SIX SF Tower

My eyes were literally shut the whole drive. The f*ck this sh*t would want me to die a horrible death. He almost crashed every car on the highway, didn't even care about the honks and curses of cars and drivers around us. Thankfully, there were no authorities following us.

The moment he suddenly stepped on the brakes, I let out my loudest roar at him that day. "Fottuto stronzo! Sei pazzo? (You f*cking assh*le! Are you crazy?) What do you think you're doing?" I hit his shoulder, and whatever part of his body landed my fists, but my upset look turned pale when he grabbed my hands and yelled back at me.

"Basta! (Enough!)" I held my breath out of fear. "You do f*cking know well how to piss me off, Dakota Weasly. You've done this a lot before, yet I can see you never learned your lesson!" his words were sharp, I gasped in horror and cringed to my seat. Tears began to leak at the corners of my eyes.

Martin was the leader of one of the scariest and biggest mafia groups in Italy. He was tagged as the Scarred-face Man. Anyone who would hear his alias would gasp in fear and hide. Although he was like the grim reaper, he also had a soft heart, and only a few knew about that. I learned a lot of stuff from him, and I would stick them into my stubborn insensitive head from now on.

The scariest thing I learned from this jerk was if he called me with my whole name, it only meant one thing... I'VE CROSSED THE LINE!

...and I had to run, hide, or disappear NOW!

I was still quivering in fear when he let go of my hands and opened the door. He took one scowl at me before getting off the car and slamming it hard, I jumped on my seat due to its impact. I didn't even notice him opening the passenger seat when he roared again.

"Get off!"

"Huh?!" believe me, that time, he was a different person. "What do you want from me?" I asked shaking as I slowly got off. His orbs were fixed on my teary eyes. I couldn't find any emotion there except for hatred.

He took my hand and dragged me to this bluish 65th-story tower, the logo I recognized. SF written in english iii vivace font, too feminine I should say. However, what baffled me was why we were here.

Salvatore Florence was one of the luxurious brands of clothing style in New York, and the owner was no other than Florence Salvatore, a half-Italian business socialite. It had always been my dream to work here, but I always chickened out every time I would like to showcase my creations.

"Martin, why are we here?" I asked the man busy dragging me to the entrance. The guards were shocked at the scene in front of them, but when they recognized him, they bowed and made their way at once. Why would they do that?

I asked him once again why we're here, yet I received the same response... Silence!

Until three receptionists dressed in black and white greeted us, "Good day, Mr. Maricini!" They were very formal. Their smiles plastered a year of training. Their poise was honed well. Martin, on the other hand, just lifted his chin and walked past them with me following him like a kitten. D*mn, was that the reason why he called me kitty? Like a pet?!

"Marti~"

"We're going to my penthouse. Satisfied?!" he cut me off with an aggressive reply, which confused me more.

"Penthouse?! Do you have a penthouse?" he's a mafia, of course, he had. What were you thinking, Dakota? I scolded myself.

He just gave me a boring look as he pressed the elevator, the whole lift could occupy a total of ten people plus a bed inside. Obviously, this was a private one. My mouth hung open when he pressed 65, we're going to the top floor. "Answer me clearly, Mr. Marcini. Why are we here? This isn't yours, right?"

"Oh, it's mine, kitty!" what? "And you're gonna stay here for a while, till I settle that boy toy of yours!" he smirked.

WHAT?! If you had seen a ghost before, that's exactly my expression at the moment.

My mouth formed an o shape upon seeing the inside of his penthouse. This screamed LUXURY! The entrance room, covered in light dark wallpaper with minimal decorations, only a painting of a young woman and a bronze statuette of Saint Sebastian. The striking pose of the tormented but beautiful nude youth, who was leaning against a truncated tree and bending his left arm back behind his head, made my brows furrow.

Furthermore, while my eyes continued the tour and didn't even notice that he disappeared, I could scream an 'oh my goodness' for the magnificent glass wall in the living room. The whole of Manhattan was the view of the penthouse. Wide Italian couches with a touch of a million dollar price each adorned the area.

I had dated this ass, but he never showed me this penthouse. I had been in this building when I was a fresh graduate, but I just stayed on the 40th floor, where applicants for an internship were lined up.

What kind of influential foothold Martin had to the famous Florence Salvatore? Oh no! Not my wild and disgusting imagination!

I suddenly lost my interest to continue touring this luxurious place. I knew there was still the kitchen, the dining room, and never forget, the infinity pool that was once featured on a socialite magazine with Madam Florence on the view. She was an epitome of grace and modesty, a very beautiful and talented woman.

But now, I was beginning to abhor her. I moved my shaky legs around the house, looking for that bastard. My fists were ready to punch his annoying arrogant face. Till I saw a slight open door, I didn't hesitate to get in, only to find out a huge room... a man's bedroom, to be exact. I was about to leave when I heard the sound of water, somebody was taking a shower.

That somebody was the one I was looking for. Out of rage for what he did to me today and the ugly notion that was running in my head, I marched like I was at war prepared to murder someone...HIM!

"Martin, you sick bastard! Did you have s*x with Madam Salvatore?!" I slammed the unlocked door, and it swung open to reveal a naked Greek god in a flesh. The only difference was that Greek god wasn't appealing now, for his furious gaze was shifted to me.

Run Kota! Run!