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When I arrived at work, I couldn’t help the little flutter of excitement I felt at the possibility of seeing him today. I berated myself for feeling this way. I was here to do a job, not flirt with my boss. As I hung my jacket and bag up in the security room, Mattio, the head of the house’s security, walked in briskly. He nodded at me once without cracking a smile. He was always so serious.
“Signorina Jones. Signore Buccini is waiting for you in his office. He would like to speak to you before you start work.”
I swallowed my instant nerves. Shit. What was this about? What could I have possibly done in the last few hours to make him need to see me? Perhaps he has changed his mind. Perhaps he is going to fire me now that he has time to let it all sink in. Or maybe the police are here and need a statement from me.
Following Mattio up to the top floor, I fiddled with the elastic band on my wrist and started to pull at it. The elastic snapping back onto my sensitive skin, reminding me that I was okay. That this was real and I needed to stay calm. It was a strategy one of my counsellors suggested to help with my panic attacks. Forcing my hands to do something kept my mind focused and the feel of the elastic stinging my skin with each snap always helped me to remember that I was in control.
Mattio opened the heavy oak door for me and I walked in, my eyes scanning the room. First, I saw Giovanni sitting behind his desk. He slowly stood up and gave me a warm smile, but his eyes still ran over my body quickly and then over my face as if he was checking that I was okay. That was new.
As I stepped towards the chair, I realised we weren’t alone. Turning my head, I saw another man sitting in one of the armchairs with his eyes cast down, hands in his lap which were visibly shaking. I froze. As the man lifted his head and peered up at me, I felt terror run through my body. Now I no longer had the courage of alcohol, facing those bright blue eyes again made me shiver. But I soon regained my composure when I realised that this man looked just as afraid, if not more, as he stared at me. In the light of day, he was nowhere near as scary as he looked last night. Long, dirty brown hair, blotchy skin and a deep scar running down his face. He just looked like someone who had fallen on life’s hard times.
“Olivia. Please take a seat,” Giovanni said, his tone softer than usual. I carefully dragged the chair further away from my mugger, not taking my eyes off him as I sat down.
“What is going on? Why is he here?” I managed to squeak and glanced over at Giovanni.
A slow, mischievous but oh so sexy smile crept up his face.
∞∞∞
Giovanni
The low life street scum was shoved into my office with his hands cuffed and a black bag over his head. He was struggling against my men and cursing in our native language before he was forced down into one of the armchairs opposite my desk.
Angelo had tracked him down easily last night. He was a crackhead living on the streets and there was no loyalty among his people. They wouldn’t think twice about ratting each other out for a little cash or a gram of coke. I leaned back in my padded, leather office chair, resting my elbows on its arms and clasped my hands together. I nodded to Angelo, who pulled off the hood in one swift action, causing the man to blink rapidly against the dawn that was seeping through my window. He was a fucking state.
His blue eyes narrowed as he looked around frantically and then widened when they fell on me. They suddenly filled with worry and I smirked.
“Where am I? Who are you?” he stuttered in Italian, but I didn’t reply. Allowing the tension in the room to grow, I stared menacingly into this man’s eyes. He was a pathetic excuse for a human. So consumed by his addictions, that he probably fucked over every single person who ever cared about him and has lost his way to the point that he goes around attacking women to get a bit of cash.
“I don’t know anything! I haven’t got anything. Please,” he started to beg, and I held one hand up to silence him.
“Do you know Olivia Jones?” I asked calmly.
His face twisted with confusion as he shook his head violently. “No. No, I have never heard that name before. I swear.”
“Ok. Let’s try another one.” I leaned forward, my visible forearms resting on my desk as I twisted my skull ring around my finger. “Do you know Giovanni Buccini?”
His mouth fell open and his blood-shot eyes filled with alarm. “S- si...” I smirked with evil intent and watched as the colour drained out of his face. He knew who I was.
“Good. There is no need for introductions then. Olivia Jones is someone who is very important to Giovanni. Very important to me.”
Sweat started to bead on his forehead as his eyes darted around the room and back to me. “I told you. I don’t know her. There must be a mistake. What is this? Why am I here?”
“Last night... you attacked a couple on the streets. A man and a woman.”
He swallowed slowly and his chest started to rise and fall with panicked breaths. “Yes. I – I took their stuff. I needed money. I had a debt to pay and I- “
I lifted my hand again, not wanting to hear his lame excuses. “You make a habit of attacking women?” My tone was no longer flat but instead took on a sharp edge. He shook his head wildly.
“No – no... she hit me first. She wouldn’t give me the bag! I hardly touched her!” I glared at him as his voice rose with every word, the fear evident. I felt rage and darkness slowly crawling to the surface but kept my control.
“That woman you hardly touched had a fat lip, bruised cheek and blood everywhere.” He opened his mouth and closed it again. “That woman was Olivia Jones.”
He whimpered when he saw the look of rage on my face. “I- I’m sorry! I didn’t know... I won’t ever do it again. I swear... I will... I will do anything.” He pleaded as the tears started to brim in his eyes.
I sighed heavily and cracked my knuckles, the vile sound filling the room. “You will apologise to her.”
“Yes! Yes! Of course!”
