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makisig (m.) dashing; well dressed; gorgeous

EMILIANO NIKOLAYEV

When I was a kid, Dad once told me about Italian women and their beauty, and how he ended up marrying one. Since then, I used to wonder how the others besides my mom looked and appeared. By now, I've seen many, even talked with them.

But a certain one caught me very off guard. Probably. Definately.

Rosabelle de Luca, the sweet, petite princess of the Outfit, the Italian Mafia.

That day in the club, when she bumped into me, I already knew by the way she looked up at me with those wide, enticing pair of ocean-blue eyes that I would meet this girl again. I had to.

Seriously, I wonder how Gabriel de Luca could let his little girl roam around the city filled with monsters that wouldn't hesitate to take a sweet bite from beautiful Bella if only they found out about her presence. Had he never thought about who'll protect her from them?

Especially, who'll protect her from me?

A smile spread across my face at the remembrance of the girl who frequently wore miniskirts everywhere. I was almost tempted to meet her right now again as much as I was tempted to press the 'send' key on my laptop and let Gabriel know how safe his daughter was with me.

But anyway, I wasn't about to do either of that.

I don't want beautiful Bella to think of me as a creep, not when I am actually one. Neither do I want to shatter her dreams of traveling across Russia as well.

Might just enjoy the four weeks of company my newest muse is going to provide me. I'm a deprived man, after all.

✈︎

ROSABELLE

"You're telling me that you've met that man again?" The way Ana stared at me made me feel like I was the dumbest person on the planet, while in reality, I actually was. But we're not talking about that right now. "Erm... Yeah?" I nervously laughed, hoping this woman wouldn't start simp-shaming me.

She became speechless. "Girl," she sighed, "Please, don't tell me that you think it's all a coincidence that you've met him thrice by now." The glasses she wore only made her appear more judgmental, bonus was the frown on her face.

"I... Don't know about that either. But what could it be beside a coincidence? I mean..." A gulp worked down my throat as I tried to muster the courage to speak my next words. "He doesn't seem like someone who'd stalk me or something?"

Unless he already knew about me, which was not impossible, but not easy either. He wouldn't find my identity so fast when it's only three days since I've been in Moscow.

And though he's a womanizer, as Ana said, I think... he's a good person.

No?

"You're crazy."

"I know."

She scoffed when I retorted, which only made me smile in return. "Don't fall for his traps, girl. I'm warning you again; he's not a good person." She sighed again, her tone held concern.

"He won't be able to do anything to me. Trust me, Ana." I grabbed her hand to reassure her, smiling cheekily when she glared at me.

Ana doesn't know where I came from, so it was normal for her to be worried. And I appreciated that, really. She's the best person I could ask for.

"You don't know him."

"He doesn't know me either."

I smirked when she shot me a dirty look, indicating that she found my words anything but funny. "Okay, can we leave his topic now? Pretty please?" I asked with a pout, hugging her arm when she huffed. "The night is about us, only you and me," I tried to make the best puppy eyes I could come up with, hoping she'd listen.

Then, she finally decided to let it go as I breathed a sigh of happiness, shooting her a victorious grin when she glared at me again.

✈︎

The next day came in a whim, and as usual since I've been doing for the past three days, I went to the same café to grab my coffee after breakfast. But my intention became more about meeting Emiliano and less about buying coffee.

But who cares?

I intentionally chose to stand at the end of the line of people waiting to order their drinks when I found no sign of Emiliano after entering the café, only so I would find some excuse to not make it obvious that I'm waiting for the man's arrival.

For many minutes, I remained standing, occasionally letting people stand before me. My act of graciousness earned a few suspicious glares though. Because people can't appreciate good deeds.

Then again... I mean, who would want to give up their place in line for you on a busy Monday morning, especially choose to stand behind you when you're not even pregnant or something?

But anyway. I'm fine as long as no one finds my intention, and it's not possible unless someone can read minds.

"Will you let me have the privilege of your kindness too, Bella?" I nearly flinched at the slow whisper of words in my ear, but the Russian accent of the owner of that tone only caused butterflies to dance wildly in my stomach.

I turned my head to look up at the ethereal man behind me, and blood rushed to my face when I felt his frame slightly brushing mine, causing warm tingles to spread all over me.

"When did you come?" I asked hesitatingly when I found him gazing down at me with a devious smirk playing on his lips, forcing myself to not say the words, 'I was waiting for you,' when they tried to leave my mouth. "Just now," he responded, "and then found you waiting for me."

"I wasn't waiting for you." I retorted almost immediately, only to bring laughter from him. "Now I'm convinced that you were." I rolled my eyes at the words. "You can think whatever makes you happy."

"I didn't realize you cared so much about my happiness, Belle." I froze, unable to decipher if it was because of the way he uttered my name or because I didn't expect that Italian accent could roll off that man's tongue at such ease and make words appear ten times sexier than their meaning.

"You know Italian?" This time I fully turned to face him, eyes wide as I looked up at his emerald green eyes.

As much of a criminal as the man appeared, the way his eyes were so bright that you could see sunshine in them made me feel that, even if Emiliano was a mysterious man, he cannot be as bad as Ana made him sound like.

After all, they say eyes are the windows to your soul.

His soul might be darkened, but not damned. I hope.

"My mom was one." He responded with a slight smile, as if amused by the way I admired him. "Your mom was Italian?"

"Half Italian and half Russian." A lady interrupted the words that were about to leave my mouth at that moment as the half an hour of waiting finally terminated, and we could place our orders now. "Choto by vy khoteli zakazat'?" The Russian asked in a tight tone about what I'd like, and Emi decided to order for the both of us, as he already knew my regular drink.

"Dva kofe so l'dom i..." I watched in awe as he spoke in fluent Russian with the other woman, momentarily forgetting that he's actually a Russian and speaking in one's mother tongue isn't supposed to be that hot, the sound of his voice coming across as quite harsh and... deep.

I licked my lips, unbeknownst to myself. But I immediately bit my inner cheeks at the unusual thoughts that flooded through my mind, thoughts you shouldn't harbor about a stranger.

"Here's your coffee," His voice brought me back to reality, and then I quickly took the cup from his hand, sending him a smile of gratitude afterwards. "Thanks." Then I turned to look at the lady, "Uh, how much was the bill again?"

"I've already paid for us, Belle," Emi said then, making me glare up at him with a frown. "No? When did you do that?"

"When you were busy checking me out."

Can someone hear crows? No?

I wanted to bury myself under the ground.

God, don't make me start regretting my decision to travel Russia. "You know what?" I scoffed, though my face was the exact shade of tomato right now, "I'm never coming here again."

With that, I turned around and walked forward quickly, but of course, the big man was faster. His laughter followed my response as I fought hard not to blush again. "Come on, Bella. We both know that was a lie."

Damn him.

No, actually. Damn me.

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