POV

You're sitting up late at night, scrolling online as you wait for a message from one of your contacts...

You're the daughter of the Mafia king, and a high-level operative for him. Unfortunately that means you've come into contact fairly frequently with one of the hottest guys you've ever seen, but the problem is that he's your father's enemy despite his youth.

Suddenly, you heard a banging on your door, and your head snapped up, eyes narrowing warily. You pulled out your earbuds and laid them down, slowly shifting your weight to your toes and creeping to the door, your hand drifting to the holster on your hip. You racked the slide, always the first step; the round chambered with a very satisfying ring. You smiled faintly. That sound always shot straight to your brain, making you sigh softly in satisfaction. You stopped when your shoulder touched the door, and took a deep breath, steadying your body the way you were trained. You looked out the peephole on your front door, and your eyes widened. You immediately brought your pistol up in both hands, your trigger finger along the side -- just the way you were trained.

You looked out the peephole again, and saw... him.

What the heck was he doing here, soaked in blood? 'Not exactly an unusual way for him to appear,' you thought suddenly to yourself, with a slight head bob and a shrug...

He banged on the door again, and you felt the door tremble against your shoulder. You heard his voice, a low, raspy whisper on the other side. "Alessandra..."

You swore softly. 'Of course he knows,' you thought. You bit your lip in thought, your eyes narrowing. Then you stood up and kept your gun pointed at the ceiling, ready in your dominant hand, as you reached out and opened the door.

He really was a sight, his entire shirt front crimson with blood. A cut up in his hairline caked his dark curls to his forehead, trickling down over one of his dark green eyes before drying on his cheek. That was... also standard for Antonio Abate. But there was something else...

You lowered your pistol and pointed it warningly at his chest. "I swear, Antonio, I will kill you if this is another--"

"They're all dead, Alessandra," he interrupted, leaning heavily against the doorframe. His hand was pressed to his side. "All of them."

"Wh--?"

"All the operatives. Your father's, mine... There's a third party." He shoved his way into the room, stumbling slightly. His face was already pale, but now as he coughed blood, you noticed that it was getting paler. Your eyes dropped to his side, and it was then you realized that blood was trickling over his hand faster than it should be.

"Oh my -- Antonio, what the hell?" Not releasing your pistol, you impulsively caught him as he fell forward.

He swore in pain. "I had to warn you. We're all targets. Both of our families. Targets."

You shoved the thought out of your mind for the moment. You had to focus on keeping him alive, so he could tell you more. "Sit down, Antonio."

He obeyed, surprisingly. You thought it was just that he was too weak to withstand even a slight girl as yourself, when you were the one holding the gun. You reluctantly holstered the weapon, keeping it loose and ready in its holster, as you turned to go get your first-aid kit.

When you returned to the living room, you had a brief jolt in your stomach as you finally realized your father's worst enemy was sitting in your living room, vulnerable, weak... and now shirtless. You quelled a mental groan as you walked over and knelt beside him, opening the canvas bag. 'But...' you had to admit to yourself, 'He really is really hot...' You stopped yourself from letting your eyes drift over his amazing physique, the toned abs and perfectly tanned skin... well, perfect where it wasn't covered in blood.

"Let me see," you commanded drily.

He smirked. He did that a lot, too. "What, like this isn't enough for you, princess?" You swore to yourself. He'd noticed your gaze on him.

"Shut up, you know what I mean -- " He only chuckled. Even that was attractive. 'Shut up, Alle,' you told yourself. Your voice sharpened as you spoke next. "Listen, do you want to live or not? because if not, I can shoot you right here." You looked straight into his eyes, your own calm and collected as you threatened him.

His smirk only widened. "Alright, alright..." He removed his hand from his ribs, and you were strangely relieved to find it was only a flesh wound. You quickly checked to see if there was an exit wound as well, and breathed a sigh of relief when your exploring fingers found a raw, bloody clump on his back. You didn't want to dig around with a scalpel in this man's side for a bullet. He might still be able to snap your neck if you hurt him unexpectedly. "Well... it's not bad... you'll live, at any rate, but only if I stop the bleeding." You smiled faintly to yourself as you turned to your bag and rummaged in a side pocket. "Fortunately for your sorry ass," you continued, pouring a little clotting powder into your palm, "this stuff is a miracle worker..."

His eyes didn't leave your face as you placed your powder-filled palm on his back, just over the exit wound. You flattened your hand against his skin, surprised by how warm he was. He flinched slightly, your fingers cold to him. "Alessandra..."

"What?"

"Why are you helping?"

You saw that he'd had the same realization you'd had before. "You mean, why don't I kill you, now, when you're weak?" He nodded, wordlessly, as you poured another pile of the powder into your palm and pressed it to the entry wound on his ribs, just under his elbow. "Easy," you said with a smirk. "Daddy wants you alive, so he can kill you himself."

"You could have taken me out so easily already..." You glowered silently out the corner of your eye at him as you pulled out a roll of gauze. "I'm just asking..."

You sighed and sat back on your heels, looking at him full in the face for the first time. "I can't make sure you survive for him if you're unconscious on my floor, Antonio Abate." You smiled slowly then. "Besides... why put you out of your pain? Why not let you suffer?" Your eyes fixed on his, and he smiled slowly. He chuckled wryly, before coughing a little. A slight mist of blood drifted onto your arm, and you scowled in annoyance. You pointed in the opposite direction. "Cough that way, Antonio."

He nodded. "Sorry, princess...."

It wasn't the 'princess' that shocked you. It was the apology.

You wrapped his midsection in bandages, getting uncomfortably close to his chest and abs every time you had to reach around behind him. But he was courteous enough to help you out a little by lifting his arms so you could reach a little easier.

You flicked your eyes up to his face briefly. "Thanks..."

He smiled softly. Another shock. This time, a little more visceral, the thrill of it setting your cheeks tingling a little. "Anytime, princess..."

You rolled your eyes and wrapped the last piece of gauze around him. "We're still enemies --"

"Correction, sweetheart, your father and I are enemies..." He chuckled faintly as you stepped away. He got to his feet slowly, eyeing your work critically. "Thanks, Alessandra."

You shook your head, quickly looking away. "Didn't do it for you."

"That true?" He ducked his head to catch your eye. You were annoyed when it worked.

"I -- " You stopped. You... somehow... couldn't bring yourself to say it.

"I asked," he said, stepping closer, "Is that true?"

"Yes," you snapped, shoving him out of the way as you went to go wash your hands. You'd always wanted his blood, but not like this...

He stood still, staring at the floor, before slowly smirking and turning back around to watch you as you scraped his dried blood off your hands. He walked around the island towards you, his shoes softly tapping on the wood floor. He stopped behind you. "Alessandra..."

You growled to yourself, mostly because you were annoyed by how much you liked hearing him say your name that softly. "Shut up, Antonio --"

He gripped your shoulder and turned you around, stepping closer. "You're a bad liar, Alessandra..."

You stared at him, non-plussed, before wordlessly trying to pull away again. He didn't let you.

"I want the truth, sweetheart."

"I gave it to you," you hissed, fighting his grip. Your cheeks were warm. You told yourself it was because of the struggle.

He didn't lie to himself like you did. He never had. He captured both your wrists and pinned them against the counter, backing off slightly to lean down to your eye-level. "We're going to try this again, princess. Is it true that you didn't do it for me?"

You fought against his grasp, and were deeply embarrassed when, even after losing so much blood, he was still stronger than you. You hardly budged. You looked into his eyes sharply, your breath coming in ragged gasps after the exertion. "I'm not going to tel--"

He leaned in suddenly and captured your lips. You let out a cry of indignation but he only leaned further into it, deepening the kiss. And before you realized what you were doing, you were closing your eyes and kissing him back. And... it felt good. And you hated yourself for it.

He pulled away, and you felt your neck and cheeks burning with the most intense flush you'd ever had. He smirked, because he knew exactly what was going through your mind.

Except... he underestimated just how intensely your heart was racing, how much you wanted that again, how much his kiss sent your mind reeling. It only made your blush deepen when you realized how genuinely you wanted it again.

"Did you do it for me?"

Your jaw trembled as you opened your mouth to reply. "I hate you," you said, your voice choked and quiet.

He chuckled as he leaned in again, his lips brushing yours as he said, "No, you don't, princess," and he leaned in again, his mouth claiming yours. And you, despite all your instincts, let him.