Chapter 2- Hate At First Sight

Chapter 2

ALLESIA

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What kind of man offers a girl such an outrageous amount of money just to get into her pants on their first meeting, a professional meeting at that? Of course, it had to be a crooked billionaire like Russel Mancini.

And so it was hate at first sight between us.

I had sworn never to see his impassively stupid face again, and I hoped to God our paths would never cross again. I mean, on my part, he'll never see me outside the four walls of this place, so where else would he get the chance?

He can go to hell and shove his dirty money up his ass.

I returned to the bar where I worked later that evening, still sulking. I scoffed as his name found its way back into my mind. Russel Mancini was the kind of danger I was running from. Aside from his money, his personality had a dark, unsettling aura that made me so uneasy around him.

No one had ever made me that uneasy. It was the kind of unease that sits low in the stomach and refuses to leave, the way a body knows to keep its distance from something with teeth long before the mind catches up.

"How was it?" Elletra, my best friend who had pushed me into this mess in the first place, inquired with a grin when she spotted me.

"You sent me to the lion's den with those ridiculous ass questions, didn’t you?"

Elletra pouted. "I'm sorry, Les. I thought you knew." She dramatically examined me, spinning me in a full 360. "At least he didn't try anything stupid. Did you get the answers?"

Elletra reached for the pad in my hand, but I quickly swatted her hand away. "I managed to get three answers from him. But I must warn you, stay away from that man if you love your life. He's as dangerous as you imagined, and even worse."

"What do you mean?"

Before I could answer again, Renzo, my elder brother, the manager here, walked over to us and heaved a sigh of relief on spotting me. "Glad you're back. Come help me in the mini bar."

I gave him a curious frown. "What's with all the cleaning and stuff?"

"We are expecting VIPs tonight."

My eyes lit up. VIP guests meant more customers, and more customers meant tips. "How many of them? Do we have enough drinks up there?"

"Pablo made a list of drinks we'd need for the cocktail. Come see if there's anything you'll need to add."

I gave Elletra a look that told her we would continue our conversation later, before following my brother out.

An hour later, several exotic cars streamed into the compound in numbers; our VIP guests were obviously already arriving. The first thing I noticed was how incredibly black and expensive each of those cars looked.

God help me, I might get enough tips to pay for my mum's medication this week in just one night.

Six cars!

Each door opened, and one after the other, six men dressed in black tailored suits stepped out of each car.

I was still wondering why a man would dress in a black suit for a night out with friends when all six of the men rounded each car to its passenger door and opened it.

I was trailing my eyes from car to car to take in every detail of our VIP guests without even realizing that my mouth was hanging open.

Anyone with eyes could tell exactly who these men were with a single glance. That money could not be legal. One of them, in particular, wore sunglasses.

Who uses sunglasses in the evening? Pfft.

He was the only one without a jacket among them, I noticed, and unlike the others, he took a minute longer to observe the bar. I also noticed how his right hand was tucked at the side of his belt, like he was concealing something there.

A gun, perhaps?

There was something about the stillness of him, even from this distance, that made the back of my neck prickle. The others moved like men who wanted to be looked at. He moved like a man who didn't care whether anyone looked at all, which, infuriatingly, made it impossible to look away.

"A bug could fly right into your mouth." Renzo teased before disappearing.

It took an effort for me to drag my eyes away from that man, and I was thankful that he had not seen me gawking at him. Dragging my feet, I made my way back to the bar to carry out Renzo's order.

"Well, what's going on out there?" Elletra asked as soon as I came in.

I took a deep breath. "Apparently, the company we were expecting turns out to be the mafia."

"What? Did Renzo know?"

"With the excitement I saw on his face, I think the idiot is in on it already."

Elletra sighed. "What can I say? We all need the money."

I scoffed. "Dirty money."

By the time I reached the VIP, the men had already taken their seats. I had let my hair down so they'd see as little of my face as possible. From a vantage point, I counted twelve of them before I even got there. Renzo had already arranged their glasses, so I just kept my face down as much as I could.

"Need company?" Renzo asked them.

"Well, would you rather be giving me a lap dance?" a voice retorted.

Ewww.

I looked up the moment I heard that voice, and that was a mistake, because my eyes locked with its owner immediately.

Bloody hell! Talk about bad luck!

"I'll get them," Renzo answered with an obedient smile before disappearing into the bar, leaving me there to face them.

Oh, God. Russel Mancini.

So it was true, after all. He was a criminal and a man-whore.

This was a terrible idea, I thought miserably as I saw the note of recognition suddenly registering on his face. As it did, a proud smirk crossed his features. He leaned back in his seat, took a long drag from his cigar, and puffed out the smoke, watching me through it like he had all the time in the world and intended to spend every second of it on me.

"The blonde." His voice was rough and low as he nodded towards me while talking to the handsome guy sitting beside him.

"What?" the guy asked, his eyes tracing from me to Russel and back. "You know her?"

"That was the blonde I told you about, the one from the interview earlier."

"Oh."

His friend's mouth was still hanging open as he looked me up and down, until I cleared my throat and turned to leave.

"Come back." Russel called, and I rolled my eyes before turning to him with a polite smile. "We will be needing more drinks, angel."

"S–ure. I'll get them." I mumbled before turning on my heels.

Why was I even stammering? And why was he staring at me like I was his prized possession?

Angel? He was calling me that again. My skin did something traitorous at the word, something I refused to acknowledge, because acknowledging it would have meant admitting he could get to me at all.

God help me, I had sworn we'd never meet again. This was risky business, but I knew my brother was looking forward to the money he would be getting, so to him, the risk was worth it.

If only I had known this earlier!

By the time I returned with five more bottles, I was disgusted to find a group of female strippers strolling into the VIP. The minute the men saw them, their faces lit up. They cheered and stretched out their hands for the girls to take.

I paused by the door and stared at Russel in particular, but almost at the same time, his eyes met mine, and he winked. I quickly doubled my steps and brought the drink to their table. I placed the drink there, but I did not go immediately.

Instead, I stood by the door on the pretext of waiting to see if they'd need anything else, and stole glances at the devil.

Just then, a girl came around and started giving Russel a lap dance. She was rocking against him and he was mouthing at her in all the wrong places, her boobs, her butt, all while blowing smoke from the cigar into her face. I hated that I noticed the way his hands stayed loose and almost bored on her waist, like she was furniture he'd already grown tired of. I hated more that some small, stupid part of me was relieved by that.

I felt a light tap on my shoulder and nearly jumped out of my skin, but it was just Renzo. "You seem to be having fun."

I gave him a glare, but my eyes were still straying towards the VIP. "Maybe next time you think of hosting criminals, you might want to give me a heads-up."

"This tantrum is exactly what I was avoiding."

"One of us in a body bag is what we've been avoiding for years," I reminded him. "Think about that."

"Now you sound like a grandmother with only one grandkid."

I scoffed. "Are you listening to yourself? We are still on their wanted list, Renzo. What's the harm in wanting to lead a normal life?"

He patted me lightly on the shoulder. "These guys are not street players. They can protect us." I scoffed, but he pointed towards the VIP. "Look at that one there, the one with the shirt." He pointed to Russel. "He's the Capo of the Cosa Monsoni. He is also Don of Region Mafia Men, head of all the powerful crime families. Now imagine what it would feel like to be under his protection."

How about you imagine what it would feel like to be his enemy? Dead.

"They are dangerous," was all I could say. "Don't get involved with them, Renzo. We don't need that kind of smoke, not with Mum's weak heart."

Before he could answer, the attention bell in the VIP rang, and Renzo mumbled, "I can take care of myself."

I stood there longer and continued watching. Two more guys had arrived and were now taking their seats.

My eyes met Russel's, and he smirked, slow and unbothered, like he already knew exactly how long I'd been standing there pretending not to look.

With a snort, I stalked out of there. I went back to the bar, but Elletra was gone, so I decided to close for the day. Working late was not exactly part of my job description, so Renzo could handle the rest.

I made my way into the dimly lit hall leading towards the back door, away from those disgusting bastards.

But just as I rounded the corner, I walked straight into a rock-hard wall. When did a wall grow there? Except it wasn't a wall. It was a man. The last man I wanted to see. Russel.

"This is off-limits for customers." I pointed out in visible annoyance.

He ignored my tone. "Is it?" He was leaning against the wall, one leg crossed over the other and his hand clamped in his trouser pocket like he owned the place. My eyes traveled up until they met his, oceanic green and glowing even in the dark. They pierced straight through whatever composure I'd been holding onto, and for one humiliating second I forgot I was supposed to hate him.

"You're not supposed to be here."

"And it's rude to sneak away before your guests," he responded in the same tone.

"If you try to do anything, I'm going to scream, and trust me, there's a good chance your balls will never survive an attack from my shoes."

His lips curled into a smile. "Witty, I see." He made a mock clap, then gave me a thoughtful look. "I think we've met before, haven't we?"

"I don't."

"Oh? That's weird, because I never forget a face. Let's see, Miss 'chances are very unlikely, you'll be disappointed.'" He was mimicking me, and that made me blush. Traitor of a face, blushing for a man I'd sworn to hate on principle alone. "Turns out miracles do happen, after all. I mean, I didn't even have to try."

I did not know if I should run or scream. I had hoped to God that he would forget everything about meeting me earlier, but it looked like our conversation was still evergreen in his mind, and worse, that he intended to keep it there.

Surely he should have enough whores to fuck to keep him busy enough to forget me?

"I don't know what you're talking about." I made to pass, but his hand on mine stopped me.

“Pretending, I see.” There was a smile in his voice that I ignored.

“I’m very tired and I’d like to go home, if you don’t mind.”

“By all means,” he stepped aside. “I’m busy tonight, anyways, and I don’t want any of my boys gawking at you.”

I didn’t know what he meant by that, but I didn’t wait to find out.

“Wait,” his voice stopped me in my tracks.

I held my breath.

I couldn't exactly see his face, but I could tell he was smiling. "Here." He brought out a bundle of notes, took my hand, and placed the money in it. "I tip all my workers, and you impressed me. So it's yours."

My eyes rounded in their sockets. "I– I don't need your money."

Who was I kidding?

He ignored that. "The offer I made earlier is still on, Allesia. And there's more where that came from."

He was walking away before I even had the chance to shove the money back into his hand, leaving me standing there in the dark with a fistful of cash and the distinct, infuriating feeling that I had already lost something I hadn't agreed to bet.