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XENA

As soon as his words clicked in, my Ruger LC9 was poised out, ready to shoot. "Get the fuck off my turf."

He didn't flinch. Nor did he bat an eyelash.

If only, my words added to his mirth, judging by the flicker that crossed his face. Then, it was all blank again. The perfect mask. High cheekbones, a razor-sharp jaw, full lips. Gone was the previous smirk. In its place resided a coldness. An unsettling coldness that would have sent another person running down the street.

Because this wasn't some 'lowlife loser looking for some quick fame', as my father quoted him to be. In front of me, stood the man people only whispered about.

Ugly whispers of how he had his own father chained like a dog at his heels, after nicking the carotid artery.

The man who chopped off the arms of his Consigliere for giving a wrong presumption.

And the man responsible for putting a target of three million dollars on my mother's head.

He looked every bit of the merciless predator the underworld claimed him to be. And I would be damned if I let his reputation to hold some sort of control over me.

He may be one of The Five; the Cosa Nostra's Capo. Except the fact that he was on my land. Not on his high throne in Italy.

He wanted to play?

Come on, buddy. Let's fucking play.

His eyes were locked on the loaded pistol, marginally away from his heart. "Is that the way to treat a guest?" Even his voice sounded cold and unbothered. But it was the intensity in his eyes that gave him away.

"Would you prefer a 'Welcome to America' blowjob? Or does three bullets in your balls sound appealing enough?"

"Tempting."

"I sure hope so."

Leaning back comfortably on the dead man, with my six-inch heels on either side, I studied Capo.

His stare burned into me, dark and blazing, holding my gaze unwaveringly, almost in a challenge. My eyebrow inched up at the test, the competitive streak in me refusing to back down. Oh, well.

I was bursting at the seams with questions. Starting with why the fuck did he send those men after me? And now him being here? How did he know I was asking around for him? How was it that he shows up here, right after my father handed me a gun to kill him and his other four associates?

Caleb's previous words haunted my ears.

He has eyes everywhere. He is everywhere.

And then started the accusations. Was Caleb a spy for him? Did he tip off my location? But then why did he sound so scared?

It could all have been an act.

Damn you, Italian Gelato.

He broke the silence first.

"I've got to say," His voice was low and thoughtful, "I thought the whole 'ruthless femme fatale' was a figment of drunken men's imagination," His eyes followed the littering bodies on the ground.

As if someone's imagination could come up with me.

I didn't move my gaze from him. "Allow me to shoot you awake."

"You've threatened me thrice now." An observation.

"I've heard that the third time is the charm." My lip curled. "But I highly doubt that you came all the way here to check in on the rumors."

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