"The Hacker and the Mob Boss" ❦
Reyna Fields seems to be an ordinary girl with her thick-framed glasses, baggy clothes, hair always up in a ponytail, and her head tucked away behind a computer screen. However, no one knows she's armed with a genius...
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"Let's not forget that you're weak and pathetic. It's no wonder why your mother left you. I would've left you too. Imagine having someone like you as a daughter," he growled.
I couldn't stop my hand from cocking back and slapping him right in the face. The grip he had on my neck quickly faltered. The bits of the stinging sensation that erupted in my hand was nothing compared to the satisfaction of my heart.
I glared at him. "You have no right. Last time I checked, it was you who brought me here. It was you who asked me to help you. I've been fine without your assistance on finding my mother, and I'll be fine once again. You want to talk about Omertà, huh? Well, I already know everything about you Santino. Don't you think it's a bit too late for that? If I were going to tell someone about you, I would've done it a long time ago."
I expected him to hit me, or worse, shoot me. He was a brutal man who I just slapped. The consequences of my actions didn't bother to announce its presence when I reacted. So, when he began to clap, I didn't know how to react.
"You're like a rose. You can fool everyone-possibly even yourself-that you are nothing but a sweet thing full of innocence, but no one sees the thorns, Angel. No one but me," he stated. His words echoed with promise. I didn't know if I should be scared or curious.
He reached over to me, but I was too quick to flinch away from him. My reaction to his touch seemed to coax his jaw into clenching. However, it didn't deter his hand from palming my cheek.
After a few moments, Saint let his hand slide down my cheek and over to my neck. At first, he was allowing the pad of his finger to scrape across my skin. It wasn't until he gripped me in his tight hold that I realized the small amount of generosity he was bestowing upon me, was short lived.
"Don't you ever even think about hitting me again, do you understand me?" He growled. I hurriedly nodded my head in a frenzy, but it wasn't enough to suffice the ego of the devil.
Never hitting him again was already written in stone for me. He was a psychopathic man, who was probably just as crazy as he looked beautiful. The last thing I wanted was to be a huge target for him.
"Y-Yes," I whimpered.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
Saint let go of my neck. Oxygen embraced my lungs madly as if they were friends who hadn't seen each other in so long. Even my hand shot up to my neck as it longed to rub the source of my pain.
