Carefully, I apply a coat of concealer, hiding the excessive number of freckles sprinkled across my face. With uncertain fingers gripping the green pencil liner way tighter than needed, I draw it over the rim of my eyes to enhance my pale green eye color.

It's the first date. I have to look pretty.

Quickly, I put my lip gloss on and adjust the hem of my royal blue shirt. I hide my necklace—the last gift from my mom before her accident—under my shirt as I scrutinize my reflection. 

No wonder why Caleb never notices me.

I'm pale, my face is oval, no defined cheekbones or jawline, and my upper lip is thin, not the perfect heart-shaped or full lips. I drag my index finger down my nose with a faint smile. I like my nose, it's the only feature I like. And my brain. I like the way it works.

I tug on my auburn hair, not knowing what to do with it. After holding it in multiple ways, finally I settle with a bun atop my head and leave a few loose strands of wavy hair framing my face.

Not too professional and neither too casual.

It should do.

Deep shaky breaths in and out, I gather my courage as I slip into my jacket, just in case this spring night decides to take a different path and glide into the colder side of the scale.

I double-check all three locks on my entrance door, including the electric one. If anyone tries to break in, they have to be loud, and hopefully, by then I've been informed and the attempt will be prevented.

It never hurts to be extra careful.

It's been years since my last first date. I was in college— we first became friends, then lovers.

Tonight, I'm meeting someone my college friend—Amber—thought would make a nice boyfriend for me. Although I appreciate the gesture, I don't feel prepared for this sort of commitment. There are too many things I have to take care of. Starting with searching about the Mariano crime family.

I have to prove myself to Dad. And to myself. If I succeed at making my father—one of the best criminal defense lawyers—proud of me, to commence me as a good prosecutor, he'll come to love me the way a biological father is supposed to love his child. It must be the final step in moving on and healing from my past. The past has haunted me for far too long.

Too lost in speculations, I don't notice the awful traffic as I drive.

An hour later, I'm in front of the restaurant, five minutes early. Satisfied, I smile to myself as I walk into the place and the waiter leads me to our reserved table.

It's a nice spot, next to the window with the view of a small park across the street. The cars rush by and my mind replays all the cases I've tackled so far, and the ones I was an intern, learning how to approach cases from senior lawyers. I try fishing out the most effective methods that might work against Marianos.

Perhaps I'm acting too desperate for Dad's approval. For once, I want him to praise me instead of lambasting me as an abortive prosecutor.

I don't want to be the reminder of his failed marriage and the replica of his deceased ex-wife. Instead, I want him to look at me—his only child—and be happy for having me.

I pinch my bottom lip. Am I truly ready to get into a relationship with so many things going on? I need to put my entire focus on my work.

I facepalm, cursing under my breath. I shouldn't have agreed to this date.

It's too late to ditch; when I look up, a tall man, with assured strides is approaching me. His trousers and jacket are black, and the shirt underneath is a white button-up.

A small smile curls his lips. "I'm Aaron, you must be Cerise."

"That's me," I awkwardly say as we shake hands. I try to hide my discomfort with a smile that feels too forced to have a good impression.

He sits across from me. Turning to drape his coat on the backrest, I spy a tattoo beneath the hem of his sleeve.

Instantly my brows furrow, and my lawyer side kicks in, breezing through all the tattoos I know belong to different gangs. Midway I stop myself. This is a date night, not an interrogation. I'm not working. Normal people have tattoos too.

I relax my body. I'm not here to catch his lies and throw him in prison.

"Amber didn't say much about you." He faces me, planting his arms on the table. His hands grasp his wrists, hiding the tattoo I saw. Is he trying to hide it from me?

Stop!

"I'm twenty-six, a prosecutor, and I'm work-oriented." And that sums me up. I think bitterly. Yet, I'm not a good prosecutor.

His bright blue eyes widen. "You sure look like a prosecutor."

My smile falters. What the hell is that supposed to mean! I offer a tight-lipped smile, my fingers fiddling on my lap, under the table. "What do you do?"

His face goes blank. My body automatically tenses. I know that face. That's a face someone makes when they're about to lie.

"I'm in business," he answers a beat too late.

I pretend not to notice. "Like an entrepreneur?"

He nods, his fingers fidgeting with his wristwatch. "Something like that."

Too evasive of an answer. I scrutinize him and he shifts uncomfortably. I didn't earn the title of Cersei of the courtroom for nothing.

A sheen of sweat covers his forehead. I lift a corner of my mouth. "Why are you so nervous? It's not like you're a criminal."

He forces a breathy laugh and leans into his seat, putting up a calm façade. "Not at all. It's just I've never been on a date with someone so intimidating."

So now I'm intimidating? Right. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Maybe I'm being too hard on him. If I wasn't practicing law, I wouldn't have noticed these signs... right?

He reels the conversation away from himself by restlessly asking about me, rarely revealing anything about himself. I keep my answers short. Eventually, I figure out he's more than happy to talk about his adventures in college, with that, I easily escape his questions.

Just as our food arrives, his phone rings. He perks up and without turning, reaches into the jacket's pocket and pulls out his phone.

A small black object falls out of the same pocket and hits the floor. The noise in the restaurant prevents him from noticing.

I play it cool and study his tanned face. Faintly I hear the guy speaking on the other line but fail to understand anything. Either the guy is talking too fast... or in a foreign language.

With an effort, I hold back a frown.

Aaron grows tenser. He hangs up and glances at me apologetically. "I'm so sorry, something important came up. I must leave."

"It's okay." I smile at him. Thank God! Finally!

He swiftly picks up his jacket and hurries out of the restaurant.

The black object is still on the marble floor. With a quick survey to ensure no one is paying attention, I pick it up. A flash drive.

I turn it between my fingers, no number, no brand is inscribed on it. Weird.

I scarf down my meal and pay the bill before hurrying out to my car. I dash down the streets, silently cursing each red light until I reach my apartment and sprint to my house.

I flick the lights on and scan the area. The sofas are aligned with lines of the wooden panels. My TV remote is at the same forty-five degrees on top of a useless magazine. The curtains are completely drawn.

My bedroom is undisturbed. The pile of books in my study follows the same alphabetical order I left them, the bedsheet is smooth. Everything is the same as I had left it. Good.

I trust my locks, but you never know with the mafia, especially when you're not on their side.

With my laptop, I plop down on one of my favorite plush loveseats and cross my legs, planting my laptop on my lap. The moment it comes to life, I shove the flash drive into the USB port and wait.

Thirty seconds go by and nothing happens. Odd. I lean to the screen and skim through the folders. It's like there is no USB to be read. I chew my bottom lip, frowning at the screen. Odd indeed.

I try a few tricks I learned back in my undergrad days at Harvard, but none of them work.

What the hell!

Huffing I lean into the backrest and scratch my forehead. What sort of data could be on this flash drive?

I reevaluate the night. Aaron wasn't very muscular, but he had a tattoo he was trying to hide. His accent was quite normal, but his behavior? Not so much. And the phone call... What if the guy on the other side was Mexican or Italian?

Aaron didn't exactly look like a mafioso... maybe he was one of the associates.

Deep in thought, I draw my fingernails up and down my right cheek.

I give up and pull out the flash, placing the laptop on the coffee table. I snatch my phone, scroll through my contacts until I find Tim, and call him.

On the third ring, he picks up. After a quick greeting, I ask if I can meet him, casually throwing our code phrase 'don't forget to make popcorn' in the middle and he catches it immediately.

It's safer than saying start your mega computers, I need you to breach some security codes for me. Better not take risks. Sometimes, the mobs can be a bit too desperate and find ways of tapping phone calls.

We hang up and I swiftly change into loose mom jeans and a green shirt.

I speed-walk the three blocks, and by the time I reach his place, I'm breathless.

Tim opens the door a few seconds after my second knock. He's wearing an old white shirt with an orange food stain on it. A few days old stubble covers his cheeks and chin, and his blond hair is a mess like he's just gotten out of bed. His place is a mess like always and smells like old junk food but none of it matters as we go to a room in the back of the house.

The three computers are up and running. He throws himself on his chair, I hand over the USB, and he inserts it in a port.

For long moments the constant clicking of his mouse is the only sound. I lean against the wall and cross my arms in front of myself.

After about ten minutes of watching him rub his face, push his thick glasses up his nose, and type fervently on the keyboard, without looking at me, he asks, "Are you in a hurry?"

"Not really, why?"

"This could take hours. I've never seen something so complicated before."

I frown. No way!  He's the best computer programmer I know. If it wasn't for helping his younger brother's lawyer win the case and cut Tim's brother's ten-year punishment to three, I never would've found someone like him to hack into literally anything.

He faces me, rubbing his chin. "The codes are similar to the programs the Russians usually write... I thought you didn't interfere with the Russians."

Oh shit. Colorful curses stream out from under my breath.

Once I pursued a case capable of bringing down one of the active Russian mafias. It was the singular time my dad was scared shitless. Eventually, he talked me out of it.

Oh fuck. Have I gotten myself mixed with them?

Dad will kill me before they do.

"Are you sure this belongs to them?" my voice is shrill to my ears.

Nonchalant, he lifts a shoulder. "Yeah... or maybe someone paid them."

I plant my palms on my hips. Dammit. I should've been more careful. I pace the small room. If they search for it, they'll know it's with me.

"Can you hack into it?"

He nods.

"Do it."

I'm already going to get fucked. Might as well see what's inside.

The spend the following hours being fidgety and constantly moving around, biting my lip, overthinking, and playing with loose strands of my long hair. Until Tim sighs his usual sigh and a small satisfied smile arches his lips.

It's done.

"Thanks." I flash a bright smile at him as he hands me the now easily accessible device.

I grab the flash drive and push it into my front pocket. Tim's gaze bores into me as he stands up and leans on the computer desk.

"Cece," he calls. "Just don't get yourself killed, okay? It's too early for you to die."

I laugh. "Sure, I'll keep that in mind."

After a side hug, I head out of his place and sprint back to my apartment.

Once inside, I sit on the same loveseat with my laptop. My fingers tremble with excitement and anticipation as I stick the USB inside.

I count backward to steady my rapid breathing.

The folder appears on the screen. With a shaky finger, I click on it. Eight folders open. The names of the folders have me gawking.

Each is named after one of the famous mafias. Eight of the most powerful ones. Even the Mariano of Sicily! The mob that rules Mexico for drugs. The other Mexican clan specializing in human trafficking. Two of the others are slightly smaller, but still huge enough to be feared and known by everyone, including Rodríguez. Two of the famous Sicilian mafias and one smaller Italian gang. And the eighth one is a powerful Russian mafia.

I open them in a frenzy and comb through the information for hours. Noting everything while scheming how to approach the cases. With this flash drive, I can destroy the leading figures in these powerful mafias and send them to prison for lifelong sentences.

The evidence I can gather with this information won't let any connection or money save their asses.

These dangerous criminals who've spent decades terrorizing the ones weaker than themselves will spend the rest of their lives in prison.

No one knows better than me how it feels to be pushed around, humiliated, and beaten up by someone stronger. The haunting despair and helplessness that sticks around for years. This won't fix my childhood traumas, but it will prevent these sorts of actions from occurring on a larger scale.

I vibrate with excitement, squealing, and giggling, talking to myself. I bounce around the house, grinning and imagining the aftermath of getting rid of all these criminals. A clean, peaceful world where no one will ever be threatened. The crime rates will plummet and the streets will be safe.

I have the power to do this.

Reality trickles back into my senses. I grab my laptop, and hurry to my bedroom. Rummaging around my work desk's drawer, I fish out three empty flash drives.

Quickly, I copy half of the information and paste it into one, and the other half into the other one. Then I copy the entire data and paste it into my last USB.

I pick up the original one, the slimmest, and go to the bathroom and find a packet of tampons.

After fifteen minutes of engineering, I fix the flash drive inside a tampon, ensuring if somehow anyone decided to search my place, won't be able to recognize it.

I return to my bedroom and choose one of the USBs with half of the information and find the thickest book in my library.

Dad does this with his important data. Back when I lived with him, he had a few books and other ordinary objects in his workroom with spaces inside them for hiding things. I flip open the book and place the USB inside the little carved-out space, and carefully tape the pages together.

The other one contains half of the data, I place inside a small iron figure on my library shelves.

At last, I'm left with the drive consisting of the entire information. I survey the place, mulling over a hiding spot.

My gaze halts on my makeup bag. I squint and return to the bathroom, digging inside the makeup bag. 

Good thing I've always been careful about the size of the flash drivers I buy.

I pull out the red lipstick from its tube and cut out the shape of my USB with a razor. Placing the USB inside the tube, I press the cherry red lipstick down back into its tube. I erase all evidence of my fingerprints and roll it up and down a few times to ensure it's back to normal before dropping it inside my makeup bag.

I groan at my hands and the basin. It looks like I've murdered someone. I wash my hands thoroughly, not leaving a shadow of red behind on my fingers, beneath my fingernails and the sink.

By the time I'm done my arms ache and I plod out of my bathroom, change into my pajamas and head straight to the kitchen.

I down my sleeping pill and dive to my bed.

The pill affects my brain slowly, all the while I brew plans, delving deeper into them. At last, for the first time in a really long while, I fall asleep with a smile.

❈ ☯︎ ❈

This was a rollercoaster of a chapter, sorry it was long, but I just want to get to the real deal asap =) which is going to start from the next chapter ^^

Guys! I was researching Italian body language to flesh out the characters, and there's an article in the New York Times that says they use an average of 250 hand gestures to speak on daily basis!!! OMG! 250! I am speechless :') I am learning too many new things for writing this story xD

I hope you enjoyed it. Don't forget to comment your thoughts and vote if you did ^.^

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading <3