5.

Hannah

The seductive scent of pine and whiskey fill my lungs, accompanied by dreadful footsteps I know are coming in my direction, but I fold my lips, lowering my head, just in case I'm not the object of focus. But just like I feel it in my guts, I'm not surprised when I feel his presence right in front of me. I am, however, shocked to my toenails when he peels the blindfold from my eyes and it seems I'm staring at the devil himself.

My heart stops, and my limbs and arms are too weak to respond to me, but my mouth isn't.

"It's you!" I blurt out, which I realize is the worst thing I could've done in such a situation.

My body seems to understand the situation now and suddenly my arms move, slapping my bloodied, bound hands across my lips in shock and embarrassment at my own actions.

Mr. Green-eyes, I confirm now, isn't someone who should be trifled with, and if his dark eyes and smile doesn't tell you that, then the way he's dressed; in a pair of black pants and a matching black dress shirt with the sleeves folded to his forearms, and few buttons undone, showing off firm and hard—

I halt my line of thought when the chilling sound of his chuckle settles in the pit of my stomach, and I register my surroundings.

"We meet again, Princess." His voice is just as I remember it, deep, calm and sensual, and I realize it's because he's not talking to me, but to my lips, since his dark eyes don't look up from them.

"I don't know why I'm here," I point out, my voice shaking. "I just wanted to help that man cause I promised I would,"

He raises a brow.

"Help him cause you promised you would? So you know him and you're working with him?"

My heart sinks to my stomach upon hearing those words. Is he being for real?

"I don't know who that man is!" My voice is more high pitched than usual, an evidence of my growing frustration.

"Ah, Princess, but you just said you promised to help him," he rises from his crouched position and pulls out a cigarette packet from his pocket with a lighter.

"I—I mean, yes,"

"Yes you're working with him? I'm quite disappointed because you don't seem like the type," he frowns then takes out a stick, puts it in his mouth and lights it.

This time I'm fully aware of the tears that pool in my eyes and fall freely down my face in hot streaks.

"I swear on my life I don't know what you're talking about. I saw that man collapse right in front of me. I'm a nurse, and when something like that happens I don't just run away. I didn't even know he was shot until I reached him. Please spare me, I didn't know he was on the run."

My chest tightens after forcing those words out amidst the tears.

"I also put all these people in trouble because I called the ambulance. I'm so sorry."

Mr. Green-eyes scoffs as though he couldn't have heard something more cliche, but he indulges me by crouching down again, holding my gaze. The smell and fumes of the cigarette surrounds us, but the smell of him engulfs me.

Lifting his hand, he fingers a loose tendril of curl from my braids, on my cheek. I pull my face away a little fraction, careful to not let his finger touch my skin. If he noticed, he slid his finger sensually down to my trembling chin, raising my face to his view. His eyes darken, and a shiver runs down my spine in response.

"Così dannatamente bella," he mutters under his breath but I catch it, not sure of what it means. However, I’m sure of its effect on me; my heart is racing, and my face where he’s touching me is sizzling.

“How did you then promise to help him?” His voice is deeper now, huskier too, and even more dangerous; like passing through enemy territory.

“He—” I start, but my breath gets caught in my throat. He doesn’t say a word, and neither does anyone in the large space. They all just stare at me, waiting for me to speak.

“Before he went unconscious,” I sniff, “He made me promise to save him. I couldn’t ignore him so I made the promise and called the ambulance.”

Mr. Green-eyes releases my chin, placing the cigarette on his lips for another drag.

“It seems he desperately wants to live, eh? Don’t you think so?” he asks, not to me, but to his goons surrounding us. They nod and laugh, each expressing their agreement with him, whose eyes never leave mine.

“He must have something he so desperately wants to save. And since he owes me too fucking much, he truly needs to remain alive.”

I blink, a drop of tear falling from my eye as I do. So the injured man owes Mr. Green-eyes. I exhale. At least the man will get to live. Right?

“While we’re on the topic, who shot him?”

The warehouse goes dead silent until one of the hefty men from earlier steps forward.

“Forgive me, Capo. I was trying to stop him from running away.”

Mr. Green-eyes takes in a sharp long breath, then his eyes settle on me again.

“It is settled then. Release the paramedics and send them home,” he says to the men, “and as for you, you have to fix the mess you created.”

From that statement alone, I know I’ve inherited a debt that has nothing to do with me. A debt I’m not even sure I can repay.

“Always learn to mind your business,” the caretaker at the orphanage, Sister Margaret, used to say when I was much younger. “It pays to mind your business, as you will find curiosity is expensive to pay.”

I remember repeating those words after her whenever she said them, as a fun way of mockery, because I’d heard those words too frequently.

One would think given how smart I am, I would’ve taken those words to heart and learned from them, yet here I am in an impossible situation, where there’s no one else to blame but myself and my curiosity.

More, fatter and hotter tears spill from my eyes, uncontrollably now.

“Ricardo, take her. Send her to the house,” he says, and one of the men I don’t recognize step forward with a nod.

“Wait! Please don’t take me, I’m innocent. I don’t know who that man is! I’m innocent!” I cry, but my cries fall on deaf ears. Ricardo doesn’t seem to have the time for my bullshit, bundling me in his arms as he carries me out of the warehouse.

In the car, he blindfolds me again and totally ignores my existence. He doesn’t mind that I’m screaming my lungs out and threatening to attract attention that could put him behind bars, he doesn’t also mind that I’m hitting my shoulder and arms against the car door to confuse him.

To him I don’t exist, and coming to terms with that made the journey just as horrifying, because this man doesn’t care about being discreet, and I’m not sure what kind of future awaits me.

After driving for what seems like a thousand years, the car finally comes to a halt, and I brace myself, because for all I know, I could be dragged into a lion's den. Literally.

Ricardo doesn’t say a word as he pulls me out of the car, leading me to only Christ knows where, and after walking for a short while, we arrive at a small room with a single bed, like a room for a criminal. I know this because he’s peeled the blindfold from my eyes, and I’m staring at the room with disdain.

“Capo will be here soon. Make sure to be on your best behavior and do whatever he asks you to do without protest.”

He could’ve just told me they brought me here to kill me instead.

I part my lips to protest, but I swallow the words back because I know Ricardo won’t bother to listen to me, if the bored look in his brown eyes is anything to go by. I sit on the small bed, while tears are still pouring out of my eyes, ignoring the smell of fresh paint and iron in the room.

My mind begins to feed me all kinds of strange theories about the smell of the room, which I ignore for my own good, yet my heart doesn’t stop pounding.

How did I end up like this? In a small room in what seems to be in the middle of nowhere, without my phone and any way to reach the outside world, with my tote bag and its contents sprawled on the wooden floor from when Ricardo threw it in. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I thought of this city and moving here. I try to hold back my tears, but I can’t believe I’m regretting it and wishing I was still with Connor. At least with him I was safe.

“No!” I shake my head, halting my thoughts right there, deciding instead to fall into an abyss of spelling out medical terms too keep my mind busy and my head leveled until a short while later when I hear footsteps from outside the door, and an annoyed voice barking orders outside.

I take a deep breath knowing the time to know my fate has come, and I prepare myself for when the door is pulled open, revealing Mr. Green-eyes.

His dark eyes trace every inch of me, as if to confirm if I’m in any discomfort, then he nods.

“Follow me,” he says simply, his eyes hard, and I do; up a short flight of stairs and into what looks like a…

“What’s going on?”

Mr. Green-eyes turns to face me with a dark smile.

“This is where you’ll work from now on, and your job?” he arches a brow. “Make good on your promise and ensure Giorgio doesn’t die.”

My stomach drops and my eyes widen.

I don’t need him to tell me he’s talking about the man that put me in this situation. I mean I wanted to treat him, but this is not how I wanted to do it.

“I hope you know that your freedom is tied to your performance. He lives? you earn your freedom. He dies?”

I already know what comes next before he says it.

He dies, and I’m as good as dead.