R E Y N A

He walked me to his bar. My cheeks heated up at the memories from last night. He saw more of me than any man had ever even bothered. Most men wouldn't spare me a single glance, only because I wasn't the most ideal of a woman. Why have me when they could have someone prettier?

When we entered the bar, I had expected Saint to grab a drink. His actions last night deemed me to question whether or not it was an everyday thing. It never graced the files that he had a substance abuse problem, but it didn't mean it was impossible. Based on the way his eyes lingered on the bottle of alcohol across the room, it was safe to assume that it definitely wasn't impossible.

Saint sat down in his seat. His eyes were studying me again. He was trying to find something out about me, I could tell. Maybe he was finding my appearance even more horrendous, or maybe he was trying to find the cracks in my surface so he could dive through and break me apart. If that was the case, he didn't have to look far. One glance and he would be able to see my disgusting features and my cracks that were practically ready to be pried at and broken.

"Get on your knees," he said. My brows rose as I tried my best to process his words. At first, I wasn't too sure that I heard him right, but his fiery eyes and narrowed gaze told me otherwise.

"W-What?" I questioned. He didn't say a word, he just continued to glare at me. "No."

"No?" He challenged. I bit down on my lip as I watched him prepare to stand. The last thing I wanted was for him to hurt me in the same way he hurt all those people in the countless reports. I wasn't ready to become just another person thrown in records with video footage of my death. So, I did what he asked. I lowered myself down onto the ground with shut eyes and a small whimper coating my sounds.

"Open your eyes," he ordered. Slowly, I peeled back my eyelids only to gaze into his blazing blue eyes. They held my stare with power. As much as I wanted to break away, I couldn't.

"Come here," he stated. I was going to stand up, but he quickly shook his head. "Crawl to me."

The smirk on his face was enough to make me shiver. I had never felt so powerless as I did with every inch that I got closer to him. Never in my life would I had guessed that I would succumb to the orders of a man like Saint. There was nothing I could do until I was right in front of him with my face mere inches from his most sacred area.

The fight in me was long gone. Fighting wouldn't make any difference. I would always end up doing whatever he asked of me as long as it kept me away from getting hurt. I had a goal of finding my mother that I had to achieve.

"Have you ever had a dick between your lips?" He asked. My body froze as my sights lifted to look into his eyes. I had to be able to tell if he was being serious or not. It couldn't have been possible that he would ask me something like that, but it was. He did ask me that. His words were beginning to lead the march of my fear.

"I-I don't- I don't know," I said quietly, beginning to pull away. He knotted the strands of my hair in his hand and held me in place. I instinctively grasped his thighs to hold myself steady, allowing my cheeks to heat up at the realization of how intimate of a position we were in.

"You're telling me that you don't know whether or not you've sucked dick before?" He asked, chuckling darkly. I hung my head low to look anywhere but at him. Embarrassment was shocking my body and I was quivering at the feeling.

It was sad that I was twenty years old and hadn't even come close to anything sex-related. Boys hated me. I wasn't pretty, but at least I was smart. For a while, I thought my intellect was enough, but I was wrong. Boys didn't want girls who were smart. Boys didn't care about girls who had wise words, but those who had a pretty smile. Boys wanted beauty and I would never come close to that.

"I haven't," I muttered.

His hand moved from my hair over to my cheek. I didn't say a word as his finger toyed with my lip. He was tracing the rim of my mouth as if he were trying to lock it into his memory. "I want to be your first."

"O-okay," I whispered. He dropped his hands from my face and stood up. My brows pulled together before I pushed myself away from him.

"Okay?" He asked.

I moved my mouth to say something—anything—but nothing would come out. My head tilted slightly as I looked at him behind narrowed eyes of confusion.

"Our code of silen—"

"Omertà," I cut off. It was something I learned about. The Italian mafia took the code very seriously. One person who took it more seriously than all was Saint. He respected the code so much. I was almost positive that it was engraved into his cold heart.

"Right. Omertà," he said, his words vague. It seemed as though he were pondering about something. "I don't particularly trust you. How can I trust a woman with my most valuable and sacred information, when you can't even tell me no? What happens when someone takes you and threatens to beat you until you tell them everything there is to know about me? Will you tell them?"

"I-I don't know," I whispered honestly.

He chuckled before moving off to the side, leaving me there on my hands and knees. I watched him stroll over to the bar, and I was thankful that he didn't grab a glass to make himself a drink.

"Get up," he ordered. I quickly shot up to my feet.

He was watching me again. His eyes were marking me as if I were his territory. The moment was bringing me a sense of deja vu. I could recall last night's dilemma. He was the first man who ever bothered to see me like that. The way he looked at me made me feel so powerful. Almost as if I were more than just brains, but I could be what boys wanted, I could be beautiful too.

"I want to know about you. Start with the day you were born then go on to tell me your hobbies and how you started getting into hacking," he said. I couldn't tell if he was actually being genuine. I doubted it. Saint wasn't known for generosity. Everything he did always managed to work out for him in the end.

"Why?" I asked.

"Want me to be honest?" He smirked. Slowly, I nodded my head, watching as he began to walk towards me. "Because you are a very insecure woman, Angel. I can manipulate you just as fast as I can look at you. No one is like that in this world. Purely out of curiosity, I want to know why you are like that."

"I-I'm not insecure. Y-You scare me," I tried to defend myself.

He simply hummed. "Well, you are going to meet a lot of scary people. I'm only the beginning."

I waited a few minutes, watching as Saint watched me. He was waiting for me to just spill every detail of my life, and I was almost prepared to do it. He was right. I was insecure. My insecurities reached so deep and gut me with every word I spoke. I wasn't always so shy and timid, but something broke me. My mother broke me.

I took a deep breath, and let my eyes fall to gleam at the ground. "I a-auditioned—"

"Without stuttering," he said.

Letting out a sigh, I did my best to slow down my words. I've always had a stuttering problem, especially under situations that made me nervous. With the help of many speech therapy lessons, I learned how to control my words more efficiently. It wasn't until Saint forced himself into my life that my stuttering problems had returned.

"I auditioned, um, when I was nine for a school violin recital, and I, um, got it. On the night of my recital, I noticed my mother wasn't present. It would be the first recital that she ever missed, but that didn't make sense to me. She always made sure she was there no matter what. So, I went out there to perform, but I couldn't finish the song without her. I never could. On that same day, police told me she disappeared. They still claim that she is just another woman who ran away from their responsibilities, but my mom isn't like that. She loves me, and she would never leave unless forced to," I explained, shutting my eyes to stop the tears that threatened to come out.

I didn't bother to look at Saint. I know he didn't care, but sometimes it felt good to let it out. Every single day, all I had was my computer screen. For the past few years, there was no communication with the outside world. It was only me and the house that my mother left me. It felt comforting to finally speak with my heart again.

Playing with the hem of my shirt, I let my shoulders fall. "My uncle took care of me after that. He was the one who taught me everything I know. I put down the violin and focused on finding my mother. I learned how to hack, I learned about the dark web, and I learned how to find the people responsible for the taking of my mother. At first, I never took it too seriously because my uncle was the one who truly worked to find her. It wasn't until he passed away two years ago that I took over and formed a new identity, Red. Now, here I am."

He hummed in response, causing my gaze to lift into his intense eyes. I was stupidly expecting some reaction out of him, but I received nothing. He was blank—numb even. It was a skill I wished to develop.

"I want to show you something," he said. My brows pulled together as he walked off. I didn't know if I was supposed to follow him or stay put, but I ended up staying.

Moments later, he returned with a file.

"I knew everything you just told me. Just like you have my records, I have yours. You see, angel, I was testing you. Omertà. No one needs to know about you except you, do you understand me?" He furiously asked.

"I-I'm sorr—"

"You see why I can't trust you? You are weak, insecure, and submissive to manipulation," he snarled out.

I narrowed my eyes at him. A fire began to sprout deep within my soul. It was burning the part of me that wanted to give up, but it was igniting the part that worked too hard to let some man like Saint tell me I'm not good enough. "You want to talk about weaknesses and insecurities? How about we talk about you, Santino Venturi? You killed your family. You began with your mother, then your sister, and then your father. You call me weak, but what does that make you?"

The small amount of anger that had resided in me had quickly vanished at the sight of his clenched fists. I began to back away from him as fast as I could, but I wasn't fast enough. He snatched me in his hold by my neck and dragged me towards him like a rag doll.

"Angel, that makes me your devil."