Page 2 of The Hitman's Seduction

Angela

The Catch

I stare at the window relentlessly. From my study and determined investigation, I know that he comes here for lunch every now and then. It's not consistent, I know, but that's probably to distract whoever might be tailing him from understanding his schedule. I know the works of criminals like this. I'm also sure there's no one he can trust, hence the reason he comes here himself to collect the meal.La Belle Languedoes offer some of the best steaks in this area…at the small price of just two hundred bucks for whatever basic meal plan you're getting, with the option to beef it up further. Privatization and its rip-offs can't get any more fascinating.

Sure enough, after my third day of waiting for him, the criminal shows up. I know from the black Mercedes Maybach with the license plate “MY-BACH," which is a cool way to assert ownership of a vehicle, I must admit. When he steps off the car, I let out an exhale.

My breath wasn’t taken away. I let it out.

The man is sturdy, and screams influence, power, class, and elegance, but that is just looking. Beyond that demonically handsome face and beast-mode body that has a surprisingly seductive fit in a three-piece suit lies a cold-blooded killer…and he needs to be brought down along with the rest of his cohorts.

He saunters into the restaurant and is given a sycophantic welcome by waiters and ushers looking for the healthy tip that would come out of his pocket later on, after the meal. He then proceeds to wordlessly make his order at the counter…a gesture that no one here does. The vast majority of them usually just sit and wait, but I'm guessing his paranoia won't let him sit in the oblivion of what is being put in his food. When that is done, and his food is ready, surprisingly, within minutes, he has a waitress carry it and lead the way to his table. After a futile pass at his attention, the waitress, who is really blessed with curves enough to make me wonder why she isn't a model or some sort of influencer, leaves on dismissal, promising to come back and check on him.

The unnecessary things these people do.

As soon as I sense the coast is clear enough, I make my way hastily to his table and sit on the chair opposite his.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Russo." I greet him. Instead of answering me immediately, he takes more healthy bites out of his steak. "I'm sorry to interrupt you at this time, but I'm sure you have a moment or two to spare."

"No." He grunts and takes a fork full of spiced rice serving on the side that makes my throat bob. There's no way I'm spending two hundred-plus dollars on a meal, though. That's enough to take me through the week, and I consider myself a heavy food spender.

“I’m afraid it’s really important.” I insist.

“If it was, you’d have come to talk since the…” he pulls out his phone briefly to check something out “…ah, that’s about it. Since the twenty-seventh of March.”

Oh. He’s known all along.

“Well, let’s just say the urgency increased.”

“It’ll wait until I’m done with my meal." He finalized that chapter and got back to eating. I don't even bother talking again because I know nothing I say would be of any consequence. Men like this keep to their word more than anything. That's the kind of training the Mafia gives you. Premium character but has the wrong motivation. I can’t change that about him, but I can make sure he’s in a position not to hurt any other person.

Jail

He takes his precious time, and I'm left to just try my best not to look at him until he's through, making it the most awkward twenty minutes of my life, which feels like an eternity.

He cleans off his mouth, takes in the full glass of water, and then focuses his mesmerizing green eyes on me. "Speak."

Let's see how much authority he has once he's confronted with the possibility of being incarcerated for life.

"Let's start with the basics. I'm Angela Braun." I stretch out my hands to shake his, trying to maintain as much professionalism as possible. He takes it briefly, but his grip is firm and confident. Nice?

“I assume three months of monitoring gets you way more than my name.”

He's right. I have a lot of information about him.

“I hope it doesn’t bother you so much.” I try to make him relax about the whole stalking thing. This could be a lawsuit against me if he’s smart with it.

“Oh, no. You're not my biggest threat. A private investigator, looking for death about maybe my company or something, looking for any form of irregularities in my file to either send me to jail or my company down the mud is another Thursday. I'd have preferred you stayed away and kept doing as much gathering as you could." He almost slurs like he's bored with this kind of conversation.

If he got all that from just mere detection of my presence all this while, then I have a lot more on my hands than I estimated. I knew he was smart. Just…not this smart.

"Well, I would have kept to that, but I just thought of offering you a proposition." I smile coyly to keep an unaffected façade and hide my surprise.

"I don't accept." He says bluntly without even hearing what I have to say. I go on, nonetheless.

"I would exclude you from my prosecution if you tell me all you know about the Ricci family," I say. His jaw immediately tightens, and I know that I've struck gold.

“However you know about the Ricci family, I advise you to un-know it as soon as you can. There's too much there for you to handle, you frail little thing." He coos sarcastically, but there's this glint in his eye that assures me that I'm on the right path. Just as I open my mouth for another statement, my phone buzzes, and I take it out to see my Boss calling me. The time at the top left of my phone's display shows me that I'm more than ten minutes late for our meeting.

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