✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐑𝐨𝐛𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧
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We sat down in silence for a few moments. It was strange sitting beside each other without any of us having a reason to fight or argue. As I sat through the awkward silence and subtle clinking of our cutlery I realized that we truly had nothing to talk about. I knew nothing about him. And he didn't really know me.
I heard a couple of giggles come from the hall near the kitchen. I knew it was Lucia. She told me she hoped one day me and "the master" would get along more. And I, secretly, shared her opinion.
"So, how was work today?" I asked suddenly after slightly clearing my throat.
"Fine." Niccolò coldly answered.
I hated when he did that. I'm usually a pretty talkative person. I'm used to sitting at the dinning table and having conversations of just about anything that's been happening recently. But with Niccolò it was the complete opposite.
"So what is it that you do?" I asked to try and start at least a simple conversation. I then whispered, "You know, besides being a criminal?"
Niccolò gave me an annoyed stare.
"Forgive me, sir. I was just trying to find out more about my supposed husband." I said once again being sarcastic.
"Come on, seriously, what is it that you do? I'm interested." I insisted with a playful tone in my voice.
I guess I found it amusing how bipolar he was. One moment he was so playful and confident and the next he was so serious like a grumpy grandpa. I guess he found it funny too since I swore I saw an actual smile form on his lips for a moment.
He sighed in defeat. "I own hotels and buildings here in the US and in a couple other continents. It's a good business. One I had always dreamed of owning actually."
He spoke a bit more freely now, as if my calmness had rubbed off on him. I noticed that he probably acts so serious because he forgets that in the end, I'm just a girl. And while we do argue and drive each other into incontrolable madness, I don't really have any sort of intention to harm him. Unlike the people he probably had to deal with every day. I suppose he has to have a barrier to protect and defend himself 24/7. Which made me even more curious to find out why.
"Well, what about your secret business? I mean I notice things Niccolò. I know that you're a criminal."
He laughed softly at that.
"Are you a drug dealer?"
"Come on. That's one of the worst insults
you have said to me." He said nodding his head.
"Why?" I laughed softly.
"Do I look like the kind of guy who sells drugs?"
"Maybe, I mean what else could you possibly do?" I said, even though he didn't look like drug dealer at all.
Then again, he did not look like a criminal either. If anybody looked at him they'd think he walked straight out of a Valentino magazine photo shoot. Or that he was the rich son of a CEO, or a maybe very exclusive nightclub owner. But definitely not
a murderer.
"I don't associate my business with lowlife junkies, if that's what you're assuming."
"I didn't mean it like that, I'm just saying you could be like El Chapo or something. You just sell large quantities of it to others. You don't necessarily have to get involved with these 'lowlifes' as you call them."
"You're saying that being a narcotics trafficker is better than being a drug dealer?"
"Niccolò," I frowned, "you're changing the subject. Seriously what kind of criminal are you?"
"This whole criminal thing, as you say, was always my father's crazy idea. I never wanted to get involved in it. But when my father died, he left me to deal with the debt he had owed many other powerful men, so I had no other choice but to keep up with my responsibilities. Besides, the living I made from that helped me gain ownership of many hotels and notable buildings in the country, so I suppose it's not all bad." He said lastly. The tone in his voice made me think that he did deem it as bad as the word could describe.
"I'm still not so sure what you mean by criminal life. You're not really clearing that up."
I mentioned.
"We sell weapons." He said taking a sip from his drink.
"You make weapons?" I asked.
"I don't Princess, my father did. My main guy does it for me now. I try to stay away from it as much as I can. But it's difficult to keep my fathers old "friends" off my back."
"Well can't you just tell them you can't make them anymore?" I asked innocently. He laughed softly.
"It's more complicated than that. You see, once you're in this business it's impossible to get out. Besides, my father was one of the most well known manufacturers in Italy. I can't escape from the many people my father had a commitment with. So I'm afraid my options are limited. On that matter at least."
It surprised me to know he wasn't a criminal by choice. I mean, in a way he was, but he only did so because he felt a commitment with his father. I know how much I love my father, I don't think there's anything I wouldn't do for him.
So in a twisted way, I understood where he was coming from. He was actually a normal person with dreams like any other. He just got involved in things he wasn't supposed to and at a very young age. Now this was his life. And he feels there's no escape from it and his responsibilities.
But as I looked into his eyes I remembered he has killed people before.
Despite whatever he's been through, he could still decide to do what's right. All of my feelings for him had shifted, as I remembered who he truly was.
"I just don't understand. You seem smart enough to become an architect without the need to kill somebody." I added bitterly, failing to conceal my previous thoughts or alter them in the name of keeping a diplomatic conversation.
"It's alright if you don't. I don't expect a girl of your ordinary background to do otherwise."
He remarked slyly.
Apparently, he didn't care for diplomacy either.
I failed to repress a scoff.
"You know, I've been thinking that it is just so funny how every time you insult me you're only insulting yourself."
Niccolò raised his brow to indicate an
await for my response.
"Well, no man in his right mind would marry a girl he deems unworthy or unsuitable. So you must have been very desperate. I'm sure that the going rate for dating a serial killer is extremely low."
"Oh, yes. You'd be surprised at how desperate I was to get in my hands a woman of such high prospects and wise enough maturity to add to my life, such as yourself."
"Oh, you are just so!—" I called out, failing to keep my composure. "You think that nobody can see through you. But I certainly can. In fact, it was so easy to figure you out. I have completely discovered your motives for being the arrogant and demented individual that you are." I said smiling in contempt at his stern gaze.
"It seems you have been studying me."
He said, to my surprise, with an impenitent smile.
"Oh, yes I have."
I replied regardless.
"What have you found?"
He asked attentively. Much to my demise I realized he was beginning to find this entire ordeal amusing.
"I find that you are entirely much too careless about anybody else's opinions. You believe that your actions have no consequences, at least not terrible ones. And whenever your actions do hold a negative impact, as long as it doesn't concern you, you don't deem it worthy to trouble yourself about."
"I'm flattered."
He said. Shocking me once again.
"Flattered, you?"
I asked failing to hide my surprise.
"I'm glad to know I occupy your mind long enough for you to come to such conclusions."
He said despicably.
"You aren't in my mind as much as you'd like to think. And yes, I'll admit I did have to think about you long enough to come to final conclusions about you. All but one."
I said bitterly tasting defeat.
"Which one?"
He asked.
"I fail to understand your motives for buying me. That I can't seem to get." I admitted.
"Well, first I'd like to hear your guesses."
He spoke.
"Well," I began. "in order for me to fully comprehend your reasons I needed to dive into the most horrible and vile place on earth, a man's mind." I said reproachfully.
To this, Niccolò only chuckled softly.
"And after diving into that terrible, horrible place I managed to come up with two guesses."
Niccolò propped his hand on his chin as if inclining that he was ready to patiently listen to what I had to say.
"Number one. I was afraid that you purchased me only for the advantages that a female could offer a man. Especially to one as possessive as you are, it would be preferable if that woman wasn't anyone but his wife."
"You considered that possibility?"
He asked as surprised as I was with my own transparency.
"Yes, I gagged at that one."
I glared at him slightly to catch his reaction, only to be met with the fact that Niccolò was amused rather than displeased. "But that can't be so. Since you only ever touch me to move me out of your way."
"And two?"
He asked taking a sip of his wine with a smile still present on his face.
"Two is that you needed someone to pose for cameras to give the illusion that you lead a perfect, crime-free life. Then again, that contradicts what I previously said about you not caring about anybody else's opinions. So that leaves me lost, and without answers." I sighed sarcastically.
I was afraid that he would pull a Conti and ignore my questions once again. I figured that flattery might push his prideful soul to give into my inquisitions. So I added something else.
"I mean you're Niccolò Conti. The "famous business man" many people look up to you. You're quite well known. I'm sure there's many actual Brazilian models who would die to be your wife. You don't know me, and I don't know you. It seems like you don't even enjoy my company. So why pick me? Why waste your money on somebody who doesn't love you? And this time, tell me the truth." I asked.
He huffed out a small laugh once again. Talking to him was like trying to figure out a puzzle or something.
He hesitated for a moment before speaking.
"Because you're forced to stay with me because of your father. Other women stay with me because of my money. But when they they find out who I really am they run away, despite of how much money I may have. But you, you care so much about your father you're willing to stay beside me for the rest of your life just to help him." He said as he looked at me with those terrible menacing eyes of his.
I stayed silent. I didn't know how to reply. His honesty scared me. Even if I didn't truly know if he was telling the truth or not.
We finished our dinner in tangible silence and we walked to the patio to begin another conversation.
"How do you know Borecci?" I asked sitting down on the bench besides the glistening pool.
"He was an old friend of my father. Until he betrayed him, and killed him."
"Borecci killed your father?" I asked.
I couldn't believe that man was capable of doing such horrible things to so many people. And just what was his problem?
"Yes. He did." Niccolò mentioned coldly.
I couldn't figure out if he was truly bothered by it or not. He seemed like he didn't care. His whole demeanor showed how indifferent that was to him. He had a barrier surrounding him. A mask that wouldn't let anyone ever see his true feelings. But I saw them. They revealed themselves in his eyes. He was hurt. And he missed his father.
"I guess Borecci killed someone we both loved." I mentioned.
Saying it out loud made me realize that we had a common enemy.
Niccolò didn't reply to that.
"I'm gonna head inside. Tired." Niccolò spoke placing one hand in my shoulder before turning around and going back inside the house.
He was so weird. I didn't get him at all. No matter how many times I tried to convince myself and him that I understood his character, I knew I was far from digging into the glacier that was Niccolò Conti. He was ultimately a strangely complicated person.
Although, I did see something tonight that I hadn't seen in all the moments I had spent with him, I saw another side of him. The good person he could be, if only he tried to be.
I suppose he would never be the man he could've been if only he hadn't gotten caught up in the life his father gave him. I still knew there was something about him. Something so fascinating.
Maybe it was myself whom I didn't understand. I hated the way my feelings towards Niccolò shifted so abruptly. Yet, I couldn't help but want to make it my duty to melt the ice that was his heart.
I went upstairs to my room. As I lay in bed I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened with our family.
Why did Borecci kill my mom, and then kill Niccolò's dad? Or was it the other way around?
I didn't understand anything. I felt frustrated. I knew Niccolò wouldn't tell me the truth for some reason. I had a terrible feeling. I felt like it was all connected somehow. It must be bad.
Considering how Niccolò always avoided talking about the subject.
But why were my parents targets to this
criminal? Why is he now onto my daddy?
I turned over on my bed as I tried to look at the moon in an attempt to find some peace, but I couldn't as more questions and thoughts about my family clouded my mind.
The cloudy sky quickly covered up the moon, thunder lit up the room in a sudden flash. I felt like I was loosing my mind. Maybe I could get my stepmother to tell me more about my family's past. I haven't spoken to her in a while. I didn't want to speak with her.
But I couldn't stand to live without knowing the truth. I had to find out the truth about my family that no one would tell me. Maybe she knew. Or maybe she didn't.
I let out a long sigh as I hugged the pillow beside me. Falling asleep peacefully was something I didn't recognize anymore.
I closed my eyes to try and get to sleep but to no avail. I got up from my bed and grabbed my robe. I needed to clear my head.
I walked out of my bedroom and stood by the large windows that overlooked the pool. It was raining now. The sky was covered in a blanket of grey clouds. I pulled the robe tighter over my body as I felt a cool gust of wind blow behind me.
My bare feet felt cold as I walked downstairs. I walked though the halls of Niccolò's mansion to a place I haven't been in before.
It was an elevator that led to a hidden floor. I looked around to see if anyone was there to see me then I pressed the button that would lead me downstairs.
I stepped out of the elevator and walked into the large space. It didn't look like any ordinary basement but it was underneath the home.
The large shiny marble floored basement had paintings much like the ones in his room.
The main focus of the room was his silver Aston Martin, a black Porche, a vintage navy blue Mercedes that looked like something out of a 50s film, and in the middle, a cherry red Ferrari.
I walked up to it and softly traced my fingers along the bright red paint that shone underneath the lights on the ceiling. This would make a great nail polish color, if I ever grew tired of my French nails.
To the left of the room, besides his collection of Harley Davidson motorcycles, we're some fancy leather couches and a dim lit up bar at the end of the room.
Beside the entrance was a large steel door. The door was open so I placed my hand on the metal and pushed the heavy door a bit further.
I turned on the lights to reveal a variety of guns hung against the metal walls of the small closet. I didn't know so many kinds of guns even existed. I walked inside to get a closer look at them.
One of the guns on display had the words "Conti, Inc." engraved in them. He really does make weapons, I thought.
A small glistening gun grabbed my attention. I noticed the small weapon had crystals embedded on it. I moved closer to where it was displayed and inspected it closer.
That gun had a different engraving on it. I swiped the dust off with my thumb that revealed the letters M.C. carved on the handle. I tried to figure out what that stood for when suddenly I heard footsteps come from behind me.
Niccolò walked into the room.
"What are you doing here?" Niccolò asked as he walked closer.
He was wearing a robe but he wasn't wearing a shirt underneath. Making his bare chest visible underneath the dark fabric.
"I'm sorry, the door was open." I replied.
"I didn't know you had such interest in weapons." He said jokingly.
"I don't. I was just curious as to what was written on it that's all." I mentioned.
I was glad he wasn't upset about finding me in here. I had to admit that being around Niccolò made me a little bit nervous. I didn't know what he could do or say next. He was very unpredictable.
"This one was my father's. He told me to keep and take good care of it. " He said pointing to the other gun on display. It was a large silver hand gun. It locked much heavier than the previous one.
"If you hate your father that much then
why do you keep it?" I asked.
"I blame him for my mothers death. But
that doesn't mean I hate him."
"That seems fair." I mentioned. We remained silent for a moment. It felt strange to have a somewhat normal conversation with him.
"What do these words mean?" I pointed to the gun I saw previously that was covered in diamonds.
"I'm not sure. My father told me to take good care of that one as well." He answered, removing it from the display and looking at the words himself.
"It must mean something important. I never thought I'd ever compliment a gun but this one's really pretty. Very feminine." I mentioned.
"Do you wanna learn how to use it?" Niccolò suddenly asked suggestively looking at me.
I laughed. But Niccolò still had a blank expression on his face.
"Are you serious?" I asked him.
"Why not? We both can't sleep, we might as well do something interesting."
"I can't." I looked into his eyes, Niccolò was much taller than me, so I had to tilt my head up to do so. Especially if he was standing as close to me as he was now.
"Come on." He led me out of the room and into a shooting range built into his basement.
That was so expected of him.
"Only you would have something like this their basement. You know most men are just as happy with only a pool table as their entertainment." I joked. I make terrible jokes when I'm nervous.
Niccolò closed the door behind us.
"Here, put these on." Niccolò handed me some earmuffs.
I put one of them on my ear and let the other sit behind my ear so could still listen to his instructions.
"Niccolò, seriously I have no idea how to do this." I spoke, a terrible excuse to hide the fact that I was pretty afraid.
"I'll teach you."
He then stood behind me and held my hands along with his own. I could feel his heavy breathing on my hair. He guided me as he helped me aim at the targets on the other side of the room.
His hand dwarfed mine as he placed it on top of mine to place my fingers where they should be.
"Place your pointer finger on the trigger." His soft words send shivers down my spine.
I did as he told. I wasn't planning on actually pulling the trigger. I was just wondering whether Niccolò trusted me enough to handle one of his guns.
"This isn't loaded is it?" I asked. Niccolò didn't reply. He chuckled softly behind me.
He let my fingers loose leaving me holding the weapon by myself.
"Pull it." He demanded before placing my earmuff on my remaining ear and taking a step back to watch me.
"That's all I have to do?" I asked.
He nodded a 'yes' in response.
Not thinking anything of it I pulled the trigger which resulted in a powerful sound echoing throughout the room.
The gun wasn't actually loaded. It only fired blanks.
"You did it." Niccolò stated.
"Huh?" I asked, removing the earmuffs.
"I didn't think you would pull the trigger." He mentioned before taking the glittery weapon
away from my grasp.
"I knew you wouldn't trust me enough to hold a loaded gun. I see you see me as a threat." I joked.
"Trust is something that needs to be earned."
He spoke before he headed to a cabinet
near the exit.
He grabbed a few bullets from a box and placed the on his hand as he put them inside the gun one by one.
My eyes fixed on his hands as he did who knows what to load and prep the gun. His muscles flexing at the movements.
"Do it for real this time."
He handed me the loaded gun.
"You're kidding, right? Niccolò, what makes you I think I'll ever even hold a loaded weapon?"
"You wanna earn my trust or not?"
He asked.
Not really, I thought.
I don't know why but I took the gun from his hand anyway.
"Aim." He demanded as he watched me.
I aimed at the target at the other side of the room. I pulled the trigger, the weapon sending sparks along with a loud bang inside of the room. I missed the man shaped target, the bullet went over his head.
"Relax."
Niccolò spoke.
"Try again."
I did as he told. I aimed for the center where the bullseye was, but this time the bullet didn't even make it near the target.
"Niccolò, I really don't wanna keep going this."
"Don't give up now— you're close.
Focus. Relax your body." He stepped closer to me.
He stepped behind me once again to guide my movements. Why did he have to smell so good?
His large hands, were placed firmly around my waist to position himself behind me. He lowered his head so his cheek barely brushed against my very own red one.
I froze against against his back. I was sure I was breathing one time per minute. I could hear a huff of amusement come out of his nose.
"I know you like me, but you gotta control yourself."
I turned my head to meet his gaze. His eyes were perfect. Not a hint of fear inside of them. Just complete arrogance and pure confidence lingered inside those blue irises.
"Stop flattering yourself, it's the weapon it makes me nervous." I lied.
"Hm." Was all he hummed in response.
He removed his hands from my waist and placed them on my hands.
"Aim." He commanded.
I lifted my arms with his hands still pressed tightly against mine and the gun.
"Strong." He almost hummed.
"What?"
"You. You have to be strong. Your arms firm. The weapon doesn't scare you, I can see that. Your arms just aren't used to it."
He removed his hands from my fingers, then slowly began to trail the top of his fingers downwards to my wrist, then slowly down to my forearm, stopping to hold my bicep in his hand. As if admiring my skin, examining how delicate and fraile it was compared to his.
"You're very small. Like you're made of glass." He said almost astounded.
"But if you shoot as hard as you slap I think we'll be in good hands."
He chuckled softly and I couldn't help but do the same.
"Just relax." He said lastly before placing the earmuff back on my ears stepping back to watch.
I sighed. I aimed right for the center of the target. I pointed the gun and was ready to pull the trigger.
I breathed and tried to relax my muscles like he told. I realized that each time I pulled the trigger I would shut my eyes. I couldn't help it, the sudden noise made me shut them unconsciously.
This time I'll force myself to keep them open, I thought as I lifted the gun and aimed at the figure, not at the center target, but at the head this time.
I breathed and placed my finger on the trigger. I ignored Niccolò's fixed stare on my hands that grasped the gun tightly.
I took a deep breath and I pulled the trigger.
The figure's head now had a bright burning hole right at the center of his forehead.
My eyes went wide. I couldn't believe I had actually just made the perfect shot. Even if the first few had failed.
"I did it!" I said triumphantly and turned my body towards Niccolò.
"Whoa," Niccolò quickly dodged the gun that was accidentally pointed at him.
"Oops, sorry." I didn't realize I was still holding a loaded weapon in my hands.
"Let's get this away from you." He smiled before taking the gun away from my hands.
I couldn't help but feel somewhat accomplished after aiming at the target. I had probably never even seen a real gun up close before meeting Niccolò, and now here I was, shooting up mannequins in his basement.
We walked out of his personal shooting range and Niccolò put the weapon back in its display.
"I told you you could do it."
He mentioned before closing the door to the gun room, locking it this time.
I smiled. He could be strangely sweet sometimes.
Only sometimes...
"Niccolò I've been meaning to ask you, why did you help that little girl from Spain?"
He looked pretty surprised by my question.
"How do you know about that?" He asked. He didn't seem too thrilled about me bringing up his good deed.
"She told me." I responded.
His eyes hardened and his body stiffened at my words. "I told you not to speak to them."
That same, mean, cruel, expression was on his face once again.
His moments of "kindness" lasted less than a few seconds. I could feel an argument cooking up
again between us.
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