Twenty Seven.

"Hey, Akira."

I stand at her desk after she buzzes me in. Today, she is wearing a maroon dress that ends just above her knees and hugs her figure, highlighting her womanly curves.

"Good morning, C.C." Her cheeks are slightly flushed with a faint smile. "You're looking very professional today?" She arches a brow as her gaze sweeps over me.

I tuck my loose curls behind my ears and stare down at myself. "A pair of black dress slacks and a white blouse is hardly professional." I chuckle. "It is more a case of playing it safe." I groan, wishing I possessed the confidence to dress up like the majority of the girls around here.

"Is he in?" I enquire sceptically, hoping that I am not too late.

"Nope, he is upstairs this morning, I believe."

"Thank the Gods," I reply. "I'll catch up with you later."

"I'll be here." She hums as the sound of her tapping away on her keyboard follows me down the corridor.

I take a seat behind my desk and retrieve a photograph of Sandro. I place the little frame on my desk, kissing my fingertips as I place it over his fat face.

I miss him.

It feels wrong to awaken without hearing his voice, smelling his baby scent, or gazing into his beautiful eyes as he wriggled about in my arms.

"Woman, pull yourself together." I fan my face with my hands, trying to dry the tears that threaten to fall in case Aydem shows up.

I boot up my computer, opening the blinds that connect our offices and the phone rings.

I quickly rush back to my desk and pick up the phone. "Hel-"

"Meet me downstairs in two minutes." He says, cutting me off.

"Su-" beep, beep, beep.

I hold the phone away from my ear and stare at it. He hung up even before I could get a word out.

Rude!

I slam the phone back down on the receiver and retrieve my bag, quickly exiting the office.

"On your way out already?" Akira asks with her brows raised.

"I was summoned by our royal highness," I mutter as I approach her desk. "Please tell me that he has a far better phone manner than the one I've just encountered?" I cast her a pleading look.

She just stares at me with a smirk on her face. "Better get used to it, dollface." She buzzes me through and I walk through the doors groaning.

I exit the elevator car and rapidly make my way to the security desk, skirting the mayhem of foot traffic and weaving in and out of crowds.

The sound of my phone ringing fills the lobby and I quickly rummage through my bag, retrieving my phone and answering the call.

"Hello?"

"Conosco la tua missione. Se rovini tutto, ti scopo e poi ti sparo!" (I know your mission. If you screw it up, I'll fuck you then I'll shoot you!)

"Trent?" I exhale fearfully.

"Castello can't protect you forever, Mila. He may have saved you last night. But remember this, I am the king of the Esposito empire and I do what I fucking please with whom I fucking please."

My throat tightens and my steps falter when I feel a warm hand gently resting on the small of my back. I drop my phone, collapsing to my knees and picking it up with quivering hands while wiping the corners of my eyes.

I raise my eyes to meet Aydem's. He returns my gaze, his eyes narrowing into thin slits as his eyes sweep me over before picking me up in bridal style.

Did he sense the fear that engulfs me like a moth to a flame?

He clutches me to his chest the entire time, and his steps remain steady. I look around and notice that people are slowing down to observe us, and I instantly feel quite uneasy.

"I'm sorry. I'm fine to walk if you'll put me down." I say quietly as I feel my face turning cherry red.

He says nothing and does not attempt to glance down at me. He continues to stride through the lobby with the confidence of a man who possesses an excessive amount of dominance. A distinct dominant demeanour from Trent's and Castellos'.

When we step outside a black SUV pulls up along the curb. The driver gets out and he opens the front passenger door. Aydem puts me down and when he is satisfied that I have my footing he steps back.

I quickly get into the car without casting a glance in his direction. I'm slightly afraid of what I may discover if in his magnificent eyes if I do.

The driver closes my door, opens Aydems and patiently waits for him to settle in before he closes the door and gets behind the driver's seat. Seconds later he pulls away from the curb, merging with the early morning's traffic.

I gaze out the window, taking in the passing scenery while the car is filled with an awkward silence.

My mind wanders and I can't help the memories of Trent's torment flashing before my eyes. A cold chill spreads across my body like a plague and I quickly regret not slipping the snake venom in his drink when I had ample amounts of opportunities.

I can feel Aydems eyes piercing the back of my head, and a part of me wants to turn around and glare back at him.

I want to yell and scream.

I want to beg him to help me. To help me escape the mafia life that I was thrust into.

But then I remember.

No matter where I go or try to hide they will find me. Ace, Trent and Castello will hunt me down just to take my life.

I try to divert my attention away from my worries. I rapidly consider my little Sandro and what might happen to him if I forget to follow protocol and complete this mission.

The words I wish to scream, fall from my lips at a breakneck pace.

The car draws to a standstill in front of a row of rustic establishments. I go to open my door and the driver discreetly places his hand on my shoulder and I look back at him.

He gently shakes his head, instructing me that I should remain in the car. I nod in response; he exits the vehicle, opens Aydem's door, hands him a brown folder which I can only assume contains the shoe's true design, and then he closes the door.

"My name is Gerald." The driver introduces himself to me with a soft smile on his face as he gets back behind the wheel.

"My name is Clara but people usually call me C.C."

"It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise." A ghostly smile touches my mouth as I try to mask the worry that clouds my eyes.

"Where has Mr Burak gone?"

"This is the location of his shoe manufacturing. He has been coming here for years since the man who works inside that building inspired him to pursue a career as a shoe designer for women's heels." He starts to explain. "I bring him here multiple times a week. But, I must admit. This is the first time I've had company as I wait."

"He's never brought one of P.A's along with him?" I ask with astonishment.

"Not one and he's been through a lot."

"I am torn between being charmed and concerned that he does not trust me to be left alone as he leaves his corporate building," I say with amusement.

"I'd say the former Miss C.C."

"Let me guess, he doesn't make it a habit of carrying his P.A's as well now does he?"

Butterflies begin to form in the pit of my stomach at the prospect of Aydem not touching his female employees physically.

Or,

someone of his status being interested in someone like myself.

"Certainly not, Miss C.C. Indeed, I am amazed he ever touched you too. He is rather closed off when it comes to his employees, and he is adamantly opposed to mixing pleasure and business."

"Good," I mumble. "I'm glad we have something in common." And with that, the butterflies forming in my stomach vanished.