KYRELL BLACKWOOD SAUNTERED INTO THE CLUB LIKE HE OWNED IT.
To be fair, he did own it.
The women in line outside, had their wide-eyed gazes fixed on him, lips parted in awe- ever since he tossed his keys to the valet and stepped out of his vintage car- and for a brief moment, the attention almost gave him the smug satisfaction and thrill he craved.
Almost. The boredom and irritation made their reappearance, and he nearly rolled his eyes.
Just before he stepped in, a force of habit, he looked over his shoulder and let his lips tilt upward into a wickedly seductive smirk.
All of them melted. Ugh. He wished it wasn't that easy sometimes.
For once, however, even as his leather-clad feet tapped noiselessly against the tiles, the attention didn't immediately snap to him.
He paused, with a small confused frown.
His club- Venice, was full as usual, with men and women, dancing and drinking, but as discreet as they were trying to be, almost everybody's attention kept drifting to a certain concealed corner of the room.
"He's rich," is the first thing he hears when he tunes in to the conversation of a group of girls, "like, more than a billionaire rich."
"Hot and rich?" one of them gushes, "gosh, you think I'd get a turn with him?"
"Didn't you see?" another says, sounding slightly bitter and envious, "he has a woman with him- the same who came with him yesterday, and the day before. He's got the whole possessive thing going with her too."
"Yeah, I remember," one contributes eagerly, "He walked in, took one look at all the men eyeing her up, and went all, 'Look at my woman the wrong way, and I'll blow your fuckin' brains out.' It was hot. Super deep, super sexy accent-"
"He's got guns? Like the real weapon-ones?"
"Uh-huh! He stabbed a man in front of everyone because he was looking at his woman-"
"You know what I heard?" another one suddenly says, "I heard that he killed three people on the way here because he was bored, and he's got the cleanest shot ever-"
Of course, there was no guarantee if the mysterious man they were talking about did kill three people because he was bored, or if he stabbed someone, or if owned the biggest drug cartel in Paris and Tokyo.
That didn't mean they weren't going to talk about it.
Because naturally, the girl's friend had told her, another friend had told her friend, another woman had told her friend's friend- and ultimately, all the rumors about the mysterious man came from an auburn-haired woman that everyone had conveniently forgotten about.
The same 'auburn-haired' woman sat in one corner of the room, sipping her drink and adjusting the wig that concealed her dark hair.
"Aight," she inconspicuously speaks into her wrist, forcing herself to look away from the man who had just entered, "you've got Blackwood's attention. He's probably heading your way in a minute. Over and out."
The 'mysterious man' hums, his eyes still on the blonde woman draped across his lap. "Thanks, Bea. Boss?"
One of the waiters walking past the 'mysterious man' brings a finger up to scratch behind his ear.
"Heading your way, over and out," the waiter speaks into his wrist, before he approaches another table, setting down their drinks.
The 'mysterious man' hums again, leaning down so his face is buried in the woman's neck. "Gale?"
"In the van," comes a voice in his ear, "Comms functioning. Acquiring access to club security in five, four-"
The woman on his lap stifles a laugh.
He lifts his head to look at her, and for a second- forgetting their purpose in the club, a genuine smile briefly tugs his lips.
"What?" he prods, almost teasingly.
"Nothing," the blonde looks like she's trying to suppress a grin, "That just tickled a tad bit, that's all."
"Tickled?"
"You've got a stubble," she tells him pressing her lips together, "and your breath is really warm, so it tickles."
"Hmm," he muses, before a glint appears in his eyes. They were supposed to be acting like a couple anyway, so what harm would it do?
He raises an eyebrow at her. "Tickles. Is that so?"
There must have been something in his voice because she instantly looks up at him with a warning look.
"Don't you dare-"
She squeals as a warm nose grazes her neck. "Hey! No, no-"
Though she tries to squirm away, she can't help the laugh that bubbles up her throat. The arms that are around her, only tighten, pulling her closer to the muscular body- as he dips his head further into her neck, blowing raspberries against her skin.
"Hey, quit it," she says in protest, though she can't stop herself from giggling- and it's clear he finds it amusing as well because she can feel his lips curve upwards against her skin.
He only stops, when someone abruptly clears his throat in front of them.
Axel looks up from where his face was buried in Stella's neck, with a half-irritated look- that he surprisingly didn't need to fake all that much- only to find the person they had been waiting for all night.
Well, hello dolly.
"Yes?" he drawls out in a smooth Italian accent, "Can I help you?"
Kyrell Blackwood narrows his eyes at both of them, only for a moment, before he lets a charming smile lift his lips.
"No need for any help at all," Kyrell waves a dismissive hand, sitting down in front of them with the same calculative gaze, "I just thought I'd come over and see the man that everyone's talking about."
Axel lifts an eyebrow. "Oh?"
Stella on the other hand stays quiet, observing the man in front of her. There didn't seem to be a hint of envy or hostility in his gaze, for stealing the spotlight. Only burning curiosity and wariness.
"Of course," Kyrell replies, with a tilt of his head as he leans back and unbuttons the top button of his shirt, "it's odd that there's been another revered person, paying visits and I haven't heard anything of it. It is my club after all."
"Your club?" Axel raises an impressed eyebrow. "Mr. Blackwood, I presume? A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Kyrell's dark eyes glint, as he holds a hand out to shake. "The pleasure is all mine, Mr.-?"
"Matteo Bernardi," Axel says smoothly with the same accent, giving it a firm shake, with his other arm still around Stella, "This is my fiancée, Alexandria."
There's something about the way he says it, the way it rolls of his tongue in a husky Italian drawl, and his voice- a deep low rumble, that instantly sends a surge of heat through her insides.
She ignores it, offering Kyrell Blackwood what she hoped was a brief, polite smile.
"Mr. Blackwood," she greets, in the Italian accent that Bea and Gale had taught her just the day before.
He offers her a smile in greeting as well, his eyes raking across her figure in curiosity, but his gaze doesn't linger.
Axel had to hide his surprise at that, even though his territorial grip around her figure tightened in the slightest. In the last three days that they had been coming to this club, Bea had managed to dress Stella in clothing that did absolute wonders to her figure, and while it attracted a lot of male and female attention-
-it brought a lot of unwarranted thoughts.
Thoughts that Axel couldn't control, no matter how hard he tried to.
The fact that they were under the pretense of being a couple didn't help, because the feeling of her small, soft frame, pressed against his- only magnified those unwarranted feelings.
And Stella loved dressing up, he could tell. The idea of 'decorating her body' fascinated her, so she willingly complied with everything Bea did for her, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.
So here she was, sitting on his lap, a finger absentmindedly tracing the ridges of his muscles- in a red dress and red high-heeled shoes that were driving him crazy for reasons he tried not to think of.
"Well," Kyrell says, making his gaze dart away from Stella, "What brings you to my club, Mr. Bernardi?"
"I've had time on my hands," comes his perfectly rehearsed reply, "and my woman and I like it here."
"Really?" Kyrell cocks an eyebrow, "I was under the impression you killed people when you were bored."
Axel smirks lazily at that. "Now, whatever gave you that idea?"
Kyrell smirks right back, and Axel knows that they're on the right track so far.
The man was curious, very curious, but also very interested.
"Word travels around," he holds a hand up and snaps his fingers.
The closest waiter hurries to his side. Only, Kyrell, fortunately, doesn't see which waiter it is.
"Yes sir?" Corban imitates in a perfectly posh manner, just like the other trained staff at the club.
"One drink, my usual," Kyrell says, his eyes still fixed on the couple, "Anything you'd like?"
"No thank you," Axel declines politely on behalf of both of them, gesturing to the empty glasses on their table. "I've had my fill."
Of course, he didn't drink that much because he came from a family of lightweights. In fact, he didn't drink at all.
But, a certain 'waiter' had slipped empty glasses from other tables onto theirs, so as far as everyone was concerned, he had consumed alcohol.
Kyrell raises an eyebrow at that but doesn't comment, until after the 'waiter' leaves.
"What do you do for a living, Mr. Bernardi?" he says, with another tilt of his head.
"I'm a businessman," Axel offers, trying not to get distracted by Stella's fingers that were still tracing shapes on his chest.
"Businessman?" Kyrell's eyes glint, and a dark look flashes in them,
"Your profession requires you to carry a gun, then?"
Silence.
Axel doesn't flinch at that revelation, however, much to Kyrell's surprise.
He only raises an eyebrow.
"I only said businessman," Axel says patronizingly, "I didn't say what kind of business, si?"
This time, Kyrell stays silent. The shrewdness in his gaze only intensifies, however.
"I see," he hums, leaning back in his seat, as his drink is placed in front of him, "but let's be real, Mr. Bernardi. I'm certain you aren't here, just because you like my club."
"Maybe. Maybe not."
"What business do you have with me, then?" Kyrell's charming smile drops, and a hard look replaces it. "I've never met you before."
"I don't have business with you," Axel says, rivaling his hard look with one of his own, "My family does."
"Your family?" Kyrell's hard look doesn't waver, "What family?"
"The Italian Mafia."
It's quiet again.
Confusion slips onto Kyrell's expression, but he masks it so quickly, even Stella nearly missed it.
"The Italian Mafia?" Kyrell inquires, "You? In the Mafia?"
Axel gives him a cool look, before he cranes his neck to the side, pulling down his shirt in the slightest.
Sitting there is a tattoo. A fake one, but one painted on his skin to look fading and real enough. A tattoo that only members of the Italian Mafia were branded with, but enough proof in the lighting of the club.
Kyrell's eyes narrow. "What business do I have with you?"
"Don't play stupid, Blackwood," Axel lets anger slip into his tone, and because of the words that follow- he doesn't even have to feign it.
"We discovered a traitor," his eyes narrow at the man sitting in front of him, "A filthy little bastard who thought he was above the omerta, and all our intelligence points straight to the Noxia."
"The Noxia?" Kyrell raises a bewildered eyebrow, but there's dark amusement in his expression, "Is that why you've come here? To declare war?"
"No," Axel says tightly, "We're not fighting pointless wars. They sent me, to settle this and find the coward."
"In short," Corban looks at everyone on the table, before looking at Axel and Stella, "When undercover, a couple is the most believable approach to this because it balances out the threat- one person talking, and one person observing. One man will instantly be assumed suspicious, and Blackwood won't pay attention to a woman. Now, Gale?"
"We create a background," Gale says, "We tell him that you're a part of a criminal organization and that all your evidence for a certain problem traces back to them. If and when he asks for proof, we'll give you the answers he needs. He'll be looking for a fight, but we tell him that we want to settle it peacefully."
"You get his interest," Bea says, and though she sounds a little quieter than usual, she's just as attentive, "We'll get everyone talking about you, and when he approaches you, we use woven stories to keep him interested. He obviously," she clears her throat, "hates people who betray him, so he'd want to talk more about it, but not at a club."
"And we get ourselves invited to his lair," Axel finishes, his knee bouncing, "where his guards are down, and where he's likely to admit whether he's working with Feds. He wouldn't mind inviting two people to his place for the first time, considering that it's obviously well guarded."
"None of us take well to betrayal," Axel says firmly to Kyrell, "And if someone is being disloyal in our ranks, we want that someone dead. We do not want to go to war over a single stupid person, so we'd prefer settling this the right way."
In a split second's decision, he chooses to add,
"Perhaps that'd pave way for alliances in the future."
Something minuscule changes in his expression at the mention of disloyalty and only Stella sees it because of her special senses and because the look in his eyes is one that she can discern anywhere.
Pain.
It's gone before she can think too much of it, however, and the smile that's so charming and cunning at the same time makes its reappearance.
"Well," he drawls, raking a hand through his dark hair, "I'd rather not discuss business here. It'd be absolutely lovely if you could join me tomorrow for lunch."
He offers Stella the same charming smile. "I can extend that invitation to your lovely fiancée here, as well."
And Axel finally let a wicked smile of his own creep onto his face. Because they had got him, even if it was for a second-and even if victory was brief.
All according to plan.
Perfect. The smile turns into a lazy, victorious smirk, as he curls his lower lip into his mouth to prevent the grin from widening.
"Well," he drawls slowly, leaning back and looking at him through lidded eyes,
"It would be our greatest pleasure, Mr. Blackwood."
Thank you for reading! Do vote and comment :)
so I tried to make this chapter mysterious and reveal things along the way, but if I ended up confusing y'all along the way I'm sorry lmao ToT