The Don meets the Assassin

Hila

“Thank you for saving my family,” said the Boss in his rasping baritone, leaning back in his chair, the narrow-eyed, hooded gaze never leaving her face.

Hila met the steely gaze and tried not to flinch. The man carried an undeniable arrogance, a sense of power. Added to that, was the sexual aura about him, like a cloak that made women want to throw themselves at him, to be used by him, for she doubted that he knew what it meant to be tender, to be loving.

No, this was a man who took women to bed to satisfy his urges, who would know how to be cruel, to punish. She wondered fleetingly what the equation between Pier’s mother and this massive, brooding man was like.

Surely, despite having such a large brood of kids, he was not a man who knew how to love?, she thought as she studied the brutish-looking man before her.

He was dressed impeccably, in a pale grey suit with the white shirt open to his waist, revealing a muscled, hirsute chest. But it could not detract from his underlying a