Chap 2

Zara's POV

I looked at myself in the mirror one last time. Perfect. Handsome bastard, here I come. I packed my luggage, and damn it, they were too heavy. I had crammed in everything I could think of: outfits for every occasion, a few weapons for protection, lingeries. I needed to be prepared.

A knock came at the door, pulling me from my thoughts. I opened it to see Xander, giving me that infuriatingly charming old smile of his. "Need some help, kid?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. I scoffed, stepping aside to let him in.

He grabbed my luggage like they were made of feathers and carried them down to his car. I followed and we got into the car, and he ignited the fire into the engine.

As we drove, Xander's expression turned serious. "We got a report that he killed thirteen people yesterday."

"What the fuck?!" I screamed, feeling the blood rush from my face. Thirteen! What the actual fuck?! I know I’m not a saint, but that was too much! Like fucking too much! "Are you sure he's really the one that killed them? I mean, they could have died in an accident or a fire or anything," I said, trying to rationalize the horror.

"No, they have the Mafia signature on them," he replied. His tone was grave, and I felt a chill run down my spine. Cassius had a reputation, one that sent shivers through even the most hardened criminals. Anyone he killed bore his signature—a stark letter M etched into their foreheads. It was as if he wanted the world to know who was behind the violence, taunting the authorities who had failed to catch him for five years and counting.

I am an assassin too, but I kill only when sent to do so. I made sure my targets were truly evil, and my killing motives were driven by the bastard who had murdered my innocent parents. Since that day, I had vowed to eradicate all the bad people I ever set my eyes on, and Cassius was next in line.

"This one that you are gritting your teeth—don’t destroy the mission, Zara," Xander said, breaking into my thoughts. I hadn’t even realized I was gritting my teeth in frustration. "Get a lot of information on him before you kill him. You know the only way to get information is by seducing him."

"I know, Xan," I said, forcing the words out through clenched jaws.

"Good, that’s my girl." He flashed a smile at me, and I tried to return it, but it felt forced.

He dropped me at the front of the mansion. As he helped me with my luggage, a bodyguard approached, taking the bags from us. I followed the bodyguard into the elevator, and waved at Xander who waved back. Xander had been like a father to me ever since he took me and my sister in when I was twelve years old, barely two years after my parent's death.

He had witnessed me stab a boy my age who had been harassing a little girl. Instead of turning me in, he took a liking to me and saved me from going to prison, choosing instead to take me with him.

As the elevator doors slid open, Cassius was standing outside, leaning against the wall with a casual air that belied his sharp gaze. He looked at me with an unreadable expression. "Who was the man that dropped you just now?" he asked, his tone casual. I felt like dipping a hand into my suitcase where a knife is and stabbing him right there. This is the same person who had killed thirteen people just yesterday, looking dashingly innocent.

"The man? Your bodyguard, of course," I replied, as I turned to the bodyguard who just dropped my luggage, bowed to Cassius and entered into the elevator immediately.

"I mean, the one that dropped you in a car," he pressed, his eyes narrowing.

"Why do you care?" I shot back, but he simply turned away, walking through the hallway.

"I didn’t know you were into old men," he muttered under his breath.

I could hear you, bastard. I wanted to scream, but I swallowed my anger, dragging my luggage through the hallway behind him. I hated how he could get under my skin so easily.

His house was built like a hotel—really, it was since he brought different women home every night, each one more beautiful and curvy than the last. Zara, how did you know? i screamed internally. But it's obvious, isn't it?

The layout of the house was grand, with one long hallway. At the end of the hall was a large room to the left, and at the right, an equally imposing door that probably led to a large room as well.

"This is your room," he said, pointing to the door on the right. "Come and make a quick meal once you settle down." He handed me the key and didn’t wait for my response before disappearing into the room on the left.

I unlocked the door and stepped inside, my breath catching in my throat. Thankfully, this room wasn’t painted that garish green like the others I had seen. Instead, it was decorated in warm, inviting tones. I gasped as I took in the expansive sitting room, plush furniture.

"This place is insane," I murmured to myself. I wandered further into the suite, marveling at how lavish everything was. The kitchen was stocked with high-end appliances, and the bedroom was larger than my entire apartment back home.

He sure is a fucking rich bastard. Staying here wouldn't be as bad as I had thought.

***

I had been living in this luxurious mansion for two days now, and I had been making sure to cook him the perfect meal. My culinary skills seemed to be impressing him, as I noticed he couldn't get enough of my cooking. I was determined to use this to my advantage.

As I got ready for the evening, I decided to wear something that would catch his attention. I opened my closet and pulled out a pair of bum shorts and a V-neckline crop top that revealed my breast moulds. I checked myself in the mirror, making sure I looked perfect.

I headed out of my room, feeling seductively attractive. It was dark already, the perfect time to put my plan into action. Now, to the mission: seducing the Mafia Lord.

I opened the door without bothering to knock, as I had grown accustomed to doing. And then, I saw him. He was sitting on the couch, shirtless, and my heart skipped a beat. I gulped down my spit, trying to composed myself.

"Can't you knock?" he barked, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

"I'm sorry," I quickly replied, trying to sound as innocent as possible.

He scanned me from head to toe, his eyes lingering on my curves. I could feel his gaze like a physical touch, and I shivered inwardly. Why the fuck is his gaze making you shiver, Zara? Get a hold of yourself.

"Why are you wearing that?" he asked, his tone rising.

"It's late already, so I just decided to quickly come and make you dinner," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant.

He looked away, his eyes fixed on his phone, but I could sense his gaze still on me. I felt a pang of frustration. Why wouldn't he just wear a shirt? Did he want to torture me with his half-naked body? Torture? Zara, do you just say torture? Get the fucking hold of yourself! You are here to seduce him nor the older way round.

I entered the kitchen and quickly made him a plate of spaghetti. I dished it out on the dining table and then went back to the sitting room, where he was still busy on his phone.

"Your food is ready, sir," I said, trying to sound as professional as possible.

He scanned me again, then nodded, and I left his presence to go back to the kitchen. I was starting to get frustrated. This wasn't going as planned. He was supposed to be seduced by now, not still ignoring me. I never dressed up to this that men bowed at my feet.

As I stood in the kitchen, I couldn't help but wonder why he was resisting my charms. Was it because I was his cook? Did he not see me as a woman? Should I have entered his life as a whore instead? Ugh, the thought alone made me shudder.

Just then, he yelled from the sitting room, "Bring a rag and clean this place." I scoffed inwardly. How did a cook become a cleaner? But I didn't say anything, I just picked up a rag and headed towards the sitting room.

As I entered the room, I saw that water had spilled on a low table in front of him. Then, a thought crept to my mind and I bent over the table, making sure my boobs showed in a great amount, as I rounded the table seductively, swaying my hips as well. Then, when I got to his side, I quickly dropped the rag on the floor and pretended to slip, falling onto him.

My boobs hit his bare chest, and my heart raced as I looked up at him. His expression was confusing - anger, annoyance, or was it lust? I couldn't seem to read his expression. But then, his hand went to my boobs, rubbing the visible moulds, and pulling me closer so my boobs were hitting his chest even more. It seemed my plan had been working all along, he was just holding back.

He rubbed my nipple with his thumb beneath the clothes I was wearing. He must have been an expert to know exactly where my nipple was located. I felt a shiver run down my spine as he pinched it with the cloth, and I let out a gasp.

The gasp seemed to awaken him, and he pushed me away almost immediately making my butt hit the couch with a thud. Fuck. Why did he stop? I didn't wanted him to.

"Crystal, you are playing with fire," he growled, his eyes flashing.