7. You’re Playing With Fire

ROCCO

She let out this long sigh and made this over-the-top disappointed face. I looked down, watching the freckles on her cheeks and that auburn hair—almost red—catching the light. Fuck. This woman's beautiful no matter what.

She noticed.

The corner of her mouth lifted. Slow. Teasing.

"What?" She tilted her head, playing innocent. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Like what?"

"This..." Her fingers traced something in the air between us. "Like you're not sure if you're gonna kiss me... or kill me."

My jaw tightened.

"If you knew what was going on in my head..." My voice came out rougher than I meant it to. "You wouldn't play with me like this."

I shouldn't be looking at her like this. Those brown eyes locked on mine, her lips parted just enough to pull me in like a magnet.

Shit. What the fuck am I thinking? She's Don's sister.

I ran that through my head like five times. Didn't help. At all.

A loud noise snapped me out of it.

"Was that your stomach?" I asked.

Diana's cheeks went pink. She looked away.

"No, it wasn't," she lied.

"You're hungry."

"I'm fine."

Another growl.

"Yeah, okay. Let's grab something while we wait for the pilot."

She crossed her arms. "You don't have to."

"Diana. I can hear your stomach from here."

"Please?" she said softly.

I laughed and started the car.

"Can it be somewhere simple?" she asked.

"Sure... what'd you expect, a Michelin-star place?" I smirked. "Best I can do is McDonald's."

Her eyes lit up. "They have McDonald's in Spain?"

"It's a global chain. Of course they do."

"I've never been."

I stopped the car. Dead.

"What do you mean you've never been?"

"I'm Italian, remember? In Sicily we ate real food."

"McDonald's isn't real food?"

She laughed. "You're such an asshole, you know that?"

"Yeah. I know."

I pulled into the drive-thru. She ordered a Big Mac, large fries, and a McFlurry. I got coffee.

She tore into that burger like it was her last meal—ketchup smeared on the corner of her mouth, licking her fingers without a care in the world.

"This is so good... It's been so long. At the convent, we didn't have this. Everything was... very healthy."

I just watched her. Like she was discovering the world for the first time.

When she caught me looking, I glanced away fast. Took a sip of coffee and burned my tongue. Fuck.

I heard her soft laugh, but I didn't look at her.

After that, we headed to the airport.

When we got back, the co-pilot was still on the phone.

Fuck. Two hours.

"Wait in the car," I told Diana.

"Okay."

I got out of the Maserati and walked toward the plane.

"What the hell's going on?" I growled.

"The pilot canceled, sir. I don't understand it." He was visibly nervous, phone still in his hand. "He said he had a family emergency, but..."

"But?"

"But it doesn't add up. We flew together yesterday and everything was fine."

Blood pounded in my temples, heat crawling up my neck. Goddamn it. I hate surprises. Before I could respond, I spotted a black car speeding toward us. My instincts kicked in immediately.

Didn't think twice. Pulled two pistols from behind my back and started walking toward the vehicle.

"Sir?" the co-pilot called, but I was already gone.

My mind went sharp. Every step calculated. The car screeched to a halt, and three guys piled out—all armed. They didn't stand a chance. Fast and precise, I dropped the first two before they could even raise their weapons. The third tried to react, but my bullet caught him in the chest. He hit the ground hard.

A fourth man lunged for a machine gun in the back seat. I aimed and fired—the bullet tore through his forehead before his fingers touched the weapon. His body crumpled, blood pooling on the asphalt.

It all happened in seconds, but to me? Time dragged. The smell of gunpowder burning my nostrils. The deafening silence after the shots. The co-pilot shaking and crying, curled up behind the propeller.

I scanned for Diana. Relief hit me—she was still in the car. I moved fast to the Maserati and yanked the door open.

"Get out," I ordered.

She hesitated for a second, her eyes darting from the bodies on the ground to me. Her face was pale, but her eyes... her eyes weren't scared. They were impressed. Fuck. That's worse.

"They came to kill me?" she asked.

"Not sure yet. But we're not sticking around to find out. Now get out."

She obeyed, stepping out and moving close to me. I grabbed her bags from the trunk and walked us over to the co-pilot, who was still hunched over, muttering what sounded like a prayer.

"Get up," I said.

He stood, shaking like a leaf.

"You know how to fly?" My tone made it clear there was only one right answer.

"Y-yes, sir. I can fly." He was already moving toward the cockpit. "I have my license, I... I can do this."

Before he climbed in, I muttered low enough for only him to hear.

"If I suspect one wrong move on the route, you'll wake up in hell. Got it?"

"N-no, sir! I'm here to help! I swear on God, on my mother, on—"

"Good. Get us in the air. Now." I turned and headed inside the plane.

Diana settled into one of the seats. I spotted the flight attendant at the back of the aisle.

"You're dismissed," I said. No time to explain.

She didn't ask questions. Practically ran off the plane. I don't need another body to worry about—infiltrator or not. I sealed the door and turned to Diana.

Her face was unreadable. Not scared anymore, but I couldn't tell what she was thinking. I sat down next to her, questions spinning in my head. Who were those men? After her? After me?

"You okay?" I asked, not looking at her.

She didn't answer right away. Instead, she whispered, "You killed four men. In, like... ten seconds."

She went quiet for a moment, like she was processing.

The plane picked up speed on the runway. A few seconds later, we were airborne—leaving the chaos behind, heading home.

Diana leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

"Rocco?"

"Yeah?"

I turned toward her.

She was already looking at me.

Her eyes dropped for a second—lingered on my mouth—before coming back up to meet mine. Slow. Intentional.

"Thank you."

We stayed like that a second too long.

Too long. Her mouth too close... and my head already going places it shouldn't.

I looked away first. Stared out at the dark sky.

Because one thing was crystal clear in that moment...

This woman was going to be my biggest problem.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the job I was given.