1. Princessa
Emma’s POV
The sun spilled through the thin cracks of the curtains in soft golden lines, warming the dark walls of my apartment.
Birds chirped obnoxiously outside the window, determined to drag me into consciousness. I groaned into my pillow before finally throwing the blankets off my body.
Cold air kissed my bare skin instantly.
Rude.
I stretched across the plush mattress with a yawn, staring blankly at the ceiling while mentally preparing myself for another thrilling day of pretending my life was normal.
My phone rang from the nightstand beside me.
Unknown number.
I grabbed it with a sigh and answered anyway. “Hello?”
A distorted male voice spoke calmly through the speaker.
“I have a job for you. Heers Park. Noon.”
Click.
The line went dead.
I blinked at the phone for a second before tossing it back onto the nightstand.
“Well...good morning to you too.”
Another mystery client. Another anonymous hit. Another person somewhere out there deciding who deserved to live or die while I played delivery service.
Honestly? At least it paid well.
I pushed myself out of bed and wandered toward the bathroom, catching my reflection in the mirror along the way.
Dark hair tangled from sleep. Bare face. Faint bruising near my ribs from a previous job that had gotten a little too exciting. Nothing new.
I smiled at myself anyway.
Fake it till you make it, Emma.
That little motto had gotten me through most of life.
I got dressed quickly before grabbing my keys and heading downstairs to my car. The crisp autumn air hit me immediately, carrying the scent of rain-soaked pavement and coffee from the café down the block.
Now that sounded heavenly.
Twenty minutes later I sat near the window of my favorite coffee shop, wrapped around a warm cup of bourbon vanilla latte like it was an emotional support item.
The café buzzed with life around me.
Couples laughed together over breakfast sandwiches. College students complained about assignments that they definitely waited until midnight to start. Someone’s little kid kept smashing sugar packets open on the table while his exhausted mother looked seconds away from a breakdown.
Normal people.
I watched them quietly over the rim of my cup.
Sometimes I wondered what it would’ve been like to have a life like that. Friends. Family. Stability.
People who expected you to come home.
Instead, I learned young that loneliness was easier when you smiled through it. People asked fewer questions that way.
So I smiled a lot.
By noon, I arrived at Heers Park right on time.
Orange and crimson leaves scattered across the pavement as a chilly breeze swept through the trees. Children laughed somewhere in the distance while joggers passed by without sparing me a second glance.
I sat casually on a bench, one leg crossed over the other, looking more like a girl enjoying the weather than someone waiting to receive murderous instructions.
Slow footsteps approached from behind.
I didn’t move.
A man dressed in a black trench coat and hat sat beside me without a word. Definitely not suspicious at all.
He handed me a folded piece of paper.
No greeting. No explanation. Then he stood and walked away as silently as he’d arrived.
I stared after him briefly before unfolding the paper.
Attached to it was a photograph. Dirty blond hair. Sharp jawline. Expensive suit. Sunglasses covering his eyes despite the nighttime photo.
Annoyingly attractive.
I tucked the picture into my back pocket before reading the details beneath it.
Matteo Della Morte
Next known location: OMNIA Nightclub — 8:00 PM
Assignment: Kill
I stared at the words for a moment.
“Well,” I muttered to myself, “this should end terribly.”
A crowded nightclub wasn’t exactly ideal for an assassination. Too many witnesses. Too many variables. Too many drunk idiots stumbling into bullets.
Still...money was money.
And I’d survived worse.
Probably.
By 7:45 PM, I sat in my black Dodge Challenger behind OMNIA Nightclub, mentally preparing myself for the chaos ahead.
Bass-heavy music thundered through the streets hard enough to vibrate my steering wheel. Even from outside, the scent of smoke, alcohol, perfume, and bad decisions lingered heavily in the air.
The club itself glowed with neon lights, packed with people desperate to forget themselves for a few hours.
Relatable.
I checked my reflection one last time in the mirror.
The short strapless black dress hugged my figure perfectly while my raven hair fell in soft waves down my back. Glamorous enough to blend in. Dangerous enough to get close.
I slid on a cropped leather blazer that hid a small pocket knife, and my mini revolver. Thankfully I scoped out the nightclub after receiving my assignment, and hid a few of my favorite toys in the VIP room Matteo allegedly always reserved.
“Everything happens for a reason, ” I repeated to myself.
Or maybe that was complete bullshit.
Either way, it was time.
The second I stepped inside OMNIA, the sound swallowed me whole.
Bodies moved together beneath flashing crimson lights while music pounded through the massive dance floor. Laughter echoed from VIP sections overhead as bartenders rushed to keep up with endless drink orders.
I made my way toward the bar carefully, ignoring the stares following me through the crowd.
“A vodka cranberry, please,” I told the bartender.
“I’ll take the same as her, and put it on my tab.”
I turned slowly, and there he was.
Matteo DeRicci leaned casually against the bar beside me like he belonged there more than anyone else in the room.
The photo hadn’t done him justice.
Not even close.
His expensive black suit fit him perfectly, emphasizing broad shoulders and an athletic frame. His dirty blond hair was slightly messy in a way that looked intentional, and his sharp features somehow balanced dangerous and charming at the same time.
Worst of all?
He smiled at me.
Confidence. Warm. Effortless.
The kind of smile that made people trust him when they absolutely shouldn’t.
“Who said I wanted you to buy me a drink?” I smirked.
“Can’t a guy buy a pretty lady a drink?”
“Pretty?” I repeated teasingly. “That’s the best opener you’ve got?”
He laughed softly.
“I’d like to think I’m more creative than that.” His eyes drifted over me briefly before meeting mine again. “But honestly, you’re a little distracting.”
Smooth.
Dangerously smooth.
The bartender slid our drinks toward us, and Matteo raised his glass slightly.
“To distractions.”
I clinked my glass against his with a grin. “Cheers.”
His smile widened.
Oh no. He was funny too.
That felt unfair.
We ended up on the dance floor minutes later, surrounded by flashing lights and pulsing music. My hips moved naturally to the rhythm while Matteo stayed close without ever crossing a line.
That surprised me.
Most men in clubs treated dancing like an excuse to forget basic human decency.
But Matteo never grabbed too hard. Never pushed. Never acted entitled.
He simply danced with me.
Like he was genuinely enjoying my company.
And somehow...that made this worse.
“You know,” he said near my ear over the music, “you don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this.”
I laughed lightly. “That sounds slightly insulting.”
“I mean it as a compliment.”
His eyes held mine under the red lights.
For one dangerous second, I almost forgot why I was here.
Almost.
“I’m tired,” I announced eventually. “Buy me another drink?”
He offered me his hand immediately.
And like an idiot, butterflies exploded in my stomach when I took it.
The VIP room upstairs was quieter, dimly lit with expensive furniture, and the bass of the music downstairs vibrated softly.
Matteo poured tequila into two glasses before sliding one toward me.
“You’re different,” he said, raising his glass before knocking back his shot.
I followed suit.
“Different good or different serial killer?”
He laughed harder than he should’ve at that.
“Your eyes,” he said finally.
I groaned dramatically. “Oh God, not the eyes speech.”
“No seriously.” His expression softened slightly. “You look like someone who’s survived things.”
The teasing smile on my face nearly slipped.
Nearly.
“And what exactly does that mean?”
“It means,” he said quietly, “you look strong. You’re sure of what you want, and I can see that in you in the way you carry yourself, and how you talk.”
Silence settled between us.
For a moment, I forgot about the knife hidden on the inside of my blazer, and the gun I’d stored in the couch cushion where Matteo sat.
I forgot about the assignment. Forgot about everything except the strange ache growing in my chest.
He waited patiently for an answer.
Instead, I stood up, making my way over to him. His eyes followed me with both curiosity and amusement.
I straddle his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck as his hands rest firmly on my hips. He sat there, taking me all in, searching my eyes for god knows what.
He was right, of course.
I had survived things; things I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Even now, as one hand played in his dirty blond hair distracting him from my other reaching for the gun, I was doing it all out of survival.
I couldn’t explain how Matteo made me feel, maybe it was just the words of a very attractive man, but it made me feel things I hadn’t felt for a long time.
He was genuine.
I placed a soft feather-like kiss on his lips as I pulled the gun from the cushion and pointed it at his head.
I leaned back, but to my surprise his expression remained amused, unbothered that my finger was just one trigger away from ending his life.
I slid off his lap, and he let me.
“I’m glad I came here tonight Emma.”
My heart dropped. I never told him my name, not even a fake one. My stomach turns at the idea that I’ve been made, but importantly at the fact that he’s been playing me this whole time and I never knew.
Shit!
I let out a long sigh, “seems I’ve been set up!”
Matteo only nods, reaching for the bottle of Clase Azul tequila and pouring himself another shot.
“3 second headstart?” I asked playfully, admitting that my only choice here was to flee.
Chances are it didn’t really matter where I ran, he probably had security stationed in every inch of this nightclub, not to mention outside.
“Sorry bellissima, I have orders of my own,” he smirked. “You’re coming with me.”
“And if I refuse?”
He shrugged his shoulders, “I was told dead or alive.”
Emphasis on the word dead.
We sat there in silence for what seemed like minutes, neither one of us moving.
“It’s my life...” I said turning the safety on my gun off. “And I wanna go out with a bang.”
I pulled the trigger, the shot exploding past Matteo who moved out the way just in time.
The bullet shattered the mirror behind him as he ran for cover, the rounds on my gun trailing him until he disappeared behind a wall.
“I like you Emma, I knew that I would,” he shouted from around the corner.
I ignored him, seeking refuge behind a pillar until I could figure out my next move.
“I saw determination in your eyes the second we met.” His expression darkened slightly. “I was just hoping it meant something else.”
I looked over my shoulder, peeking out from the pillar to see his gun pointed right at me.
Bullets tore chunks from the pillar, forcing me back into cover.
Back and forth bullets continued to rain down until neither one of us had any left.
I came out, tossing my empty gun to the side, and watched as he did the same.
We circled each other like hungry wolves, but I knew better than to attack first. He would get impatient and when he did I would be ready.
I didn’t know what was more irritating, the fact that he was smiling, that amused expression still planted on his face, or the fact that I knew deep down that I would be leaving this nightclub against my will, over his shoulder, or in a body bag.
Go big or go home I guess.
A low grumble made itself known and swiftly he jumped towards me; his fist traveling towards my face, but I dodged it just in time. He was fast, but not as fast as me.
I observed the man before me carefully, he was strong and if I wasn’t careful he’d knock me out in one blow. He obviously knew how to fight, he was calm and collected, slightly impatient.
We threw punches left and right, both of us slowly dwindling. His brows knitted together at my resilience. He thought I would just go down easily, and that was a big mistake. I took advantage of the space I’d created, reaching into my blazer to pull out the knife.
“Hey, no fair.” He teased me.
“I rarely ever play fair,” I admitted.
Mustering up the remnants of my energy, I used it to push past the ache in my body. Slashing the knife around, I could tell Matteo was nervous to avoid it.
He went on the defensive, narrowly avoiding cut after cut. With my left hand I raised it high knowing that he’d reach up to try and stop my momentum, and just as his hand made contact with my wrist, I dropped the knife, catching it with my right and thrusting it into his side.
He let out a sharp grunt, hurling over to compensate for the pain.
I didn’t hesitate, taking the opportunity to run towards the balcony and jump, landing onto a random car’s roof.
Any oxygen I had in my lungs flew out, and I struggled to catch my breath.
Matteo looked over the balcony rail, his face contorted in pain and also amazement at my willingness to jump.
Forcing myself to get up, I slid off the damaged car, sticking out my middle finger as I ran towards my car.
The engine roared to life before drifting out of the alley way.
Paranoia consumed me. Who set me up, and how much did they tell Matteo about me? Was my house safe to go back to? Was anywhere safe? Who exactly was Matteo?
I stared at the road ahead consumed in thought before something to my left caught my eye, and all I saw were headlights. FUCK!!
I felt my car skid across the street smashing against the pavement. Glass flew and my body was flung around violently before the car came to an abrupt stop.
My head spun, my ears were on fire, my vision blurred; I unbuckled the seatbelt falling onto the roof with a hard thud.
Someone approached me, the sound of glass crunched beneath their feet.
Strong hands wrapped around my wrists dragging me out of the vehicle, glass tore into my flesh as I screamed.
“Nice try, Princessa,” Matteo whispered breathlessly.
Then everything went dark.
