Chapter 6- His Angel

There was something about him. Maybe it was the hard, sculpted lines of his face which was just as cold as it was hot. Or maybe it was the way he came in quietly, methodically, like he was stalking prey, locking the door as soon as he walked inside and standing before it, letting me know that if I plan to escape, I will have to go through him, and I definitely didn't want that. Maybe that was it. It might also be his dark eyes- as beautiful as they were soulless… eyes that looked like a chasm that ended nowhere, pulling me deeper and deeper into the depths. Whatever it was, as soon as he entered the room, it had all my attention, and it didn't let go. 

Not like I liked it. "And who the fuck are you?" I snap.

"Leone. Fucking. Andreotti." He heads for my bedside and I am instinctively motivated to retreat until my back is against the head rest. "The one who fucking owns your life."

The dread that fills me as he advances, keeps me in place, else, I should be crawling up the wall, especially now that he is standing directly before me.

He knows, I realize. He definitely heard of the little disrespect- probably from the other guy that was in my room earlier- and of course, he doesn't like it. Well, if I knew that this was what he looked like, I wouldn't have dared insult him in the first place. I have self-preservation instincts too, and this man has the aura of Hades himself. While those dark eyes are beautiful for reasons I cannot even begin to explain, death seems to live in them. Without being told, I know he has the blood of lots of people on his hands. 

And he's supposedly my boss... What exactly I do for him, I don't know yet, but that doesn't give him the right to tell me he owns me.

I gulp, summoning my courage from the hole in my head where it had previously gone to hide until things settle. I try my best to pull it out and get my parts functioning again, but honestly, I can barely think with the way this man is so close to me, like he might snap my head in a second, or worse, kiss me. Death, both ways, because while the first is for-sure extermination, my attraction for this man is potent enough for me to fear for my life. Proving it will only just drop me down a spiral that I know I won't be able to escape from. Him. I won't be able to escape him.

I raise my knee up to my chin, creating a barrier in the tiny space between us as I lean back against the headrest, gripping the sheets below me with tight fists. "No man fucking owns me," I bite out of my mouth.

His brows are raised, and he definitely looks amused, yet there is no smile. What appears on his face is the kind of a countenance a cat would embody when toying with a mouse whose tail was in its grip, as it watched said rodent try to run away yet end up rebounding; back to the predator.  

My life now in four simple words. Tom and fucking Jerry. 

And now that he is so close, every detail I had seen when he stood by the door is sharper now, darker up close, waking up all the wrong sorts of reactions from me. 

Leone… Andreotti.

He's the kind of man that lets you know that the devil isn't really a short creature with red skin, a pitch fork, Cheshire-cat smile and horns. Not really. He's a six-foot-three Greek god with thick brows, deep-set eyes, and a well-trimmed full beard, complete with sideburns. He has full lips- the sexiest I have ever seen on a person- with irises that seem like they never truly reach the edge of his lower lids- not completely... giving him a totally surreal look, so irresistible it is dangerous. 

And now, said features are turned to me. "I was told that you hit your head quite badly in the last mission, so I'll jog your memory a little bit," he says. "Let's start with the story of how you sold your life to me."

I did? I mean, Agent Thirteen did? And to a man like this? God, I'm dead. 

"Do you remember the contract, Thirteen? Do you recall the day you had fucking begged to join the Dollhouse; pleaded to become one of my assassins, to be freed of my hold on your life only after you had scored me a hundred kills, as with all the others? Do you?" I don't remember and it is obvious, but he ignores me, continuing. "Well that is why I never pulled the plug even when you went under for months. Because I fucking own you, Thirteen, down to your very soul."

I shake my head. "No. No. Please, I want out."

His eyes narrow slightly, and I hear him breathe a single word out. 'Fuck.' And now I can't get it off my mind.  

"Beg again."

Fucking narcissist.

But I don't mind pleading again if it gets him to reconsider the contract in the end. "Please. I don't know what I was thinking when I signed that contract, but I don't want it anymore. I want it terminated."

Something glints in his eyes even though the rest of him is stone, and I don't miss the way his Adam's Apple bobs as he swallows. My eyes are on it, and on his neck and collar where tattoos are peeking from his tieless shirt, with the first two buttons undone. Yet even without touching, I feel the hardness of his muscular body, the toned ridges of his torso, the broadness of his chest like I just became his second skin. 

He leans in closer and it's my turn to gulp. "You are down to ten kills, Agent Thirteen, and until you reach a hundred, you are mine, begging or not."

He pulls back, headed for the door and outrage shines in my eyes, very nearly blinding me. How dare he? I fucking begged. Maybe he doesn't know this, but I am not used to pleading, especially when it has to do with inflating a man's ego. Leone made me believe he would terminate the contract if I begged, and then went on to humiliate me after I did by not cancelling the stupid contract. I am so incensed I can barely concentrate right now.

But even I know that this is not the moment to rain vituperations down his way, with the most colourful swearing I can muster. He might just kill me, and who knows who's body my crazy spirit would possess next? With the way things are going, I won't be so surprised if I wake up in the body of some slave in the medieval times. I'd just let the plague take me... 

Hence, I don't go with the insults like I planned. I know he has a huge ego, so I strike at that.

"An all-female assassin's guild, huh?" I say, making him pause in his stride. "I didn't know you were so weak that you needed women to defend you."

He turns.