Chapter 4

Vanessa’s head throbs as her eyes flutter open, a quiet groan leaving her lips as she snaps back to reality, the soft hum of jazz music and muffled laughter invading her senses. There is a sharp ache in her ribs and soon, it all comes back to her...

She remembers exactly what happened.

She lost the fight... all because she was distracted...

Reckless. Reckless and stupid.

The memory fuels her rage and makes her shoot up on whatever she is sitting in. Judging by the distant music and atmosphere, she feels she is still somewhere in the club. She looks around her, her chest rising and falling sharply as she analyses her surroundings. She is in a room, dark and private, lit only by a warm glow of low-hanging pendant lights, a far cry from the glitzy chaos of the main club... A plush leather couch presses against her back, and the faint smell of cigars and whiskey lingers in the air. She shifts slightly, testing her limbs, and realises her hands are free. No bindings, no restraints...

She doesn't know why, but it angers her even more. So they didn't even bother restraining her...

Big, big mistake...

Her eyes dart to the figure sitting across from her, legs casually crossed, as though he’s hosting a casual dinner and not holding her captive.

It’s him.

Her target.

He’s leaning back in a high-backed leather chair, his jacket gone, his black shirt rolled at the sleeves. He swirls a glass of whiskey in one hand, his dark eyes fixed on her with a calm that infuriates her more than any words could.

Vanessa sits up abruptly, her body protesting the motion, but she ignores it. Her hands instinctively reach to her sides, searching for her weapons, but she comes up empty.

The man notices the motion and smirks, eyeing her carefully from head to toe.

“Looking for these?” He lets out, gesturing to a small table beside him. Her knife and gun lie there, both just out of reach...

As well as her heels, carefully placed on the table.

Vanessa’s eyes narrow as she swings her legs over the couch, planting her bare feet on the floor. She doesn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“Why am I still alive?”

Her voice comes out low, agitated as she glares at him, taking a few steps towards the man.

He takes a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down. “Because killing you would’ve been a waste. I think you're quite... interesting...”

“Then you’re an idiot,” Vanessa snaps. “And I’m going to kill you.”

He smirks at her and slowly stands to his feet, placing his hands in his pockets as he confidently approaches her. “You’ve had plenty of chances already, bella. Yet here we are.”

Vanessa feels her fists clenching as she prepares to strike, a sudden spike in her heartbeat with how low his voice has become. “Don’t call me that...”

He raises an eyebrow, his smirk widening slightly. “What? You don’t like bella? It suits you.” he tells her, eyeing her yet again and she finds herself feeling nervous as she struggles to keep her eyes on him.

Nervous...

How could she be feeling nervous...

Her patience snaps. Vanessa lunges, her hand aiming for his throat, but he moves faster than she expects. He moves aside smoothly, catching her wrist mid-air and twisting it just enough to throw her off balance.

“You really should rest,” he says lightly, his grip firm but not cruel. “You’re in no shape to fight...”

Vanessa twists sharply, breaking free and pivoting to aim a kick at his ribs. He steps back in time, the smirk never leaving his face.

“You’re good,” He taunts, his voice calm, almost amused. “But you’re wasting your energy.”

Vanessa doesn’t respond. Her mind is racing, searching for a way out. She’s unarmed, outnumbered—she is sure his men are stationed by the door, she knows that much—but she refuses to let him win.

“Who are you?” she demands, her voice sharp and cutting, her mind travelling back to the fact that Victor refuses to tell her who he is. But she's growing tired of not knowing. She needs to know who she's fighting...

He pauses, his dark eyes locking onto hers as he stands still, continuing to analyse her.

"So Victor sent you on a job and didn't even bother telling you who I am... I hate to say, I'm a bit offended by that old geezer..." the man chuckles and Vanessa finds herself feeling angrier, perhaps because she is embarrassed about the fact that Victor didn't give her that kind of information, or more embarrassed that an enemy can see that there's something wrong with her not knowing the name of the person she's going after...

Finally, the man lifts his chin up, a sudden confidence flashing across his face as he stares her in the eye.

“Arturo Castellano.” He answers slowly and the moment he says his name, Vanessa feels her blood run cold. Her breath catches immediately, her pulse racing and ringing in her ears.

“You’re lying.” she breathes out, quiet and barely controlled.

“Why would I lie?” he counters smoothly, stepping closer and with every step he takes towards her, she feels her heart race even faster, not being sure of whether or not she should allow him to close the distance, or she should fight back instead.

Her fists clench at her sides as anger flares in her chest.

The Castellanos...

A powerful family, one of the most powerful families in this region. They were ruthless, cold and cunning, and everyone either feared, respected or hated them...

Don Santoro was clear on who their enemies were... and he was clear on the Castellanos...

Not only were they enemies...

But they are the ones responsible for the death of Vanessa's parents...