Davina's POV
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I wake up with butterflies as Eric trails soft kisses on my body. Starting at my back, he works his way up to my neck, then places kisses on my shoulder and halfway down my arm.
I could fall back asleep from his touch.
I smile as he runs his hands down my body, not hungrily but in a loving, gentle way. Slowly rolling over to face him, I see him smile a genuine smile as our eyes meet, my smile matching his.
"Good morning," he quietly says, tucking my hair behind my ear then rubbing his thumb lightly agaisnt my cheek.
"Morning," I respond.
There's something about Eric that makes me feel safe. Even though we were both born into rivaling mafias, that seems to be the last of my worries right now.
"I have to leave soon," he says with an apologetic look, making me frown. "But I'll make you breakfast, since we've already established that you can't cook for shit."
"My spaghetti meatballs weren't that bad," I mumble with furrowed eyebrows.
"Is that why you gagged at the sight of them?"
"Fuck off."
He laughs, causing me to laugh as well.
"Meet you in the kitchen," he says before getting out of bed and putting his pants on, leaving his upper-body bare.
What a sight for sore eyes.
I stretch my arms and let out a yawn before forcing myself out of the comfy bed. I check the time on the wall clock across the bed, and it's 9:03am. I quickly put on a hoodie and shorts before making my way to the kitchen to find Eric standing at the stove. I never realized how attractive it is for a man to cook his own meals. Probably because this is really the first time I've seen such a thing.
"What are you making?" I ask him, rubbing my eyes.
"Bacon and eggs," he shrugs. "I'd cook something nicer but it would take too long, and I'm needed at the compound."
"Oh yeah," I say. "Have the Mexicans done anything?"
"Stole some weapons," he answers. "I don't know how they found the compound, but hopefully they don't find the main one in Italy. Or the safe houses."
"What happens if they find this one?"
"Then I'll move you to a different one. In fact, you can choose," he grins. "Could even take you to Paris, if I wanted to."
"You guys have a safe house in Paris?"
Eric scoffs. "We have safe houses everywhere."
My father's mafia has safe houses too, though there were very few and only located around Russia and America. We had some in Italy, though past events have caused those houses to fall to dust. My father and Adrian should be at one of our safe houses by now. Little does he know, Francisco doesn't even have plans on attacking them, unless I'm wrong. Eric would've told me if the Russians got involved in this war and so far, I'm the only Russian mafia member that has anything to do with it.
Eric finishes cooking my breakfast and arranged the food nicely onto a plate before sliding it to me along with a spoon and fork. I frown when I see he hasn't cooked for himself.
"You're not gonna eat?" I ask him.
"No, I really gotta go."
"Oh, okay," I nod.
He goes back into the bedroom to change into his suit from last night and comes out, adjusting his jacket. "Text me if you need anything," he tells me.
"I will," I respond.
He walks over to me and places a kiss on my temple before exiting the house, leaving me alone to eat my breakfast.
Eric's POV
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I sigh as I arrive once again at the compound after an amazing night with the most beautiful woman I've ever encountered. But now I'm back in reality, and I fucking hate it.
Speedwalking through the hallways, I earn respectful nods from the men filling the space. Grunts and pants is all I hear as well as the sweet sounds of punches and kicks and bodies hitting the floor. Soldiers have still been training non-stop because of this fucking war.
I eventually reach my father's office, where he and my brother are both sitting in. I assume they've been sitting in silence for the past few minutes, since I didn't hear any yelling on my way here.
I open the door and step inside, closing it behind me.
"What happened now?" I ask the two of them. Both of them are staring straight ahead at nothing as if in deep thought.
"Exactly what we predicted," my brother answers. "Actually, worse."
I frown at his answer. "What the fuck do you mean?"
"The Mexicans stole from another warehouse, this time the one in Vegas," Anthony begins explaining. "Only now, they've left behind not one flag, not two flags, but three."
I stand still as I process what he's saying. "Which ones?" I deadpan.
"Mexican, American and Russian mafias."
Anthony stares into space with his elbows on his thighs and his hands forming a triangle shape with his fingers spread apart. I slowly seat myself on the chair beside him.
"Was I wrong?" my dad smiles. "None of this would have happened if that Davina girl died like she was supposed to that night. Now because of her, we're all going to hell."
"I sent men out to surround all our warehouses and safe houses," Anthony brings up. "They're not at the houses and warehouses but they're near, within a twenty-mile radius from each building we own."
"Which safe houses?" I ask him.
"All the ones in America." Thank God. The safe house I left Davina in is in Italy, meaning she is still perfectly hidden.
"Did the Americans ally with the Mexicans?" I stupidly question, but I need a clear confirmation.
"Yes," my brother deadpans.
"And the Russians?!" He nods. "How?! What the fuck would the Russian mafia want to do with this? They could be at peace, but instead they decided to join this war?!"
"Maybe because we kidnapped the boss's daughter, I don't know?" Anthony sarcastically says.
I scoff. "It's not like he wants his daughter back. He doesn't give two shits about Davina."
"And you know this, how?"
"I just do."
"It doesn't matter what they want or why they allied with the Americans. What matters is that it's three against one!" my dad states. "And we're the fucking one."
Before Anthony and I can respond, our conversation is interrupted by a knock on the door.
"Come in," I say.
In walks Alex, with a slightly worried expression on his face. He has a laptop that he's balancing on one hand while the other closes the door, and he makes his way over to the table. All three pairs of eyes are fixated on him as he sets the laptop down for all of us to see. He makes a few clicks before a map appears on the screen.
"What are we looking at?" I lowly ask.
"A map of the United States," he informs. "All these blue dots are where our men currently are. They all have trackers on them so we'll be able to see their current locations at all times as well as their vitals, so we'll know when one of them has died. All of them are alive, but you see this cluster of blue dots over here?" he points to the bottom part of California.
"Yeah?" I reply. "What's going on there?"
"We don't know," he says. "There aren't any safe houses in that area, and I checked everyone's vitals. All of them seem to be okay except for six men whose heart rates have increased rapidly, and their vitals indicate their either panicked or distressed."
Shit.
"Why are they moving?" Anthony asks, studying the map.
"It means those men are currently moving," Alex answers. "Towards Mexico."
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my week has been shit, sorry for the late update