room and eventually landed on the study table, where a brown diary wearing leather clothes was sobbing the man's own thoughts. 

Without pondering for any further minute he rose up from the comfy mattress, which had earlier sunk because of his muscular strength. He followed the wishes of his heart and order of his heart, which was screaming Alana's name in each palpitation! 

The mysterious man walked upto the desk and plopped into the chair, while his flickering orbs were roaming on the photo frame. His elbows rested on the table and chin on the diary, as his brain began to get clouded with the thoughts. 

'It has been a month, Alana, that you are gone. You know how much I miss your absence, come back soon into my arms!'

The photograph was perhaps responding to his request, in which he was standing by wrapping his arms along Renna aka Amaris's shoulder!