The shrill ring of my phone ripped me from sleep. "What?!" I snarled, snatching it up.
A chuckle. "You wouldn't want to disappoint a customer, would you?"
"Who the hell orders anything at this hour? I'm not a goddamn pizza place," I snapped, my annoyance escalating.
"What the fuck are you talking about? What order?" the voice retorted. "Aren't you… an assassin?"
'Oh, right,' I thought. "Who?" I asked, already knowing what he wanted.
"Fabio Ramirez. Details to follow." He said as he was about to hang up. "How much?" I interrupted.
"One hundred thousand dollars."
One hundred thousand? For me? Seriously? "No," I said flatly. "Find someone else. I don't come cheap."
"Wait," he pleaded, a desperate edge to his voice. "You're my only option. I need it clean, quiet. You're the best amongst all."
A smirk played on my lips. "Then pay accordingly." I heard a sigh. "Fine. Eight hundred thousand."
"Much better," I purred.
"It's a pleasure doing business with you. You'll hear from me tomorrow night." I hung up, and slipped back into bed in my penthouse, and drifted back to sleep.
Five years ago, I moved out of Mike's place. I still visit often, though. They're family. The rest of the gang's still there. I was the only one to leave; Alayah was hesitant at first, but eventually came around. I needed my own space. And here I am: one of the country's top assassins, highly paid, well-known, and feared. The thought brought a self-satisfied smirk to my face… then darkness claimed me once more.
______
"Siv? Where are you?" Al's voice crackled through the phone.
"Coming," I mumbled, the toothbrush in my mouth muffling my words.
"Still in the bathroom?" Al's incredulous tone was practically audible.
"I overslept," I explained, a touch defensively. "Got a midnight call about a job. Not exactly my fault." The gang knows what I do, and surprisingly, they're supportive. Mike, however, decided to join a mafia. I have no idea which one, and honestly, there's little I can do to change his mind if he's determined. As long as he's safe… for now. We all know how volatile that world can be. It's not my place to interfere, though. Alayah, on the other hand, opted out of the mafia life, choosing the assassin path like me. We often collaborate on missions. Today, however, is our weekly shopping spree. We see each other daily, but there's something special about spending our hard-earned cash together.
With a final rinse and a swipe of my tongue, I discarded the toothbrush.
( wear anything you want)
The speed with which I dressed was impressive, even to myself. Bag snatched, I was out the door and into my car. A quick touch of lipstick and a stylish pair of sunglasses completed my transformation. I started the engine and headed towards our pre-arranged meeting point, a familiar thrill of anticipation buzzing beneath the surface. The thought of retail therapy with Alayah, after a night spent dispatching a rather unpleasant individual, was a welcome contrast. The quiet hum of the engine and the rhythmic pulse of the city around me provided a soothing counterpoint to the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. This wasn't just shopping; it was a ritual, a celebration of survival, a testament to our enduring friendship forged in the crucible of a life less ordinary. We were survivors, and this was our reward. And also— It's my Birthday!!!
I know— I'm already 25. Sigh, how fast time can be.
______
I pulled into a side street, sunglasses perched on my nose, interpret the café's name. This must be the place, I thought. Al wanted coffee before our shopping expedition.
Stepping out of the car, I walked straight into a wall—or rather, a very hard, very well-defined chest. A deep voice, thick with a decidedly Italian accent, cut through the air.
"Do you have eyes, signorina?" The annoyance was palpable.
I looked up, prepared to unleash my usual witty retort, but… wow. The man was tall. Incredibly tall. And undeniably handsome. Seriously, who sculpted this specimen? The gods themselves, I suspected.
My inner monologue went into overdrive. No matter how gorgeous he is, he doesn't get to talk to you like that, Sylvia. Get a grip.
But then… He's so hot, I think I might spontaneously combust. I mentally drooled, my gaze lingering a little too long.
Snap out of it! I gave myself a mental slap. I quickly averted my eyes from his perfect face, only to find him staring right back—and his gaze lingered a little too long on my chest. WTF?
"Eyes up here, signor, " I retorted, hands planted firmly on my hips. "And keep them there. Don't you dare look at my babies like that!"
An amused smirk played on his lips. "Babies? You named your breasts?"
"That's none of your concern," I snapped, cutting him off before he could elaborate. "And, my apologies for the… collision." The sarcasm dripped from my voice as I swept past him and into the café.
Alayah was waving frantically from a small table near the window. As I approached, she pulled me down beside her.
"So," she began, her eyes twinkling with mischief, nodding towards the man I'd just encountered. "Who was that hottie?" The sarcasm in her tone mirrored my own.
________
A/N
It's a short chapter, I know, but don't blame me; I'm drained.