A Dangerous Bargain

I walk silently behind Mr DeLuca, gawking at the extravagant estate he leads me through.

Unlike when I was walking with Happy. The men we pass don't look at me for even a second this time. They only acknowledge Mr DeLuca, calling him Don. Whatever that means.

It's clear by the way they look at him that they respect him, not out of fear, but something else... admiration, maybe.

When we finally get outside, I feel like I can breathe properly. The grounds surrounding the mansion are large. Beautiful. It's very isolated, wherever we are. Though I can understand the mafia not wanting to be in the central city.

There's a blacked-out SUV waiting for us; a new Bentley. Of course.

DeLuca opens the passenger door for me without hesitating, catching me off guard with the gesture.

"Thank you," I murmur.

He simply nods and closes the door, giving nothing away as per usual.

I find myself sinking against the expensive leather of my seat, placing my hands on my lap before knotting my fingers together tightly. The butterflies forming in my stomach must be due to my head injury, I'm sure of it.

From the corner of my eye, I watch him as he effortlessly climbs into the car, revving the engine. He puts on black sunglasses that further emphasise just how perfectly his face is structured.

At this point, I can't deny feeling attracted to him. Anyone would be, but it's okay. I can be attracted to him and ignore the feeling entirely.

He's a client. A dangerous client I need to untie myself from... Somehow.

Dangerous, I remind my subconscious firmly as the smell of his masculine cologne fills my senses.

"It's alright Adele. Breathe," he says, voice thick but radiant with a calmness I could never have given the situation we're in.

His fingers graze my trembling knee lightly. It's barely a touch, but the sensation makes me feel like I have electricity in my veins instead of blood.

I have never felt so alive and terrified at the same time.

"You're shaking," he notes with a frown before smoothly retracting his hand.

Meanwhile, I'm sure my eyes look like they're about to bulge out of my head.

"Yes, well, murder is not an everyday occurrence for me," I answer in the most unbothered tone I can manage, hiding my flustered response to his touch.

I shift in my seat and stare ahead at the road, refusing to look at him despite feeling his heated gaze on me every few seconds.

"Do you have any idea who might have killed him?" I blurt out before the tension in the car can grow any thicker. "Jordan, I mean."

Who else, idiot. My subconscious rolls her eyes at me.

I allow myself one opportunity to look at him. It's at the same time he happens to look at me.

He clears his throat and turns his attention back to the road almost instantly, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

"Jordan was mixed up in a lot of different things against my advice," DeLuca explains vaguely.

"Still, it must make you look bad if one of your men can be murdered in plain daylight," I say before I think about what I'm implying.

"Once we know who is responsible, they will receive an adequate response," he answers coolly. The icy edge to his voice makes me shiver. I understand the implication. I've worked with plenty of powerful men before, but I've never met anyone like Mr DeLuca. Equal parts magnetising and chilling.