BENEATH THE MAFIA'S BULLET

Mirabelle's POV

The wine glass slipped off my fingers before I could even scream. It shattered against the tiled floor of the terrace, but I barely heard it over the sharp sound of a gunshot that echoed from the balcony.

I gasped, eyes wide and my heart pounding. 

The balcony was dimly lit, but I saw a man flat on his face.

And standing over him in a perfectly tailored black suit, cool as midnight sin, was a man, tall, well built and handsome.

He tilted his head slightly. He'd heard the glass break, but he didn't see me.

I pressed my trembling hand on my mouth, as I hid behind a vast flower, my black dress blending with the darkness.

"Oh my God. I'm a witness to murder,” I whispered, as a chill ran down my spine.

It's been a week, and I've almost convinced myself it was a dream.

The steam from the espresso machine hissed, as the bell on the door of the coffee shop jingled constantly. My hands were constantly moving, wiping the counter, taking orders. 

But I held my breath anytime a man in a suit walked past the window. My mind was constantly replaying the scene of what happened in the gala, the man with green eyes watching from the shadows.

“Mira, order up.” Lea’s voice distracted me from thinking further, as I continued taking orders. 

She gave a caramel macchiato to a customer, but her eyes were locked on my face, her eyes wide and dark, holding a question she kept asking with a look.

“Are you okay? Talk to me!” She pushed me a little, while taking orders from customers.

“Lea, I'm fine okay. Don't worry,” I rolled my eyes, while smiling. 

“You didn’t sleep again,” It was not a question. Lea knew my face better than I did. 

She was my best friend, an orphan who carried her solitude like a familiar coat. It made her notice everything.

“I slept fine,” the words were heavy, as I picked up the drink and turned to call out the customer’s name.

The cool morning faded into a warm afternoon, the glow of the sun reflecting warmly into the shop. 

“Maybe he did not care about a server in a black dress holding a tray of empty champagne flutes,” I thought, as my breathing calmed down, a warm smile spreading on my lips.

But my eyes caught a sleek black car packing at the corner of the shop. The windows were tinted so dark they swallowed the light. 

“Are they Police?” I furrowed my brows, looking at the two men that got out of the car. 

“No…no. Police don't wear suits that cost more than my year’s rent,” my eyes were wide, looking at their every move. 

My heart hammered against my chest, as a chill ran down my spine. The saliva in my throat was like a rock with each gulp I took, as the rag in my hand fell to the floor.

“Mirabelle…” Lea whispered, her face pale, while her eyes were locked on the men.

The men entered the shop, the cheerful sound of the bell was now all wrong. They were in a deep frown, one with a scar close to his eyebrow, the other with a broad shoulder. 

Their eyes scanned the shop, passing over the few customers, and landed on me.

They walked towards my direction, each step matching my heart beat, but my feet were glued to the ground. 

“Is it really those men?”

“Miss Mirabelle Brown,” the man with the scar spoke, his voice low and calm which brought a chill down my spine.

It was not a question, I said nothing, my tongue felt thick, as my hands nervously played with my apron strings.

“Our Boss requests your presence.” He said the words boss like it was normal. Like Bosses invited coffee shop servers to their presence every day.

“She's working. You can't just…” Lea stepped slightly in front of me, her voice steady.

“It's not a request, Miss. It's an urgent invitation,” the man's eyes shifted to her, his face empty.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, and who's your boss?” The words came out of my mouth, shaky but clear. I was strong headed, my mother called it my best and worst quality.

The second man, the one with the broad shoulders sighed softly. He leaned forward, placing his hands on the counter, his other hand casually slide my apron strings from my hand.

“Theo Gaspard is our boss and I don't need to remind you what he can do.” 

“Mr. Gaspard prefers to keep this civil. We can leave now, with you…quietly,” he spoke for only me and Lea to hear. 

“Or we can come to your apartment later, your mother is at home, your brother gets out of school at three fifteen. We will have the same conversation then in front of them,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

The air left my lungs. “Theo Gaspard…the billionaire and mafia don. He doesn't shows his face in public and he knew their schedules…he knew where I lived!” 

“This was the choice, but it was not a choice at all, and my only role was to agree,” I bit my lips, as I furrowed my brows together.

I felt a warm hand on my palm under the counter. I knew it was Lea’s.

“Don’t,” she whispered, squeezing my hand a little.

If I said no, they would knock on my door, and my mother would answer, her smile fading. My brother would be terrified. I saw the man with green eyes winning, I saw my family in his place.

I pulled my hand from Lea’s. My movements felt like a marionette.

 I untied my apron, as my fingers fumbled with the knot.

“Mira no!” Lea’s voice was louder, her eyes locked on mine.

“Tell Margot I had a family emergency.” My voice was a stranger’s. I could see the fear in her eyes, but still I folded my apron and placed it on the counter.

The man with the scar gave a single, slow nod, as he stepped back, opening a path to the door.

I walked out from behind the counter. My legs carried me forward. 

All the customers' eyes were on me. “What has she done…ohh! poor girl…she might be a whore who stole something….” The customers whispered among themselves.

The bell jingled again as the second man opened the door for me. The courtesy felt like a mockery.

The car door was already open, the interior was black leather. The scent of expensive perfume filled my nostrils immediately I got in. 

The man with the scar slid in beside me. The other got in the front passenger seat, as the doors shut with a solid, final thud. 

The car pulled away, as the coffee shop window shrank, while I saw Lea’s face pressed against the glass.

We drove in silence, while the city blurred past, tall buildings, people walking past.

I stared straight ahead. My heart was hammering against my ribs, as I tried to breathe slowly and think.

“Theo Gaspard,” the name echoed in my mind, as I remembered his face from the gala. Handsome in a sharp, calm way. 

His sleek hair was pulled back. His green eyes were bored, fixed on the man he killed. 

Afterward, he scanned the hallway, while I hid behind a flower vase. I thought I had hidden in time, I was wrong.

“He

had not forgotten me at all, the man who looked as cool as midnight sin while ending a life was now waiting for me.”