MAFIA'S OBSESSIVE LOVE INTOXICATED

14 Years Ago

"Hello? Are you hurt?"

The teenaged boy raised his eyes upon hearing a little girl's voice. He immediately scowled when he saw her gawking at him with curiosity, with half a licorice hanging from her lips. She was a wee thing, no more than five, he estimated, with light-brown hair-a dull, boring color for sure-tied into pigtails.

"Hurt?" He found himself asking.

"Mm." She nodded furiously. "Are you in pain? You want me to ring the doctor for you or something?"

Pain?

A foreign word for sure. A word that had never been directed at him in his fourteen years of life.

Oh, right. Of course she would ask such a question. He was hunched over, after all, resting himself against the tall American beech tree in this secluded part of the national park, hands clenching his stomach. Not to mention his lips were split and bleeding and his face was cut and bruised from a fight. Any idiot could tell he was in pain and suffering severely.

Oddly enough, the thought of him truly in so much pain that it seared his soul amused him. Amused him enough, in fact, that it made him laugh. He laughed so hard that he started to cry, truly cried in a mixture of anger, frustration, and sorrow. He knew he looked like shit, but what the heck!

"Why are you laughing like that?" the little girl queried in confusion. "Is it so painful that you laugh just to forget about it? The pain? I do that, too, when I'm in pain." She even nodded, to prove her point.

Oh God! Shit! A mere child who didn't know him cared about him, whereas his own family hadn't given a fuck.

When he managed to calm down, he looked at her straight in the eye and said coldly, "You shouldn't talk to a person like me." There was sarcasm in his voice that the girl didn't understand.

She cocked her head to one side, assessing him. "I know I shouldn't talk to a stranger, but you're in pain and must be very sick. I'm being a good sama-" She paused, trying to get her word right. "A good samari-"

"Samaritan?" He finished for her.

She nodded furiously. "That's it. And you look like a good person. You wouldn't hurt me, would you?"

Hurt her? He'd definitely hurt her if she didn't get the hell out of his way. It was in his blood after all, to hurt people. To make money that way. That was his family's ultimate goal, wasn't it? That's what his family did. So why not him?

"Look here, little girl," he began. "I'm a bad guy. You got that? I'm not a good person. So, get out of here!" he growled, hoping to scare her so she would run off and leave him be.

He closed his eyes, fighting hard to breathe. Fuck, one of his ribs must be broken. Even breathing was taking its toll. He felt pain all over, from his split lips to the bruise on his knuckles. It was a fight that was gruesome yet so satisfying. He knew he was slowly turning into the very facade of his family, and bile rose up his throat.

No. No. He didn't want anything to do with them. He hated that he was born in this fucked-up family. An eye for an eye. A tooth for a tooth. No mincing words; just fight and kill. That was his family motto. The Bianchi mafia clan.

Fuck. Wasn't he trying to run away from his own heritage? So, why did he behave like them when a little provocation from his classmate caused him to unleash his inner demon?

God, he needed to flog that nightmare from his mind. He needed to be alone, wanted to be alone, so he could wallow in this misery. He didn't need some little girl to console him. But no matter how hard he tried to shove back those memories, it still played bright in his head like that insistent lonely pain in his heart.

They were in this park just hours prior. Four against one. Him against them. The son of a mafia boss against four policemen's sons. The unlawful verses the lawful. Fuck, what a tip of the scales. He'd used his fists to punch them. But they held him back, restraining him and punching him until what remained was a bloody pulp.

"What are you going to do?" He could hear them taunt him. "Just 'cause you're the son of a thug, you think you can hurt me? My old man's in the police force. He's not going to let a thug like you run America."

That was the last straw. He was spurred into action and punched the living daylights out of those four. Yeah, four against one. But this one won. This one made four of them unconscious. Fuck. What had he become? A monster. Just like his family.

I control my own destiny. I control my own destiny, he chanted to himself, trying to erase that image from his head.

He flinched suddenly when he felt small fingers tracing his hair, patting his head like he needed it. He looked up and met mossy green eyes. Fuck. She still didn't leave him. And her next words almost made tears leak from his eyes.

"Is it sore? Does it hurt a lot?"

What was she referring to? His cut lips, his blue-black eyes, or the pain in his chest?

What a pathetic kid. What did she know about pain? From the look of her pink dress, she looked to be from a normal family, one he'd never experienced. But his heart burned with that insistent threading of her fingers through his hair. And now he felt something else. Warmth, like he wanted her to caress his hair for real, with the love and care that one bestowed on someone you loved.

"Please don't look so sad." She consoled him, crouching down to sit in front of him. And then she looked up at him with a beaming smile on her face. "Ah. I got it. Wait here. Hold my licorice. I'll be right back."

She shoved the half-eaten black licorice into his palm and raced across the field. He saw her disappear into one of the cafés lining the streets opposite the national park.

Alone, he closed his eyes again. Good. She was gone. Finally. Which should make him happy, but he wasn't. He opened his eyes and looked at the licorice in his hands. He should really throw it away. She was gone, after all. She wasn't going to come back. But she'd said she would, and something humane within him still grasped onto that licorice like it was his lifeline.

He gazed up into the sky, feeling the heat on his face. The midafternoon sun really was soothing. Such warmth. Such freedom. When would he feel this free again?

He really should head back home, though. And then tell his family what? That he'd had a fight. Trying to defend what he despised all along, only for his mother to taunt him again.

"A leaf never falls far from its branch. You'd better accept your position and embrace your fate."

A strong coffee scent woke him from those painful memories. He lifted his head and saw the little girl was back. And she was holding a foamy drink in her hand.

"What's this?" he asked, looking at the cup thrust in his face.

"Coffee. For you." She beamed.

"I don't want it." He shifted his gaze to the sky again. Not a second later, the cup was in his face again. "I said I don't want it. I don't drink coffee."

"But I made it for you." Her little voice sounded slightly hurt.

Fuck. He hurt her feelings. "Look, I don't drink coffee. Okay. I don't like coffee."

"How do you know if you've never drunk it?" she asked.

Because my whole fucking family drinks coffee like water. But he didn't tell her that. And clearly, she was starting to irritate him. "Look. I just don't like it, all right. Now leave me alone."

"Can't you just try it? It'll make you happy. Try it. You'll love it. Ma's café is just across the road from here. I get to make coffee all I want. It's really nice. She tells me I make good coffee, and when I grow up, she bets I'll win a barista award. So, you can be the judge. I just know you'll like it because I put all my love in this cup. I want to see a smile on your face. Please smile for me?"

She wanted to see him smile? What the fuck for? Why?

"Go on. Drink it," she urged. "I didn't put any poison in it, like that queen from Snow White with that apple thingy. Once you taste it, you'll become addicted to it like cocaine. That's what Ma always tells me. But I don't know what cocaine is. I think she should compare it to chocolate. Do you like chocolate? I like chocolate. Taste it and see if my coffee tastes like chocolate."

She held that black cup of coffee in her small fingers, not pushing him to accept it, but in turn making him feel guilty if he didn't. He felt miserable, a thousand times worse than when he got into that fight.

"I can't push you to like it, but you can choose to like it once you've tasted it. It's your choice."

He reached out his hand and took the coffee cup from her grasp. And he drank it. He'd never tasted anything so bitter, so foul and disgusting. But for that one moment in his life, he felt happy, his heart singing loudly in his chest.

"What's your name?" he asked, taking another sip, finding he did like the taste after all.

"Bianca." She smiled back, sitting next to him, shuffling her body until she was right beside him. Then she took out a series of bandages from her dress pocket and began to plaster it on his face where the cuts and bruises resided.

He blinked, staring at her large green eyes in front of his face as she proceeded with her work. There were two bandages on his left cheek, three on his forehead, one on his right cheek, and now she was trying to cover the side of his cracked lip as he tried to take another sip of that coffee. He wondered where the heck she got all those bandages from. They were rather bright and colorful, too. His face probably looked like a walking neon light.

"Wow, you have nice black eyes," she said with delight. "I've never seen anyone with black eyes before. It's like looking into the night sky. Have you been outside at night and looked at the sky? It's very hard to see in the city, but my ma takes us to the country all the time, and there you can see the stars. They're so bright against the black sky, like your eyes. I like your eyes. I like you."

He blinked again and shook his head. Bianca was talking a mile a minute. He couldn't comprehend what she was saying.

"I like you," she repeated, like he didn't hear her declaration the first time. "Can I be your friend?"

Friend. Another foreign word. No one wanted to be your friend when you're part of that family.

"Well, can I be your friend? Or do you like to be alone? But I mean, who wants to be alone, anyway? Not me. I want to have friends. Don't you?"

"I don't know if you want to be my friend, though," he managed to say at last. "Like I said, I'm not a good person."

"What did you do? Did you hurt an animal? Ma says if you hurt an animal, you're a bad person. Humans should never hurt animals. They have feelings, too, you know. They feel the pain. So, did you hurt any animals?"

"No. No, I didn't hurt any animals." He wanted to tell her he hurt humans, not animals, but couldn't get the words out. What happened to those four? Were they still lying there on the ground, unconscious?

"Well, then you're not a bad person," she declared. "You're cool. And I like you. So, let's be friends. I gotta go now. Ma is waiting for me in the café. Will you come back tomorrow? Meet me here tomorrow, and I'll share some of my favorite licorice. Did you get to eat some when I gave it to you? They're so nice. Pa always buys them for me. We'll meet tomorrow, then. Bye for now."

And she leaned in to kiss his full plastered cheek. He was so surprised he jumped back and hit his head on a tree branch.

She giggled. "You're so funny. I want to marry you when I grow up. Do you want to marry me?"

"I..."

She shoved her face right in front of him and all he could make out were those sparkling green pupils, sucking him into that whirlpool, captivating even his cold heart.

"Don't answer me just yet. I'll see you tomorrow. Wait for me, okay? I'll see you tomorrow." She raced off the field then. But not a minute went by before he saw her midget body galloping toward him again. "I forgot to ask you for your name. What's your name?"

"Leo. Call me Leo." His lips stretched into a smile, again, a foreign expression on his face.

"Okay, Leo. I'll see you tomorrow." Another peck on his check and then she was gone again.

Leo's heart smiled for the first time in his fourteen years. Tomorrow, he'd come. To see his new friend Bianca.

Present Day

My Sweet Bianca,

Be a dear and deliver this letter for Pa. It's very important that you should deliver this by hand to Mr. De Luca. I promise I'll give you more of your favorite licorice when you return. And I won't tell your sister.

Pa will see you soon.

I stared at the white envelope on the table, my heart about to drum out of my chest.

Pa! I wanted to yell at him. I missed my important accounting lecture because of this?

Pa had left a message for me to come home as soon as possible. It was an emergency. That was what the message had said. I'd thought he had an accident or something, so, I was rushing to get here. I didn't know which was my left or right foot as I stumbled and fell, trying to reach home in time. But what did I find when I got here? A note on the table, beside the white envelope that contained that letter.

What was he thinking? At the rate I was going, I wouldn't even pass the first year of university if Pa kept calling me out to do errands for him like this.

Use the post office for once, Pa. Surely he could just drop this letter off at the post office and be done with it. Why use me?

Then again, why did I bother to ask this silly question? It was because I wasn't good at anything else except for errands like this. I wasn't beautiful, so no one really took a second look at me, unlike my sister Amelia, who was the star of her law school. In fact, I could blend in with the furniture very well. Sometimes, Pa and Amelia couldn't even tell the difference between me and the couch.

Despite all these negative comments about my appearance, though, I'd never been bothered by this. Brown hair with a dusting of freckles on my nose and green catlike eyes, I considered myself to be quite cute.

But back to Pa, though. I wondered where he was right then. I'd definitely give him an earful when I saw him.

I went to search the house. It was empty, no one inside, not Pa or Amelia.

Where had they gone? At this hour, Pa should have been in his office, and Amelia should have been home doing the cooking. She didn't have class in the afternoon, unlike first years, whose schedules were chock full of lectures.

I picked the letter up in my hand, dismissing Pa's absence for now. I examined the address. Upper East Side, Manhattan. It didn't look familiar to me.

Maybe I should put a few stamps on it and slot it in the postbox. That'd save me time. I recalled some stamps stashed away in my backpack somewhere. But Pa did say to deliver this letter by hand. And there was also the case of the licorice. It was tempting me next to the envelope.

"Humph!" I huffed to myself. Who does he think he is, bribing me with candy? It's not like I'm five years old anymore. I can live without candy. Especially licorice.

I was now walking along the streets of Islington Hill, chewing the licorice. How could I resist a bribe such as this licorice Pa bought for me? He knew it was my one weakness and he used it to his full advantage. I was surprised my teeth weren't covered with holes yet, what with the amounts of sweets I ate. But then again, my oral hygiene skills were spectacular.

After the initial shock, I took the bus and walked to deliver this letter. I was sure whatever contents were in the envelope, they must be something important. Maybe Pa doesn't trust the post because it might go missing. A sense of pride filled my chest.

"All right, Bianca. Let's deliver this letter for Pa and make him proud."

Cory Mansion, as stated on the address, was part of a well-established suburb in Upper East Side, Manhattan. If it weren't for the naked Adonis statue sitting in front of the huge fountain, with only a loincloth covering his private part, I was sure I'd have missed it altogether.

Adonis really is beautiful, even though he's made out of white marble. But imagine seeing a real live man that looks like Adonis. He'd be the god of all passion, a person that would totally captivate my heart.

"Ahh," I sighed. "So beautiful."

"What business do you have here?"

What? Who? Where? Did someone just speak?

I looked up and saw a camera pointed in my direction.

Oh, the speaker. I stared at the speaker and said, "I'm sorry. I was just admiring the statue."

"Any other business?"

Swallowing another piece of licorice, I replied, "I'm looking for Cory Mansion. Could you please tell me where it is?"

"This is Cory Mansion."

"Cor... Cory Mansion!" I almost choked on the licorice. I stared at the immaculate garden with lines of green trees on either side, the fountain housing Adonis.

Wow! This mansion must belong to a millionaire.

And then a fleeting thought rushed through my head. What business does Pa have with the resident of this multimillion-dollar mansion?

"What business do you have with us?"

I swallowed the last remaining licorice and composed myself. "I'm here to deliver a letter on behalf of my Pa, Mr. Romano. It's to be handed to a Mr. De Luca. May I see him?"

A few minutes passed before the voice spoke again. "Come in. The gate will open in three seconds. Then walk along the white brick footpath and knock on the door three times. The front door will open."

What's this? White brick road and knock on the front door three times? What am I, Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz? I have a great sense of direction, thank you very much. I never get lost. But I did what the gate keeper told me to do. I knocked on the door three times. Then I stood back while the door took its time to reveal the inside of the property.

"Wow, what a waste of space," I muttered when I stepped inside.

The mansion itself was a huge block of ancient buildings that stood right at the center of the property. From outside, it looked beautiful, but on the inside, it was majestic. The whole foyer was the size of our house alone. Except there was hardly any furniture around, unlike our house.

I was a hoarder, so I always managed to get some secondhand books or some sort of junk to decorate our home. But this place was just adorned with a few couches and an armchair. A beautiful chandelier dropped down from the ceiling, and a skylight provided light in the foyer.

I walked toward the lone armchair, almost not noticing a couple of buff-looking men who stood to the side, staring at me through black sunglasses. They almost gave me a fright, standing there like statues. They had their arms behind their backs, looking quite intimidating.

"Hi," I managed.

The men didn't respond, but just glared back at me. I sat in the chair uncomfortably, wondering what to do. Then something caught my eyes. I advanced toward them and saw they were guns. They looked like the real ones from OO7, the James Bond movie. I wonder if I can touch it.

Too late. Before anyone saw me, I held one in my hand. They're heavy and... cold.

I turned the gun around and put my finger near the trigger. They did feel nice to the touch. Maybe I should have become a policewoman and caught all the bad guys instead of working my butt off for an accounting degree. Using this gun, I could have the ultimate power to tame anyone into submission. My evil side lurked, and I felt like Austin Powers, the bad one of course.

"They aren't real, are they?" I asked one of the men in black, out of curiosity.

"They're real," Came his clipped reply.

A shiver ran down my spine. Okay. I swallowed and felt my heart racing a bit. I put the gun back in its resting place and went back to sit in my seat like an obedient child.

Where have I landed? Surely this was even weirder than Oz. I only hoped those beautiful guns were used for decoration instead of actually killing people.

I knew I should have listened to my instincts and posted the letter instead. But I couldn't help being tempted by that licorice. Now my only hope was to have Mr. De Luca appear fast so I could give him the letter and scram.

Suddenly, two more men walked past me. One came to stand right in front of me and stared down.

"You're the one with the letter?" he asked.

"Yes," I replied promptly.

"Come this way. Boss is ready to see you."

"Boss? Is he Mr. De Luca?"

Me and my big mouth. It just wouldn't stop yapping when I was nervous. Then again, I was actually quite excited. I was eager to find out who the millionaire owner of this estate was. Maybe some old man in his sixties.

I was led to another stylish room with more guns out on display.

Is this a gun museum?

One of the men in the black suits walked in first. Then some moments later, I was urged to enter the room.

I walked in bravely; proud that I'd almost completed my task for Pa. As soon as I stepped inside, a man sitting behind the desk caught my attention. And almost knocked the air out of my lungs. The man was almost an exact replica of the Adonis statue outside. My heart pounded and I smiled. But he didn't smile back. It didn't matter, though. I was here to see Mr. De Luca anyway, not this young man who barely passed for twenty-five.

"I'm here to see Mr. De Luca," I said, before he could say anything.

He still didn't respond, but continued to gaze at me with his midnight eyes. His facial expression twisted as if he'd sucked on a lemon.

"Give me that letter," Adonis finally spoke.

"I'm sorry, but I can only give this to Mr. De Luca," I said.

"Give me that letter," he repeated, this time more threatening.

I held the letter against my chest as if it were my lifeline. "But Pa said-"

"Give boss the letter." One of the men in black trudged forward and snapped at me.

"No!" I snapped back. "Pa said to hand this letter only to Mr. De Luca." I stubbornly stood my ground.

I've no idea why I did that. It wasn't like I was going to win a battle with these men anyway, but still, I wanted to make Pa proud.

"I am Leonardo De Luca," Adonis bit back from behind his desk.

I almost swallowed my own tongue. Leonardo De Luca was this young man whom I had admired. What does Pa have to do with this young man?

I gave Leonardo the letter and smiled up at him again. "Why didn't you say so in the first place? We could have avoided this whole confusion."

He gave me a spiteful look and read the letter.

I didn't know what to do with myself. He was busy reading. It wasn't like I could talk to him when his eyes were skimming across the page, his lips pulled tight. I busied myself with the display of more guns on the wall cabinet.

Gee, I seriously think this place is a gun museum.

Slap!

The sound of a fist meeting a table alerted me, and I shifted my attention to Adonis. His eyes were burning fire.

What's gotten him all fired up? Could it be-

"You're very brave." Leonardo still held my gaze, and then he started rubbing his lips.

"Well, I am brave," I told him, eyes transfixed on those lips.

I was the one who had to carry a beehive filled with bees when I was only twelve years old. No one in my class could do that. They were scared they would get stung. I got stung too, but I was named the bravest girl in my class. Plus, I could ride a unicycle. Even though it was only for two minutes, I still considered that brave.

"Tsk!" He snarled at me and removed his fingers from those lips. That kind of woke me up, too. "Are you brave or stupid?"

Now wait a minute here. Was he trying to hit my sensitive spot? No amount of godlike beauty could get me to look at him in the same gentle way as that Adonis statue, if he was going to start tossing negative comments like this.

"Excuse me?" I stated, chest thrust forward to show I wasn't intimidated by him. "I am brave, and I'm clearly not stupid."

"Then tell me."

His voice suddenly sent a shocking tremble to my heart. What's this? Why is my heart beating so madly? Why does it seem I've heard that voice somewhere before?

"If you're not stupid, then why have you entered a mafia den all alone?"

Upon hearing that, all I could do was stupidly stammer back in disbelief, "Ma-ma-mafia den?"

"Mafia den..." I was still muttering to myself. I really was in the mafia's den. I couldn't believe this. I was going to die for sure. Worse yet, what did Pa have to do with all this? I looked at the man named Leonardo De Luca, my Adonis in real life. "Are you sure you're not jesting with me?"

Leonardo gave me a glare that could even kill a corpse.

"Do you think boss is joking?" one of the men said. "What do you think this place is? Disney Land?"

"What's your name?" Leonardo asked, drawing everyone's attention back to him.

I felt proud of myself suddenly, forgetting all about my circumstances. I was only eighteen, turning nineteen in three months and one day, but I'd achieved so much in life.

"My name is Bianca. I'm a first-year student at Brooklyn College. I study accounting. I'm very good at-"

"You're ugly." Leonardo dropped his line, making my jaw drop to the floor.

"Excuse me!" I huffed. "I may be plain, but I'm not ugly."

Leonardo dismissed me with a wave. "Take the girl away. I can't even bed her with my eyes closed. She talks too much."

"You galoot," I snapped.

Sure, I looked like I'd gone through a twister just to get here, not to mention running home after getting that fake message. My appearance right now was no match to a princess. In fact, I was no different from a beggar, what with my wild platted hair in a jumbled mess. But I was so not ugly. I did have some beautiful points too, like my freckles, for example. They were beautiful and I was proud of them. So, how dare that Adonis mafia boss degrade my appearance like this? I'd give him a piece of my mind.

"Give me a million dollars, and I still wouldn't bed you. In fact, even if you were the last man on this earth, I still wouldn't bed you. And hear this. Even if you were the last remaining man on this earth, and the fate of all humanity depended on us, I still wouldn't-"

"SHUT UP!" he barked. "Say one more word and I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to Beasty."

I wanted to blast another earful at him, but I was scared he might really cut out my tongue. I didn't know about these mafia people. They looked scary, acted scary, and behaved in a scary way, especially that big boss. I didn't want to have to find out if they were going to act on their threats or not. It was best if I kept quiet. But then my curiosity to know what was in that letter got the better of me.

"Can I ask what my pa wrote in the letter?" I tweeted out.

He glared at me again and then threw me the letter. I felt so mad. I really wanted to bash his handsome face. But what stopped me was that one single phrase in the letter that caught my attention when it landed on the floor.

...my daughter as collateral, in exchange for my debt...

"Debt! Collateral! Pa, you..." I went into full outrage mode. I screamed. I yelled. I cursed.

What was Pa thinking? Using me as collateral in exchange for his debt? So, that's what it was all about. He wanted to trade me for his debt, his plain daughter.

I continued to yell and berate him. Even if he wasn't here to hear it, at least I felt better. I was about to release another throng of words when Leonardo stopped my outrage.

"GOD, you're so bloody annoying," he shouted. He massaged his temple, then fired a demand at the man beside him. "Bobby, take her away. Her screeching is hurting my ears."

The man named Bobby cowered in fear. "Yes, boss." And then he scratched his head. "Where to, boss?"

Leonardo almost lost his temper. He glared at his underling. "Do I have to spell out every single instruction? Use your brain for once. Go shoot her or throw her over a bridge or something. Just get her out of my sight."

"Come this way." Bobby dragged me until I almost lost my footing.

"Hey, take it slow, pal," I yelled, pain shooting up my leg. Then I turned to the big boss. "Look! How much does my dad owe you? Maybe we could work something out."

"What are you suggesting? If you want to trade your body, then I prefer to sleep with a pig."

"I'm not trading my body, you galoot," I yelled, firing back at him for comparing me to swine. "I'm proposing I pay for you via my excellent service."

Leonardo, that hot mafia man, assessed me for a second longer, and then he signaled his underling again. "Take her away."

"What?" I shrieked. No sooner had that word left my mouth, I was dragged out the door again.

I dug my foot on the floor to stop Bobby from dragging me forward. "Where are you taking me?" I pushed back and escaped his hold.

"To the bridge," Bobby said.

"No! You can't throw me over the bridge," I shrieked again. My voice echoed around the large foyer as I fought with Bobby to let me go. But he was as tough as a nail, sticking to my skin like a barnacle to a rock.

"Okay, then, I'll shoot you right here."

"No!" Both Leonardo and I chorused out at the same time.

I turned to stare at Leonardo in surprise. Did I have the wrong impression of this man? Had he decided to change his mind about killing me? Maybe he did have a kind bone in his body.

I smiled at him. He ignored me and said to Bobby, "If you want to kill her, take it outside. I just got the carpet replaced. It's such a hassle to organize for a new one."

What?

I was so freaked out of my bones. Did he really mean to kill me? That answered my question from before. Those guns on display out in the hallway, they weren't merely for decoration.

"You can't shoot me either. Not here nor outside," I hurriedly objected. And then I revealed my last playing card. I yelled with my eyes closed, "I'm an asset to you."

Leonardo smirked. "How are you an asset to me?"

Time to play the technical brain game. I squared my shoulders and looked up into his eyes. If I can't lie through my teeth then I'm a monkey's uncle.

"Let's think about this for a minute," I said, like I was a major philosophy professor and he the student.

"I don't have time," he retorted, his face darkening a shade.

"Okay, for a second, then," I said in a rush. God, I was a puddle of gooey mess. My feet were about to give way. "Just give me a second to explain myself."

"Your second's up. Bobby, take her outside."

"Wait!" I halted him, putting up my hands. "Stop being so impatient and let me explain. If you kill me now, how are you going to know my pa's location?"

He paused.

I smirked.

I finally had him in the palm of my hand. I knew I was the smart one. There was no doubt about it now. Only a smart girl like me could get out of this situation alive.

"I know he'll contact me sooner or later." I continued, gaining confidence when the big boss still stood listening. "So, don't you think you should keep me alive, just so Pa can contact me?"

He stared at me for a minute too long. I only prayed to God he would relent.

"Bobby, take her outside. And finish her quick."

"What? Why?" I asked in panic. "Didn't I just say Pa's going to contact me? If you finish me off now, how are you supposed-"

"If I want to know where your old man's gone to, I have my own methods. I don't need to keep your annoying mouth here. So annoying. Bobby. Take her."

"Yes, boss."

Crap, I'm in deep shit. No, wait. This is worse than shit. I'm in deep pooh.

"You can't. You just can't. I said I'm willing to do anything. I'll be your maid, clean your room, cook you food. I'm good at cooking."

"I've got plenty of maids. I don't need another one. Go, get out." He tossed me to the side like I was piece of garbage, but I clung to his leg for dear life. I wasn't going to die yet. I hadn't even been kissed yet, let alone had a boyfriend. Even if it was just for a minute or two minutes or two hours, I was willing to grasp his pants so I could stay alive.

I didn't want to die. I knew I didn't want to, but Leonardo was stronger as he lifted me and pushed me off him. But one thing he didn't know about me was I was resilient. No amount of struggling and tugging could peel me off his pants. I stuck to him like glue.

"I'll do anything," I cried and begged; just to extend my life. "Cooking, cleaning, even making coffee. I'm the best at making coffee."

There was a pause and his body went still. Have I got his attention?

"Good coffee?" It was Bobby who spoke. He must have had enough of my wailing and strangling his boss' pants. "If boss wants coffee, he would've-"

"Hush!"

That came from Leonardo. Bobby stopped his blabbering. I let Leonardo's pants go and looked up at his towering figure.

"You sure you make really good coffee?" Leonardo asked.

I nodded and stood. "Of course." I boosted myself. "I won the barista award for two years in a row. I worked in a café my whole life. Of course I know how to make coffee. And once you've tasted it, you'll become addicted to it like cocaine. Not that I ever tried cocaine of course. That's just for comparison."

"Hmm," Leonardo said, staring at me while tracing his lips. "The coffee sounds tempting." Then he turned to Bobby. "Test her. If her coffee tastes good, then keep her and let her be in charge of the coffee making."