Mommy reminder

“On behalf of Dominique Clyde?” one guy among them reiterates, rendering my words a thing of joke. Of course, I must look like a kitty thrown into a pack of wolves; I look helpless and probably frail to him. Scumbag, I curse under my breath.

Still, his gaze sizes me up and down like a scanner, and the knots in my stomach tighten.

Another guy whispers something to him within a second, and they share a smirk and focus their gaze back on me. “Come with me,” the scumbag said to me, and I let out a faint half-smile.

We walk across. The atmosphere smelled like sweat mixed with body fluids, cigarettes, expensive alcoholic drinks, and the like.

Nothing I'm used to. Even the parties that Daph and I go to are mainly dance parties and not a stripper club or something like this at all.

We walk past a group of naked women curled on a scaffold, caressing their bodies and going as far as pleasuring themselves while anyone could watch. I wonder how these women flaunt their flaunts around these dangerous men without being scared; they do it without an ounce of it even.

We finally reach the VVIP lounge, and my eyes catch the man I have sighted before, Don Vittorio.

Gosh, he looks too familiar to me. I am certain that I have seen a photo of him, maybe a younger version, or could it be simply a doppelganger? Each of us has one, right?

“Wait!” The scumbag blocks my way with his hand as he moves closer to where Don Vittorio is sitting and talking to someone else, who looks more in his range and not a guard.

After a few seconds, the scumbag beckons at me, taking my purse as my face squeezes.

“Are you mad at me for taking your purse? Should I be worried?” The man lets out, making my skin float right back into place.

And of course, I'm neither a killer nor even on that type of mission.

“You can talk to him now, but you have only a few minutes!” The scumbag says to me, and I nod.

I love further to the couches, my breathing hitching slightly, my legs barely carrying me, and I look like a fucking snail on the run.

Once I'm finally very close to the couch, I interrupt nicely.

“Don Vittorio?” I say, and his poisonous gaze meets mine at first, and then it softens somehow.

Oh no, that was not the first impression I had in mind. I expected that he would yank me on the chair and scare the shit out of me.

“Why are you looking for him?” The other man asked before the Don himself could speak.

“Please, excuse us!” the Don stated as the man hesitantly rose, adjusting his necktie, and scampered away.

Don Vittorio tapped the space for him for me, and I scarily sat.

“Are you Sara’s daughter? He rushed to ask, his gaze deeply roaming all over my body. It is not in a seductive or lustful way; it is just in a surprised and compassionate way.

“I—I don't know who Sara is,” I snap, my words almost scrambling, swallowing hard, unconsciously rubbing my neck.

“Oh, striking resemblances to… Sara!” He says, and I just form a faint smile while he keeps staring, starving for at least an ounce of truth.

He beckons at the guard, and they exchange a few words that are inaudible to me, and he lets the guard go.

Truth be told, my mother's name is Sara, but I am definitely not the Sara's daughter he is talking about. My mother knows nothing about the Mafia or anything related; my fucking father left when I was way younger than I can remember. So, I have only known her and no one else. That's that. There's absolutely a misunderstanding here.

“Do you want a drink?” He offers.

“No, sir! I'm fine, thank you!”

“Not even juice? I promise it would be opened right here if you are scared that I would poison you—”

“I am… very okay. Thanks again,” I gently cut in, and he backs off. What's with the niceness, by the way? It's not like this ‘critically dangerous organization,’ as my boss would refer to it, is not full of sheep. These are wolves, for heaven's sake.

My fingers dance on my thighs, wondering if I should proceed and get this over with.

“Why have you come?” He snaps, and his gaze becomes very profound and hard.

“I come with a message from… Dominique Cly—”

He punches the glassy table before I can finish, making me jolt on the seat, recoiling in my skin and whimpering.

“That fucking fool sent you?” He questions me, and I scarily nod. Fear ramping up my skin like a second outfit. But his frown is thick, and the compassionate man in him disappears immediately. I didn't bargain for any of this, I tell myself, trying to be brave for a situation that I didn't sign up for. My eyes start to ache, and my face heats up, suddenly feeling so much heat.

“Don Vittorio,” let's get this over with. “He wants to strike a deal with you, and I have no idea what it is. I'm only working as his P.A. I don't know what it is or why he sent me. Please just… let me go, and I'll be out of your hair instantly…” I plead, tears cramming the corners of my eyes while he watches me.

“Oh no, por favor, Sara.” The man places his strong hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. With all I've seen, I can't trust him. I'm not dumb. “I won't hurt you; I only got pissed about him. He did something terrible to me, and he didn't have the balls to face me except by using you…” he says and takes off his hand when he notices that I'm uncomfortable.

Gosh, this man is complicated. He looks like he's in his early sixties, but he feels strong for his age. The gray hairs sold him out.

“By the way, I know that you shouldn't be here. I see it in you; you are not like him or us. Don't worry, Sara, I'll have my men escort you out of here without being touched. Okay?” He assures me, and I nod instantly, interlacing my fingers while my body shivers.

Why does he keep calling me Sara, knowing fully that I spoke against it?

He beckons the guard again and whispers something really quick and retracts, their gaze on me now.

“He will escort you out until you are comfortable walking on your own. Take care, Sara!” He adds, and I rise and nod thankfully before leaving.

Again, he called me Sara? First it was ‘Raven’ from my boss, now ‘Sara’ from another boss?

Along the line, I was handed back my purse, although I could still feel the eyes of Vittorio on me.

Once we are totally out of the lounge area and now in the midst of the elite crowd, the guard asks if I can fit her alone, and I nod a yes.

“Thank you!” I add. He is about to leave but halts to say something to me.

“Be careful with these men, especially Dom. Girls like you aren't safe!” He says, his voice sleek and calm, a contrast to his demeanor that spelled danger.

While I walk, I start to ponder why he tells me to be careful with Dom specifically. Who is my boss, actually? Is there something I have yet to uncover? I ask myself, and I bump into a strong, broad chest, and my gaze looks up to find Dimitri.

It was odd. I know it. I can feel it. But… no, nothing. Nothing at all.

He helps me stand on my feet properly.

“You wander too much, scared cat. The boss has asked me to take you back home, and he will go to meet with Vittorio. Good job…” he said, wrapping a hand harshly around my arm. Once he tries to understand my situation, and another time he is being himself. Rude.

“What did that man tell you that made you lose yourself while walking?” He questions me; the familiar frown returns to his face again.

That's the Dimitri I know.