The Dons Siren

Chapter Three

Matteo

Sirena was her stage name, but her real name was Sofia Rossi. She's been working at Mistica for the past three years.

She was twenty-five years old. She had a younger brother who attended the University of Illinois Institute of Technology.

He was an IT engineering major. Her mother wasn't in her records or her life, and there was no death certificate. Her father suffered two heart attacks, and he had a recent open-heart surgery just last month.

His medical records and bills were all paid fully in cash by Sofia herself and an at-home nurse she had for her father.

It was more than easy to tell that she spent her money on her father's medical bills.

I had her dental and medical records, and her credit card statements in front of me. Anything she bought or paid for was printed out right before me.

She didn't splurge on anything. This woman barely even used her credit card. She wrote out checks for her rent, gas, electricity, water, and car payments, but that was it.

She lived in an apartment with one of the girls who worked at the front desk, Alexis Macoy. I scanned through her school records. She was really fucking smart.

Straight A's, a 4.0 GPA, Honors, and she was Valedictorian in high school. She got into The University of Chicago on a full scholarship.

Then, she dropped out after a year, around the time her father had his first heart attack. I didn't even have to question her; I knew her entire life with all the information Leonardo got me last night.

Her life fit into a folder that consisted of a few papers stapled together. I could easily get her kicked out for speaking to me the way she did last night. I could get her banned from ever working in Chicago again for disrespecting me.

She touched me as if I was one of her horny customers, called me baby as if I was her boyfriend, and cussed at me with blatant disregard as if I was nobody to her.

Did she not know who I was?

Yet she was still out there. I let her go unreprimanded. Alive. Breathing. Walking. Dancing. I looked to see my fists clenching at the thought of her dancing.

Dancing naked. Dancing for other men.

What the fuck?

I didn't care.

I didn't fucking care.

I tossed her file in the drawer before reaching for another cigarette. I lit it, leaned back in my chair, and was instantly bombarded with a million images of a confident temptress.

Fiery-red colored hair that was as ardent as her personality draped down her back in bouncy waves. Cerulean ocean-blue eyes you could fucking drown in if you stared at them for too long, and a curvy body that should come with a warning label.

God, her body.

Those eyes alone could bring a grown man that didn't believe in God for prayer and worship. She had tanned, olive-toned skin, which made me wonder if her hair was a natural red or if she dyed it.

She was snarky, and I couldn't help how turned on I got when I saw her threaten that old fuck that dared touch her.

I was about to get up and put a bullet between his eyes, but she was more than capable of taking care of herself. What a force to be reckoned with.

In Greek mythology, sirens were described as beautiful maiden-like creatures–singing enchantresses that were known to lure passing sailors to their islands and later on to their doom.