Elio keeps his cool, behaving as though he didn't just figure out men entering the place mean him harm, and one of them could pull the trigger that'll be his end.

My heart is hammering, my gaze darts between him and the South African men sitting before us, and my leg bounces of its own accord.

Tonight might be my last night.

Elio's warm hand lies on my jumping leg, instantly freezing me. My focus drops to his large palm splayed on my bare skin just above my knee. The warmth and the feel of his skin against mine blank my head and my heart skips a beat.

Inhaling sharply, I reach for my glass of wine and deliberately sip. Now I can't tell my heart is pounding because of his warm hand on my thigh or if it's thanks to the men who are gathering to kill us. Perhaps both.

"It's good to hear you've been enjoying yourself, but let's get to why we're meeting tonight. Our business," Elio begins.

The man in the violet suit nods as the one in the maroon perks up.

"I still want those diamonds and platinum. You've been putting it off for long enough now, don't you think?"

The violet one forces out a chuckle. "Yes, but it's about time we renew our conditions and partnership."

Elio arches an eyebrow, as if daring him to say anything unusual, while his thumb keeps lightly brushing from the top to the side of my knee. The movement is soothing and intoxicating. It's impossibly hard to focus on anything but his hand and the growing warmth inside me.

The one in the maroon suit, clearly more daring than his partner, says, "What we'll be sending your way is worth over twenty million dollars. We want you to triple the price you're paying us and give ten percent of what you earn by selling them."

A cruel mocking smile twists Elio's lips, a staggering contrast to his touch. "Anything else?" he sneers.

Both men's faces pinch with annoyance. The one in violet claims, "There are others who are willing to pay even higher than what we're asking from you."

"Really?" Elio picks up his glass of wine, inclines it to them. "Care to enlighten me with the names of these giving men?" He sips his drink; his cold eyes never leave them.

"Don't Sicilians know each other better?"

"You must enjoy working with Sicilians a bit too much, don't you think?" Elio plants his glass of wine on the table and unlocks his phone under the desk, not sparing a glance downwards.

"Is that supposed to mean something?" The one in maroon asks.

Elio's brows furrow and his lips tug downwards as he lifts his shoulder. "As much as we're beneficial in businesses... how to put it... ah, yes. The higher the benefit, the greater the risk."

Elio slides his phone to me under the table and, in a quick glance, I read the note.

'Call Pietro for back up.'

I gulp uncomfortably and clutch the phone, making sure the screen doesn't go off. I wait a few seconds.

The violet dude leans toward the table. "Are you trying to threaten us, Elio Mariano?"

Elio relaxes into his seat, coolly holding the guy's glare. "Have you done something that would need threatening? You should know better," he pauses, glancing at me as though saying it's my cue to leave. He turns back to the men and continues in a dark tone, "I don't throw warnings around."

The violet one shifts on his spot while the other one clenches his jaw.

I push my chair back and stand up, gripping the phone. "Excuse me," I mumble and saunter away.

One of Elio's men follows me closely as I trot to the bathroom. He stands in front of the door as I go inside.

My fingers tremble, and the phone almost slips from my clammy palms. I hurriedly scroll through his contact lists until I spot Pietro and call him.

I pace up and down the luxurious bathroom, with beige-colored marble tiles and a giant chandelier hanging low in the middle. The only woman present sends me an odd glance as she washes her hands.

On the second ring, he picks up. "Si, Capo?"

"Pietro, it's me," I squeak. Shaking my head, I inhale deeply, my fingers fidget with my pendant.

"Cerrise?" he asks with surprise. "Hees Elio hokay?"

"È Cerise? Che c'è, Pietro? È successo loro qualcosa?" Marco's anxious voice from the other line surprises me.

The woman who shot me a weird look walks past me and the door shuts with a soft click.

"No, no, we're fine," I reply urgently. "Just bring backup, a lot of back-ups. Ever since the meeting started, armed men have been getting inside the place. They're up to something. Just please hurry."

"Wherre hees Elio?" Pietro asks, but faint sounds of shuffling tell me he's already set in action.

"He's still with those guys, talking about business deals."

"We weell be therre ina five minuti." And he hangs up.

I release a sharp blow of air, my tense muscles slightly relaxing. I quickly glance at my reflection, pulling myself together and hiding my growing anxiety.

In the note app of Elio's phone, I type, 'it's done. In five minutes they'll be here'.

Gulping a mouthful of air, I mask my trepidation with confidence and stride out.

With the man tailing me, I return to the booth and glide back into my seat, giving Elio's phone back to him under the table. His eyes swipe over the note, his expression remains unaffected and cold as he slides the device back into his trousers' pocket.

"What do you say, Elio? Do we have a deal?" the guy in the violet suit asks.

"No." Elio grabs my hand and raises to his feet, making me comply.

Confused, I watch him with furrowed brows.

"We had a good few years of transactions with you, but our partnership ends right now." His hold tightens on me as he moves past the booth, pulling me along with himself. "Good evening."

Without sparing another glance, Elio heads straight to the other end of the restaurant, the opposite direction we came from.

I hurry to match his long strides. "What happened?" I question in a whisper.

"It has to be Fabris' work. Enzo is busy with bringing out his son from jail and a large part of his business is suffering losses. He's no help to Remo Fabris anymore." He makes a beeline to the double doors, where the kitchen must be placed.

"But the armed men?"

"He still wants you dead, and he's after Fenice business." Elio pushes open the doors with one hand, thankfully tightly holding my palm.

A middle-aged man greets Elio. With his long chef hat, I can only assume he's the head chef. Three long rows of counters are aligned with countless men and women preparing the dishes.

Elio acknowledges him with a nod and reaches for the first cabinet on the entrance doors' right side.

At last, he lets go of me as he opens the drawer and singles out a pair of gloves. I stare at him with increasing confusion.

I glance at the chef's widening eyes. He picks up a spatula and repeatedly slams it against the stainless steel of the nearest countertop across from him. The loud chatter and clanking of kitchen supplies come to an abrupt halt and everyone turns to us.

"Tutti, lasciate la cucina," he announces.

I notice some of the men's eyes sparking with recognition as they spot Elio, immediately putting away whatever they have in their hands; they take off their uniforms.

"Ora!" the chef shouts, snapping the rest of them out of their shocked states.

Without questioning him, the rest empty the place while those who seem to know Elio pull out guns and rifles.

My jaw hits the floor from the spots scattered across the kitchen they pull out their weapons. One of them takes off a tile and underneath it is overflowing with boxes of bullets and under them are even more rifles.

My heart hammers in my chest as I whirl around to Elio. He throws his suit jacket on the counter and slips on the gloves, while quickly saying, "Stay in a corner, always have your back against the wall. Don't go anywhere alone, or with anyone except me or Pietro. Understood?"

I gape at him as he fixes his earpiece.

He steps towards me, locking his eyes with mine, planting his hands on my shoulders. He raises his brows and repeats, "Understood?"

Hesitantly, I nod.

"Don't worry, nothing will happen to you. These things are common. It'll probably only last a few minutes and we'll all head home safely."

Home. That word is fucking laughable.

He straightens himself and tabs on his earpiece. "Pronto."

I tilt my head, observing him as though I can hear who's on the other line, or even understand what's going on. From the way Elio's features harden, and pinch together, whatever the news is, can't be good.

"Uccidi tutti tranne tre e per ora voglio quei bastardi vivi." He shifts on his spot, monitoring the door. Another moment goes by before he taps his earpiece. [Kill everyone except three of them and I want those bastards alive for now]

"Don't go out, Fabris' men are everywhere." Elio glances at me and I nod again. He turns to the men standing between the aisle with their firearms.

"Uccidi tutti finché il posto non è libero." [Kill everyone until the place is clear] He points at the door and goes on, "Quattro da quella parte." [Four that way] Then he waves at the back door, and adds, "Il resto di voi uomini aiutate gli altri uomini." [The rest of you men help other men]

The men set into motion. Four of them hurry past us, going into the restaurant and the other three men leave through the backdoor.

I warily gaze at Elio as he brings out his gun and clicks off the safety pin. Securing it in one hand, he holds out his arm for me. With unsteady steps, I move to him and he pulls me closer before enveloping my hand in his palm and walking toward the middle of the second and third aisles from the right.

The chattering sound from the outside slowly subsides, making me guess the hotel's staff are probably leading the normal people outside.

Just as the place falls into a semi-quietude, a loud gunshot echoes in the area. I flinch, causing Elio's hold to tighten on me. He leads me behind himself as he turns to face the double doors. Another gunshot pierces across the place.

I wince and squeeze my eyes shut.

For a long second, deadly silence grips the place. My heartbeat pounds in my ears as I hold onto the cool countertop.

The next second, chaos erupts.

A distant sound of alarm goes off and on cue, an uncountable number of guns are fired. Elio tenses, his back going rigid as he holds out his firearm, ready to shoot.

I focus on my breathing and fix my eyes on the door. The noise is so loud I can't hear my terrified thoughts.

Never in my life did I think I'll be stuck in the middle of an inside mafia war on its freaking battlefield.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

The chapter turned out longer than expected (it turned almost into 4k which I think it's too much for 1 chapter) and I cut it in half, I hope it hasn't ruined the flow and you guys enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment your thoughts!

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ♡