Mika

Fifty-Five Mika

The door opens, revealing a towering frame with his toned chest poking from his unbuttoned moss green dress shirt. Most people would consider him attractive. He has a long, oval face shape with big, bulging emerald eyes and an upturned nose. His tongue skims his bottom lip as his cheeks flush bright pink.

It's like second nature to walk around with a vixen smile on my face.

"H-Hello," he stutters, scratching the nape of his neck.

He would forget about me. I was just a girl that played a fucked-up part in his objective. Nothing worth remembering. If only I could say the same. I'm a woman now. Ready to take back what he took from me all those years ago. But I have to remember no matter how much satisfaction I'll get from killing him-- I'm here to do a job. It's the way Diablo trained me.

Little Ander has been a very bad boy enough to get a bounty on his head. Roles are reserved. Tonight he's the target. I'm Mictlantecuhtli. The urban legend that leaves the mancho mafia bosses quivering in their boots. It's only a call away, and then it's their turn to meet the fallen angel leading them to death.

It's been five seconds, but he's devouring my body discreetly with dilated pupils.

"Are you the one he sent?" He asks, his eyes floating in the hallway for any lurkers.

"Yes."

"C-Come in," he stutters, extending his hand as a gesture for me to come in.

His suite is fucking breathtaking. It's materialistic, boasting of luxury and elegance. Soft grey cushion couches surround the table, and a black grand piano sits in the corner. It reminds me of my childhood. When I had enough things to make people jealous but craved something, a child should always get-- love.

Maybe I should've taken the constant beating from my father and stopped being so selfish. I guess I didn't realize the luxury of my life until it was stripped away. My finger glides over the abstract shape figure on one of the tall, white pillars.

"Wow, this place is insane," I admit, waving at the fantail goldfish in the water tank. They flip-flop around their seashells, unwillingly knowing they will be an accessory to my crime.

The tips of his ears burn red like I was hanging a lighter over them as he laughs, covering his amusement. "Thanks. It's nothing special, really. You should see my familia's home."

My brows raise. "Is that an invitation?"

Another awkward collection of chuckles leaves his lips as he rubs his palms together with taut eyebrows. "W-Where do we do this?"

My lips tip to a smug smirk as I step forward, wrapping my arms on his shoulders only to dwindle them down his exposed chest. His heartbeat quickens as my hands dance to his belt loop, hooking my finger on it.

"How about the bedroom? So, we're both comfortable?" I suggest, tugging at his jeans.

He turns his face, coughing to the side as he extends his hand to the stone-slab staircase in the corner of his living room. "Do you want me to bring up some wine? Any preferences? Red or white?"

Perfect

I shake my head as I entangle my hands behind my back. "Doesn't matter to me."

"Great," he replies, "One second. Please wait here for a moment."

His coffee table is decorated with antique dolls the size of my pinky finger. Glass clinking together shatters the silence as his footsteps boom louder in my direction. He emerges in the doorway with two wine glasses between his fingers and a wine bottle in the other hand. The slacks on his waist cover his feet.