SARAHI was still trying to wrap my head around what Marco had just done. He had walked into the manager’s office and walked out with a smile, declaring he’d bought the café. Part of me was skeptical, wondering if this sudden kindness would come with some sort of backlash when we got home. Was this just another way to control me, to keep me under his thumb? Or was it possible that he genuinely wanted to make things better?As I sat there, more relaxed now, I started to appreciate the beauty of the café. The warm lighting, the cozy seating, and the soft hum of conversation created an inviting atmosphere. I looked around, my eyes landing on a couple playing with their little daughter at a nearby table. They seemed so happy, their laughter light and carefree.“Daddy, catch me!” the little girl squealed as she darted around the table, her tiny feet padding softly on the floor.Her father chuckled, pretending to reach for her but missing on purpose. “Oh no, she’s too fast for me!” he excla
SARAHI couldn’t stop thinking about what had just happened. Marco had actually shown care, and it was throwing me off. My mind kept replaying the moment our hands touched. It was weirdly intimate, and it made me shy to look up at him.I poked at my meal, trying to focus on the food. Marco broke the silence, his voice warm. “So, do you love the meal?”I looked up quickly, trying to clear my head. “Yeah, it’s really good. Thanks for picking it out.”He smiled and leaned back, looking more relaxed. “You know, this place used to be one of my favorites. My grandma used to bring me here all the time when I was a kid.”I blinked, surprised. “Really? I didn’t know you had such good memories of this place.”“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “She always said their risotto was the best. We’d come here for special occasions, and she’d make a big deal about the food. I loved it.”He laughed softly, a nostalgic look in his eyes. “She was really into food. We’d have these long dinners where she’d tell stor
SARAHThe waitress came back, carrying a bottle of vintage port and two glasses. She set them down with a polite smile and asked, “Shall I pour for you?”Marco shook his head. “No, we’ve got this. Thank you, though.”The waitress gave a slight nod. “Very well. If you need anything else, just let me know.”Marco turned his attention back to me with a playful glint in his eyes. “You ready for this?”I nodded, feeling a mix of nerves and resolve. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”He chuckled, picking up the bottle. “Alright then. Here goes.”As he began to pour the wine, I glanced at the waitress, who was still hovering nearby. She seemed curious about our exchange, her eyes darting between us.“Looks like you’ve got an audience,” I said to Marco, tilting my head towards the waitress.Marco looked over and grinned. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”The waitress smiled again, a bit more genuinely this time. “Enjoy your evening,” she said, finally turning to leave.Marco poured the rich, dark wine into
SARAHI woke up with a pounding headache, the kind that felt like someone was hammering inside my skull. Groaning, I opened my eyes and blinked against the bright light filtering through the curtains. It took a moment for my vision to clear, and when it did, I realized I was in my room. But how did I get here?Panic bubbled up as I tried to piece together the fragments of last night. I sat up slowly, my head throbbing with every movement. I looked around, searching for any clues that might explain how I ended up here.The last thing I remembered was being at the café with Marco, the bet, and the wine. But everything after that was a blur. I couldn’t recall how I got from the café to my bed.“Marco?” I called out, my voice hoarse. There was no response. “Marco?”I waited, but the silence was deafening. Yelling made my headache worse, so I decided to calm down and think. I took a deep breath and tried to focus.That’s when I noticed my clothes. I was wearing something different from wha
MARCOI sat in my study, the morning light filtering through the large windows, casting shadows across the room. The newspaper lay on my desk, and I picked it up, skimming through the headlines. It was the usual mix of political drama, business failures, and celebrity scandals. Nothing particularly interesting, nothing that couldn’t be solved with a few well-placed threats or a strategic buyout.“Idiots,” I muttered, shaking my head at the ineptitude of the so-called leaders in this city. They always managed to screw things up, no matter how easy the solution seemed. Setting the paper down, I leaned back in my chair, letting out a breath. The world outside might be chaotic, but in here, I controlled everything. Or at least, I liked to think I did.But then my thoughts drifted, and I found myself thinking about Sarah again. More specifically, about that bastard Cain, the one who had dared to lay a hand on her at Lemuel’s party. The thought of it made my blood boil. I could still see th
MARCOI narrowed my eyes, taking a step closer to Cain. His words replayed in my mind, over and over, like a broken record. Marcel. I couldn’t afford to take this lightly.“Where did you hear that name?” I demanded, my voice low and dangerous. I needed to know if this scum had any real connection to Marcel or if he was just trying to save his own skin.Cain’s eyes darted around the room, wild with desperation. “Everyone in the dark side of society knows the name Marcel,” he stammered, his voice trembling. “But I… I can lead you to him. Just… please, spare my life.”For a moment, I said nothing, weighing his words carefully. Then I signaled to Tony to put his gun away. The room was silent, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. I turned to Tony and Carlos, searching their faces for any sign of what they thought.“What do you think?” I asked, keeping my voice steady. “Is he bluffing?”Carlos didn’t hesitate. “He could be faking it, boss. Trying to buy himself time. For all we kno
SARAHMartha had already started trimming the hedges when I joined her in the garden. The sun was warm, not too harsh, and a light breeze made the leaves dance gently around us. I watched her for a moment, admiring the precision of her work. But there was something about just sitting around doing nothing that drove me insane, especially lately. I needed to keep my hands busy, to feel like I was contributing something, anything, to this place.“Martha,” I called out, walking over to her. “Let me help you with that.”She looked up, startled, and immediately shook her head. “Oh no, Miss Sarah. Please, you shouldn’t trouble yourself with this. It’s my job. I can handle it.”I smiled, trying to reassure her. “I know it’s your job, but I’m bored out of my mind. I need something to do, and helping you here seems like a good way to pass the time.”Martha’s eyes widened in alarm, and she stepped in front of the hedge clippers as if to guard them from me. “No, Miss Sarah. I couldn’t possibly al
MARCOI sat in my office, spinning a pocket knife between my fingers, the faint glint of the blade catching the dim light. The motion helped me think, a small distraction from the conversation we were about to have. Tony, Carlos, and Luis stood before me, waiting for my signal to start. “Alright, Tony, what have you got?” I asked, not taking my eyes off the blade.Tony cleared his throat, stepping forward slightly. “According to Cain, this Marcel guy works as a mercenary for various families. That’s about all he knows. Why Marcel’s interested in us or what he’s doing in New York? No clue. Cain wasn’t much help beyond that.”I stopped the blade mid-spin, gripping the handle firmly as I looked up. “So, we’re dealing with a ghost, huh? No clear motives, just someone lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.”Carlos chimed in, trying to downplay the situation. “Look, Marco, we don’t have to get worked up over this. We pop in, take the small fry out, and go about our