Elena had always trusted her instincts.
That night she wasn't supposed to be there. She had envisioned how her night was going to be. Get back from work, take a long , cool bath in her bath tub , with her favourite drink in hand, sipping while her body gets soaked.
That was how she would have loved to spend her night.
But she was against her better judgement, sitting at this small open space Chinese restaurant closed to the docks. Her online friend had told her to meet with him to see over this new Chinese dish that just recently got out. She she was , waiting with her phone in hand scrolling and a drink the other hand .
She was slowly losing her patient. She had been there for an hour now and there was still no sign of her online friend.
So she was now leaving , mood low as she started her journey to her black Bentley, after she had called her online friend numerous times which went unanswered and texts that went unread. Disappointed, she let her mind wandered as she walked on not realising she had walked into a different part.
She hadn't realised how quite that part was until it was too late.
Her instincts told her to run which she did. That part of the dock had been too quite . By the time she realized something was wrong, a voice was already pleading , shadows moving. Voices carried. Then a gunshot cracked the air.
She didn't think. She ran.
Now, sitting in her small apartment hours later, Elena replayed the moment over and over. The sharp suits. Her hands were still shaking even after she got home, she willed her to stay calm, that she was safe but she couldn't because she had seen something.
She barely slept that and by the time she opened her eyes it was morning. She knew she wouldn't be able to go to work that morning, she was still shaken by the incident at the dock , she needed to stay safe, to stay home and if no one comes looking for her for the next few days, then she could resume her life .
That was what she told her self but fate had a more cruel uet blissful plan for her.
On the third day, she had come back home after running some errands to buy some groceries for her home. She couldn't stop looking over her shoulders while she was out while tightly clutching the pepper spray she had purchased a day before. She tried relaxing when she got home, she was about moving into her kitchen when she heard a noise at her door.
A knock at the door made her heart stop. Her palms were slick with sweat , hands shaking and her breath caught in her throat. Every instinct screamed that she shouldn't open it, but curiosity-and fear-pushed her forward.
With her nerves screamingdanger, she moved toward the door . Few people knew where she leaved. Slowly, she reached for the nearest object she could use as a weapon.
Another knock. Firmer this time.
Peering through the little hole, she saw two men standing at her door pouch. When she opened the door, the men stood there-well-dressed, expressionless.
"Elena Rossi?" one asked.
She swallowed. "Who's asking?"
"We need you to come with us."
"I'm not going anywhere," she said, forcing steel into her voice.
The man smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"It's not a request."
Before she could close the door, she was pushed aside and the men grabbed her arm each.
An hour later, Elena stood in the most decorated and beautiful glass-walled room she had ever seen. And in the middle stood a man.
Alessandro turned as she entered.
Their eyes met-and something shifted.
She shifted nervously but wasn't afraid the way he expected. Nervous, yes. Furious, definitely. But she met his gaze head-on, chin lifted, defiant.
Interesting.
"You brought me here," Elena said, breaking the silence. "Either you plan to kill me, or you plan to explain."
A corner of Alessandro's mouth twitched-almost a smile.
"You have courage," he said. "That can be dangerous."
She crossed her arms. "So can underestimating people."
For the first time in years, Alessandro Moretti felt something unexpected.
Curiosity.
