หน้าหลัก / Mafia / The Angel's Sin / บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

บททั้งหมดของ The Angel's Sin: บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

46

Prologue

Violet eyes met silver ones.And then, the time stopped.You can cut the tension with a butterknife.There was no God in this room.Only a gun.A sinner.And an ‘Angel’.The air in the suite hummed with a silent extravagance—mixed with the smell of sweat and sex.Thick, velvet drapes, the color of plum, were half drawn against the city’s night light.Muffling the sounds of the world outside.It created a suffocating intimacy inside the room.Tony was kneeling. Angel was standing.Eye to eye. Face to face.The sinner was looking up. And the ‘Angel’ was looking down.And the gun?Its muzzle was inside the sinner’s mouth.Being pointed by the ‘Angel’.Fingers were curled in the trigger.They are so close—they could feel the heat of each other’s skin.Can hear each other's breathing.Their heartbeats collided in the space between them.It was so… suffocating…This was the second time tonight that Tony found himself with something shoved past his lips.But this time, it wasn't passion that

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One

Five months ago. Somewhere in East L.A.The last thing Tony remembered was a pair of eyes.Doe-like.Innocent.Shimmering like they’d never seen war.Then pain.Then nothing.He woke up coughing.Heat licking at his skin.He was inside the warehouse.The same goddamn warehouse he and his team had been investigating—for three fucking whole months.Now it was burning.The air was thick with smoke and ash.Flames chewed through steel beams like they were made of paper.His ears rang like hell.His wrists were zip tied.And his face?Pressed to the cold concrete.A brutal contrast to the firestorm around him.‘It’s not been burning for too long then..’ Tony thought, mind racing.He could still smell the perfume on his nose.Faint.Sweet.Burning.“Fuck,” he spat, rolling onto his side, eyes stinging from the smoke.His head felt like it came from being grounded like a beef.He tried to move.Slow and deliberate.Taking a good look around with little movements that he could.And assessing

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Two

Two months later. Florence, Italy.The wine didn't help.Neither did the old stone buildings.The cobblestone streets.Or the way the Italian sun dipped lazily over the Arno River every evening like it had nothing better to do.Orange and gold.He hated how beautiful it was.He felt itchy.Like something inside him wouldn't sit still.Tony still felt the blood on his hands.Even after three showers a day.Even after two months.It left a bitter taste in his mouth.Even when fucking beautiful Italian women.All his injuries had healed—save for his knuckles, always split and raw from punching walls.But the guilt?That didn't scar over as easily.Florence was supposed to be a getaway.A much needed break.A temporary vanishing act—arranged by the six ghosts he used to call his team.Calvin had been the one to book the hotel.Olivia made the itinerary.Peter picked restaurants.And the other three?They promised they’d bring in the ‘fun’.All planned and done before the operation that tu

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Three

Angel’s POVBack when Angel used to come here—years ago—with Federico and Bianca, his childhood friends, they’d once snuck behind the counter.Drunk and laughing.And they had found it.A slim metal door that led to the alley.Half opened.They had been young and stupid back then.And now, he needed that escape route.He pushed the bar’s door open.The soft ring of the bell above him sounded louder than it should have.Only two people were inside.Intimate.Murmuring to each other.And one bartender, wiping some wine glasses.Angel walked straight to the bar.Sat on the tall high chair.His fingers started to tap against the counter.His heartbeat was way too fast.‘I need a drink to calm down,’ he decided.Even though his stomach was tight and coiled like a fist.“Un amaro, per favore (Something bitter, please),” he said to the bartender, voice low.Something tough.Something biting.To help him get a grip.But not potent enough to get drunk.The homey atmosphere inside the bar did n

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Four

Tony shouldn't have followed him.But he did.He didn't know what came over him.‘It was.. an impulse.’No.‘Alright,’ he admitted.He saw something pretty.So, naturally, he followed.‘I’m trash alright.’His hotel room keys jingled in his back pocket.An expensive bottle of wine hung lazily from his left hand.The one he’s been nursing since morning.‘I feel like trash too. This feels shitty.’He took a long swig.Letting it burn down his throat.Wine dripped down his chin.He wiped it off with the length of his forearm like a savage.Then he drank again.‘What am I even going to say?’ he pondered.What does he even want from the pretty boy?A shocking question arose.The only thing he can think off—“Do you wanna sleep with me?’And that’s too direct.But it could work.Or not.Still arguing with himself, he pushed through the door of the bar.A bell rang noisily.Then, there was a shift in the air.Even half drunk, he felt it—the tension.It’s crackling just beneath the surface.A

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Five

The satellite phone wouldn't stop ringing.Shrill. Annoying. Demanding.Tony cursed under his breath.Still sitting on the bed, he snatched the phone off the nightstand and answered.Someone was already yelling on the other end.But Tony’s mind and attention was elsewhere.His eyes were burning holes into the spot where his wallet should have been.The pretty stranger must have taken it.‘I never took him for a thief,’ he thought, his jaw tightening.His fingers ran through his dark disheveled hair as he tried to make sense of it.‘His scent alone probably costs a thousand dollars…’ he tried to sniff the air, involuntarily.‘And those violet eyes—so goddamn beautiful when crying.’ Something stirred inside him.‘And his clothes—designer, it’s expensive as hell.’An expensive, pretty thief.He clenched the phone tighter.Plans were already forming.Tony wasn't just going to find him—he was going to own him.So he better run as far away as he can.‘I love a good chase.’It’s a mad thi

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Six

“Thirty minutes huh?” Tony muttered, slamming the taxi’s door shut.He runs his hand through his hair, full of annoyance.“What? Did they think Piazza Navona was in Florence fucking backyard?” he fumed.He finally opened his wine bottle and took a long swig.“Hah.”He turned around and middle-fingered the taxi driver.Like a real drunkard tourist.“Asshole,” he murmured.‘Much better.’Tony had been itching to open his bottle of wine between transportations, but held back.Every time he glared at his wine, he could feel people side eyeing him on the train.It had taken him an hour and a half, two trains and a pissed off cabbie to get here.‘The fucking Piazza Navonna.’He stumbled slightly as he tried to lean down the taxi’s window.“Carta? Macchina funziona? (Card? Does your machine works?)” Tony shoved his card into the driver’s face.The driver grunted and snatched his card.He knows that the driver was cursing him in every colorful Italian cuss word that the driver knew.But Tony

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Seven

One month later..The car smelled too new.Too clean.‘Too un-Tony.’And he had never felt this so uncomfortable in his entire life.‘It’s itchy.’Adjusting the collar of his white dress shirt with one hand on the wheel, he grumbled.He unbuttoned the ones on the top.Antonio Santa De Leones was making a comeback today—to his dysfunctional family.Armed with a sleek, and new black car.Dressed in a tailored black suit..Matched with polished black shoes.A ‘successful businessman’.‘Not going to a funeral, but it feels like it.’That was his new role.He sighed.Tony had remembered Beth’s instructions a month ago…“Infiltrate your family,” she said like she was reading a goddamn script.“Investigate,” she added, pausing for effect.“Find out all about their business dealings with the Luchese—your family’s rival and business partner.”Beth had stared at him..“Find me concrete evidence. On paper. With a stamp.”She tilted her head. “Something I can use to bring these mafias down…”Her

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Eight

Tony had just stepped inside the dining room.But the tension in the air was already crackling.‘It still smelled like an old wood in here. Nothing has changed.’He proceeded to sniff the air. ‘Ah!’‘A scent of wine!’At the long mahogany table, decked with silverwares, porcelain and bottles of wine, sat his younger brother, Alvaro, Franco and his cousin—Alessandro.‘Fucking Alessandro,’ he thought, while he walk leisurely toward the table.Remembering again, the pretty thief.Tony smirked at his own joke.Then his eyes locked on his target.Their eyes met.“Alessandrino, since when did you earn a seat at this table?” Tony asked.Purposely calling him by the wrong name.He was hoping to rile up the petty Alessandro—the cousin he hated.But Alessandro only matched his smirk.“Antonio..” he trailed, looking at Tony up and down.Measuring him.“You’re still alive I see..” then Alessandro reached for his glass of wine.“I thought you’d finally kicked the bucket, cugino (cousin). Where hav

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Nine

For the first time in Antonio ‘Tony’ Santa De Leones’ life—he had found himself in a real crisis.Bigger than anything he had ever known.The clock struck three in the morning.And he was now sitting at the edge of the guest room’s bed.He refused to sleep in his old room.Not because he was afraid of its ghost—No.He just didn't want to remember anything.The good memories and the bad.And yet here he is, thinking of another memory.Something more urgent.A half empty wine bottle rested on his right thigh.His fingers were loosely wrapped around the neck of it.In his left hand—a half burnt-cigarette.Its ash was dangerously long.Like it was waiting to drop but never did.A proof that Tony hadn't moved an inch ever since he lit it—and he had been like this, frozen, even after throwing the woman out.That same hand was pressed against his temple.Gripping his skull as if to stop his thoughts from leaking out.It’s a real goddamn crisis!The temperature inside the room was just the r

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