Chapter 04~ Find The Girl!

MATEO

The headache was unbearable. My temples throbbed, and every sound on this blasted yacht felt like nails being hammered into my skull. It was all because of insomnia—I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in weeks.

To make it worse, every time I closed my eyes, I saw her. The stripper who’d drugged me and stolen my cross necklace, along with... other things, my used condom.

My father's “legacy” has shown me how dangerous the bastards can be,  so I have always been very careful not to leave any chance.  But what I didn't expect was that she stole that.

I couldn’t stand the humiliation. Me, Mateo De Lucaa, the head of the Sicilian mafia, was fooled like a common man? Every time I thought about it, I couldn't help but feel anger boiling inside me.

The worst part? That stolen cross—the most precious thing to me, the same I hadn’t seen in months—could’ve been used for something else. 

That cross has been passed down in my family for hundreds of years. The secret about it has caused countless bloodshed and it must never fall into the wrong hands.

My fists clenched as I shoved those thoughts away, forcing myself to focus. My men had just finished their report. The clinic where this all began? Empty. Abandoned. Whoever had done this was careful, too careful to be seen. Even at that, I wasn't one to let stuff like this slide under my watch.

No one plays games with me and gets away with it. I would find them. And when I did, they would pay for making me look like a fool.

After the meeting, I dismissed everyone and leaned back in my chair, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Another drink,” I muttered to one of the servers stationed nearby. Whiskey—it was the only thing that could calm the storm in my head.  

Then I heard light footsteps coming toward my room. They were too soft to belong to any of my men.

Without hesitation, I reached under my pillow and pulled out my gun. I clicked it to load the bullet, ready to shoot if needed. I didn’t survive this long by trusting anyone too easily.

“Didn’t I say no interruptions?” I barked without looking up.  

“I’m sorry, sir,” came a timid reply. A woman’s voice.  

I looked up, expecting one of the staff. Instead, I saw her—a delivery girl, of all things, standing awkwardly with a pharmacy bag in her hands. She was young, dressed in a cheap uniform that barely fit her small frame. For a moment, I wondered if she had the wrong room. 

“Who sent you?” I asked in a cold voice. 

Her eyes darted around nervously, avoiding mine. “I’m just the delivery girl. I was told to bring your medicine.” she stammered.  

I stood up from the bed, walking towards her with the gun in my hand. I wasn't cheap to be fooled, and if there was anything, I wasn't going to trust her innocent face.

I watched as she staggered backwards, like I was some kind of monster to her. I noticed how her gaze repeatedly moved from my face to the gun in my hand almost in a split second. 

"I don't remember ordering medicines. As you can see, I am perfectly fine." 

Her back hit against the wall, and she realised there was no way to escape. She clutched the bag tightly to her chest like her life depended on it. “I—I don’t know,” she stammered. “It’s from the pharmacy. A man told me to deliver it here.” 

I pointed the gun at her face. "I don't take chances with liars like you. Are you going to speak the truth, or should I just go ahead pulling the trigger right through your skull?!"

For a moment, she couldn't find the words to say. Her face had obviously turned red, so were her eyes. "Please... I didn't mean to..."

I walked closer, leaning my face inches to hers. "You don't mean to what?"

She pressed herself against the wall. At this point, she wasn't even looking at me, her eyes and focus was on the gun. 

"Are you my gift?" 

She shook her head even before I finished my statement. "You're mistaken, sir. I am not your gift."

If anything, I could hear the loud sound of her heart beating against her chest. I grabbed her chin, raising her face to look at me. She was shaking, and her breath quickened. 

"I'll ask you one last time, who sent you?" 

"I'm… just a delivery… girl." I watched as tears rolled down her cheeks, pleading for me to let her go. 

I couldn't get myself to even if I wanted to. I had lots of enemies, and it would be careless of me to trust anyone. Especially not her.

When I saw she wasn't going to speak the truth, I slammed my fist against the wall, causing her to flinch. Then I grabbed her hand, gripping it so tight that she bit her lips from crying out loud. "Do you know who I am?"

She refused to speak.

"I ask a damn question and I expect you to give me a damn answer, understood!" I yelled.

"Do you know who I am?" I growled, obviously pissed off.

She shook her head. "N...no."

"Then you should know I don't deal easily with liars." 

"I...I'm telling the truth, I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just a delivery girl." She cried. "I'll just drop it and go. I promise, I won't return again."

I studied her closely, she looked too terrified to be lying, but appearances could be deceiving. I let go of her, taking steps away from her. "What's your name?" I asked.

"I... My name is Clara." She answered with a shaky voice. Her eyes darted to the gun in my hand before quickly looking away.

Clara. The name felt foreign on my tongue.

"Clara, give me one reason why I should trust you?" I asked. "I mean, you're no different from the others, are you?"

All she did was shake her head. 

"So tell me why I shouldn't kill you right here, right now." I said, clicking on my gun as if getting ready to kill. And I was ready to kill if she didn't speak the truth.

I pointed the gun at her again. The fear that gripped her was so obvious that I could see it boldly on her face. "Pl... Please, don't kill me." She pleaded. "Please, I don't wanna die."

 I chuckled, taking the gun off her face. 

"Drop the back on the table and leave." I said, gesturing to the table at the corner before turning my back against her.

"I'll just drop it here and leave." 

I hated it when my orders were compromised. Refusing to do as instructed sprung another level of anger in me that made me almost want to knock that innocent look off her innocent face.

I turned to look at her, taking steps closer. "I see, you're one stubborn little thing, aren't you?"

There was something about her—something I couldn't quite explain. I leaned closer, and she pressed further against the wall like she wanted to sink herself into it. The tears in her eyes had already found their way down her cheeks and for some reason I wish I knew, I found myself growing weak. I couldn't make any step closer. Not because I didn't want to, but because I couldn't get myself to.

Her eyes darted around the room, like she was searching for something. More like she was looking for an escape, but there was none.  

“I see you’re here to distract me,” I said, “And you're not gonna tell me who sent you?”  

“I told you, I’m just delivering medicine!” she shouted. That was the only way she could sound brave.

The pain in my head seems to increase a bit. I winced, rubbing a hand on my forehead. Before I could realize what was going on, I felt a sharp pain in my head. Clara’s eyes widened as I stumbled backward, collapsing onto the bed with a groan.

For a second, I felt like I was dead. The pain, plus that I was already feeling was just too much to bear.

“Oh no, oh no,” she muttered, dropping the ashtray. "Please don't die. Hello? Are you...alive?"

As she reached out to touch my face, I grabbed her arms into mine. 

My eyes fluttered open, and I looked at her. But instead of feeling angry, I felt something else—something softer. I sniffed the air, then her hand, suddenly I felt my body instantly relax.

“Stay,” I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.  

When I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the silence. No pounding headache. No tightness in my chest. I hadn’t felt this calm in weeks.  

I sat up, glancing at the clock on the wall. Ten hours. I’d been asleep for ten hours straight. I couldn’t remember the last time that had happened.  

Then, it all came rushing back—the delivery girl. Clara. The ashtray. The faint scent of her filled the air, mixed with fear and something warm. Something comforting. However, it was just enough to make my headache feel like a distant memory.  

I stood and noticed a small pile of clothes in the corner. They were hers, left behind when she’d fled. I picked up the shirt and held it to my nose. That same warm, calming scent filled my lungs.  

For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the shirt in my hands. How could a complete stranger have this effect on me?  

I shook off the thought and called for my men.  

“Does anyone know who the girl was?” I demanded when they gathered.  

The room was silent until one of them hesitantly spoke. “She... uh, she looked familiar.”  

“Familiar how?” I snapped, already growing impatient to hear what he had to say.

“She might be from the church choir,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve seen her a few times before.”  

The church choir? That didn’t fit the picture I had of her, but then again, what did I really know about her? 

“I heard Romero’s got his eyes on her.” Another added. 

“No. He can’t.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I didn’t even understand why my first reaction was to stop him.  

But we all knew Romero. What he did to innocent girls. What was left of them when he was done. 

"Why does he want her?" I demanded.

"From what I heard, her uncle’s got debts, and she’s the only thing of value they’ve got." He answered.

At this point, I knew I didn’t just need to find her—I had to. Before Romero or anyone else got to her first.

I turned to the rest of the room. “I want every lead you can get. Where she lives, where she works, everything. And I want it now!”

“Find her,” I ordered.