Why I'm in a mall with Niccolò and his credit card? I don't know.

I didn't choose to spend my day like this. Trust me.

Apparently, according to him, we are going to stay in Italy for months. Possibly up till the big ball that MI6 is supposed to arrest him and the mafia at.

Still, I told him I didn't want to go shopping and I didn't want new clothes. In response, he forcefully made me show him my walk-in closet which is basically empty and after that... well, I ended up at the mall so it's obvious who won that conversation.

So now I'm walking around with him and five guards behind us who are holding too many bags to count.

"I hope no one is thinking I'm the wife of a rich CEO or something," I mutter, shaking my head as I try to ignore all the eyes on us.

"I am a CEO," Niccolò replies. Oh, yeah. He is. I forgot he wasn't just a mafia leader.

"But I'm not your wife," I make known, crossing my arms over my chest.

"You're not," he agrees bluntly. Thank God for that.

Not that Niccolò would be a bad husband per se but he seems like he wouldn't pay attention to his wife or show any sort of affection. He only focuses on his work. When he's not at the mafia base, he's at his business.

Looking up, I see my favourite dress store that we haven't been to yet. I didn't even know they had this in Italy. Score.

"Okay, last stop," I say firmly as we walk in. "I promise."

We've been to a lot of stores and to be honest, I somewhat felt bad for Niccolò because number one, I'm spending his money, and number two, he's been following me around all day. Poor guy. But this has made us spend some time together, which is good because the more time he spends with me the more he starts to like me and trust me.

"Like I said, Azaría," he shakes his head with a short chuckle, "you can go to any store you want."

I know but I still can't believe he said that. Does he not care about his money? He has loads, what am I thinking? This is barely making a dent in his bank account.

Oh my God. I don't know if this is a bad thing to think but will I get to keep the clothes after he's arrested...?

Okay, whatever. I'll think about that later...

We step into the store and immediately two workers come up to us. "Welcome, Mr. Alvera," the guy says with a bright smile.

Almost every store that we have gone to, this has happened. "Do you own the mall or something?" I whisper to him playfully.

"I do," he replies with a curt nod. Wait, what? He does? I was just joking. Joking. You know what? I don't know what else J expected.

They offer him a seat and a glass of champagne while I scan the store, searching for a dress to buy.

"There's a winter ball coming up soon," he informs, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

As soon as he says that, my eyes fall onto the most beautiful dark blue, floor-length dress that just happens to scream winter ball.

"This is perfect," I breathe out, my lips tilting up as I pick it up. Okay, now I'm seriously wondering if I get to keep these clothes because of this dress. Wow. Just wow.

I walk past Niccolò who's sat down in front of the changing rooms and get in, closing the curtains. "Found something you like?" he asks.

"Yeah," I breathe out as I get out of my clothes. "It's dark blue. For the winter ball."

"I see," I hear him mutter. "So does that mean I need to get a dark blue suit?"

Wait- what? I open the curtains slightly, only enough to peek my head through. "And why would we be matching, Nico?"

He lowers his head, a smile on his lips as he pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. Ugh, what's so funny?

"You'll see, Ria," he chuckles. "Just wait."

I let out a huff before closing the curtains once again. Azaría, you fucking idiot. This is exactly what I need; remember, the more time he spends with you the better.

I slip into the dress before zipping it up -after struggling, of course- and once I'm done, I stare at the dress in the mirror, running my hands down my body. It fits perfectly.

"You coming out anytime soon?" I hear him ask and I roll my eyes. "No, you can't see," I reply.

"And why is that?"

"Because it's a surprise, you'll see the day of the ball," I tell him.

"Is that so?" he questions and I can imagine the little smirk he has on his face right now.

"Mhm," I hum, turning halfway around to get a look at the back of the dress. It's backless, stopping a few inches before my ass, and yet still looks elegant. I love it.

After admiring it for a few more seconds, I slip out of the dress and back into my clothes. I make sure to fold the dress and keep it hidden under my arm as I step out of the changing room.

He glances at me with a small smile as we head towards the cashier. "What?" I huff, annoyed with the amused look on his face.

"Nothing," he replies, furrowing his brows as if he doesn't know exactly what I'm talking about. Ugh. What is up with him today?

We make it to the cashier but before I hand over the dress, I say, "Turn around."

"What?" he asks, taken aback. "Turn around so you can't see the dress," I tell him. Muttering something under his breath, he turns around just like I asked.

The girl behind the cashier laughs as I give her the dress. "You guys are such a cute couple," she laughs, her Italian accent rolling off her tongue.

"Couple?" The word slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself. Him and I? No. No. No. "We're not a couple. Just... friends, I guess?"

We can never happen. Niccolò and I can never happen. Forget about all the stuff I said about Niccolò being a husband, it's more than that. I'm an agent and have the trust of many higher authorities to gather information on Niccolò Alvera and then arrest him. Me dating him, and falling in love with him, would be the same as betraying my line of work, in other words: my country.

Niccolò's soft chuckle snaps me out of my thoughts. Smiling to herself, the girl hands me over the bag. "That will be two thousand euros, ma'am."

Before I can blink, Niccolò is turned around and pressing his card against the machine. There's something seriously wrong with him. How can one spend their money like that without care? But if I'm being honest, despite all that I have spent today that seems like a lot to me, is nothing to him.

"I've finished," I tell him. After four hours and roaming around this mall to the point where I feel like my ankles are going to break, I've finished shopping.

"You sure?" he asks, looking down at me. Every time I'm beside him, the height difference doesn't fail to shock me. I'm average height, 5'6, so I'm guessing he's around 6'2. Let's not forget that I'm wearing boots right now. Boots with heels. And he's still much taller than me.

"I'm sure," I finally reply. "But after all of that, now I'm starving."

"Let's go to a restaurant then," he doesn't hesitate to offer. A restaurant sounds really good right now if I'm being honest. But my feet are dead. So terribly dead.

"I think I'm too tired," I sigh, rubbing my forehead with my hand. I'd just rather lay on my bed.

"What do you feel like having?" he asks, glancing down at me. Hmm. "Pink sauce pasta," I reply, knowing it's my go-to.

"Okay," he replies simply. Okay? He's confusing. Too confusing for my tired brain to worry about.



Why I'm sitting in the kitchen in my PJs while watching Niccolò cook? No idea. It's shocking me too, I know.

"I seriously would have never guessed that you could cook," I tell him honestly as he mixes the pasta with the sauce.

I watch him carefully like I have been for the past thirty minutes. He has his white dress shirt sleeves rolled up with the first few buttons not done. It's a sight for sore eyes.

Yes, he's my target but only an absolute idiot would deny this man's beauty. He's gorgeous. If he wasn't raised in this mafia world, he could have been a model.

"Here," he offers, handing me a plate of the pasta I asked for. Why he did do this? Also no idea.

It smells heavenly and looks that way too. I dig my fork into the food and take a bite. I would be a liar, straight-up Pinocchio, if I said that wasn't the best pink sauce pasta I have ever tried.

"I'm satisfied," I tell him with a smile and he tilts his head at me before letting out a chuckle.

"Satisfied?" he repeats. "You really are something, Azaría."

"In a good way, right?" I ask before taking another bite. When I said I was satisfied, I meant beyond satisfied. Is pasta better than sex? Seems like it.

"Perhaps," he replies simply, shrugging his shoulders. Yep, like I said, this man is confusing. He talks but not a lot, he never gives out too much.

"I'm just going to pretend you meant it in a good way," I mutter to myself before adding, "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" he asks, leaning into the counter. The way he's doing it makes his biceps turn, the muscles and veins popping at the action.

Focus, Azaría. Right. "For the clothes and well, for this too."

He lowers his head, shaking it as a small smile tugs onto his lips. "No need to say thank you, princess."

"You're never gonna stop with that, huh?" All because I got annoyed when he got blood on my clothes. That apparently makes me a princess.

"You know the answer to that," he says and I do. The answer is never.

"Are you not going to eat?" I ask, realising he's just standing there while I'm digging into the food he made for me.

"I have to head to the mafia base," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Some stuff I need to sort out."

"Well, you have to eat first," I tell him. "Food is what gives you the energy to do all that working."

"All that working?" he repeats with his brows furrowed. "Yes," I nod my head, "that's what you do every single day, no break."

He opens his mouth as if he's about to deny my words then stops himself. Because I'm right. "There's just a lot of stuff I need to do. Whether that's with the mafia or my business."

"Do you like it?" I find myself asking. Does he like the violence that comes with being the leader of a mafia?

He takes a moment to think before his eyes dart to the silver watch he's wearing. "I have to go."

Well, that's one way to dodge my question. "Bye, Niccolò," I call out as he walks away. "Thanks again!"

"Like I said, no need to thank me."

I think today is the most I've ever spoken to him. This is progress. Crazy progress.



a little fun chapter of them spending time with each other 😜🙈🤞

thoughts and vote plslsls

word count | 1988