EMMA'S POV

I opened my eyes to see the sun shining magnificently through the window of my room, intent on shattering my corneas. I squeezed my eyes shut and covered them with my palms. I sprawled out on the bed and rolled over to the other side, making myself at ease. It was a whole new day, and I was ecstatic about it. Life can be difficult at times, but each day brings a new chance to start anew. I rubbed my eyes and pulled myself out of bed. I checked my phone and noticed that it was already eight o'clock. "Oh, my God! Emma, you're so going to lose your job today." I rushed toward the bathroom and went for a quick shower and got dressed into a white tank top with denim jeans. I took my phone and handbag from the table and ran downstairs. My grandparents were having a cup of tea with a guy who looked a bit known to me but I was not able to recall. He was charming and handsome, his gaze suddenly met mine, and I deviated mine from him.

"Hey! Good morning, honey." My grandmother spoke as she noticed me.

"Good morning! Why didn't you wake me up earlier, grandma? I'm already late, and William is going to be angry. It's the third time in a week that I've been late. You know how important this job is to me; I need to pay for my college expenses." I blurted out in a single breath but stopped when I noticed my grandfather giving me a disapproving look. My father was wealthy, and when he died, his money and possessions were passed down to me, but I didn't want to live on my father's wealth. I want to be self-sufficient.

"I came into your room, but you were sleeping so peacefully that I didn't want to wake you. You were looking like your mother—calm and beautiful even in your sleep." Grandma spoke softly, melting my anger right away. I like it when someone says that I look like my mother. She is not with me but always within me. I strolled over to the living room and observed the attractive man who was staring at me intently. He was a handsome man with a strong muscular frame and a well-groomed beard. His dark brown hair and blue eyes were perfect.

"This is Mike Harrison," my grandmother said as she motioned toward the guy. "He's the son of your father's best friend, Michael Harrison."

"Yeah, I remembered Mike," I answered after verifying with my polar opposite, who is resident in my mind, and how could I ever forget this man? I snapped out of my spell of intense thinking and stared at him. He has grown more charming in appearance, but his eyes remain the same—deep blue eyes that carry the depths of an ocean. His eyes usually go a shade darker or lighter depending on the emotions he is experiencing. "Hello there, Mike. How are you doing? It's been a while." I extended my hand in greeting for a handshake, a gorgeous smile on my face.

"I'm delighted you remembered." He smiled as he shook my hand.

"How can I possibly forget about you? When we were kids, we used to play together, and you used to help me with my homework and other chores. Well, how are Uncle Michael and Aunt Lisa doing?" I Inquired, intrigued.

"Dad is fine." He managed to speak in his strong British accent, but his voice went raspy and his expressions turned a little forlorn. "Mom died a few years ago as a result of a cardiac arrest." He eventually said it and shook his head, as if attempting to escape out of the emotional labyrinth.

"I'm sorry, Mike," I muttered, stroking his forearm, and he stiffened beneath my touch, so I drew my hand away and avoided my sight from him.

"Emma, it's all right. I've grown accustomed to others consoling me." He replied, but my eyes were not prepared to meet his since something started to hurt. "I forgot I bought you some chocolates. I know you like them a lot." He smiled as he pulled out a small box of chocolate from his pocket. "Thank you so much," I said as I took hold of the box.

"Oh, my God! I'm late for work," I screamed at the top of my lungs, sprinting to the front door.

"Honey, wait for a second." My grandmother said as she came to a standstill in front of me. "Mike will drop you off at your workplace." She stated this while flashing me a weird smile, and I know what this weird smile signifies. I am perfectly aware of my grandmother's intentions.

"Yes, I won't mind," Mike added. "I'd be happy to help you." I gazed at my grandmother, who was widely smiling and then switched my sight to Mike, who was lost staring at my lips. For a brief minute, I assumed I had something on my lips, but then I recalled that he is Mike, and he is exactly who he is—intense, perceptive, and compassionate in his freakish manner. I hesitated for a while before saying yes to him because I knew I'd be late for work today and, to be honest, I didn't have much time to wait for the cab. Mike drove me to the factory in his SUV, and I thanked him with a hug. I felt him sniffing my hair while hugging me, which I don't believe is a good sign. I jumped out of the car and dashed into the factory, where I noticed my boss staring at me furiously.

"Miss Brown, It's the third time in a week that you've been late for work." He made an obvious statement, and I lowered my sight in search of a genuine lie. "So, what's the excuse for today?" He queried, tapping his right foot impatiently on the floor as he awaited my response.

"I'm so sorry, William. I was on my way when I came across a severely wounded dog and took it to a neighboring veterinary hospital." I forced some tears out of my eyes and questioned, "Is there anything greater in this world than humanity? Mr. William, please tell me!" William was on the verge of crying when he spoke. "Okay, Emma, no more emotional blackmailing. You can get back to work now."

"Thank you, William. You are the greatest human being on this planet," I said to which William chuckled. I put on my apron, plugged in my headphones, and started preparing Dove Bars.

SERGIO'S POV

"Business is Business. I ordered you to tear their heads off their shoulders. What's the matter with you all?" I yelled, hitting my fist hard against the concrete wall. "You can't even do the least complex task that I assigned, and yet you have the audacity to stand in front of me. Dimmi, dovrei ucciderti?" (Tell me, should I kill you?)

"Scusa capo, chiediamo pietà," said one of the men. (Sorry boss, we beg for mercy.)

I walked over to the pleading man, laughing diabolically. I drew my 9mm revolver from my suit jacket and slid it smoothly to his left shoulder, then to his heart. "Sono Sergio Fiorentino, e non conosco pietà." I pulled the trigger, and the man died on the spot. (I'm Sergio Fiorentino, and I know no mercy.)

"Fottuti idioti. (Fucking Morons.) This is what happens when you don't obey my fucking orders."

"Get the heck out of my sight and go do your allocated duties," I snarled aggressively.

"Come on, let's go," Andrew said to the bodyguards. I asked Andrew to lease all the bars, clubs, and restaurants owned by the leader of the American mafia. Andrew is my younger brother and second in command of the Italian mafia. My father brought Andrew home when I was six years old. His parents had abandoned him as soon as he was born, and he was homeless and begging for money on the streets of Sicily when my father came across him and chose to adopt him right away.

I walked out of the warehouse and decided to plan and strategize the business myself because it demanded my attention and I needed to deal with a lot of it right now.

I was driving down Melrose Avenue in my Audi when I saw a small chocolate factory named, 'Sugar and Smiles.' I don't know why, but the name brought a meek smile to my face. I was about to turn back to the Avenue when I noticed a beautiful girl through the glass doors of the factory making chocolates. She was in her happiest mood, slowly dancing to the tunes of the music that might be playing in her headphones. She was excellent at multitasking. I stepped out of my car and proceeded toward the factory, which seemed to appear out of nowhere. The tiny bell on the door chimed as I walked inside the factory. She was so engrossed in her world that she didn't notice that someone had entered the factory. I approached the counter where she was working with almonds and chocolate. She got a little chocolate on her cheek. She was no less than an angel. She was too young and adorable. "Pronto, signorina, come si chiama?" (Hello, Miss, what's your name?) I believe she didn't hear me.

I sat in a nearby chair, staring at her incessantly; I'm not sure what drew me to her. She was just a common girl, and she looked a little sloppy at the moment due to the chocolate she had gotten on her cheek which I could lick right now. Her eyes were filled with innocence, which was irritating. I'm not sure why, but I wanted to fuck her hard and torture her to death because the world I rule is devoid of the innocence and kindness that she exuded. She was so fucking blameless and innocent which was rare and I wanted to break her.

"What the hell are you doing?" A man shouted at her. She took off her headphones, scared. "I'm just making chocolates," she replied. Her voice was so soft and gentle—a beautiful melody.

"You are not at all interested in this job that you don't even realize that you have a customer here," he screamed, his voice was stern. She glanced at me innocently, her beautiful brown eyes welling up with tears. She returned her gaze to the man, "I'm sorry, William. I was just doing my job and didn't realize someone was sitting over there. Please, don't fire me. You know I've always been honest about my work and how much I enjoy making chocolates. This job means a lot to me. I need to pay for my college expenses."

William sighed and nodded in response. "Be cautious the next time; this is your final warning." She immediately wiped off her tears and smiled.

"You're a saint in a disguise of a man," she grinned, making me and William chuckle. "Now, attend to the customer. I'll be back shortly," William said as he exited the factory, leaving us alone.

"Sir, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you were here. Can I get you something? I can offer you Belgian waffles and Dove Bars. They are fresh because I prepared them like a few hours ago." I rose from my chair, and she nervously took a step back, scratching her ear. Her lips were a baby pink tint that looked pleasing. I was finding it impossible to resist her instinctive nibbling on her lower lip.

"Posso ordinarti, Mio Angelo?" (Can I order you, Mio Angelo?)

"I'm sorry," she said, a little perplexed as she slipped her finger through her beautiful brown hair. "I didn't understand a word you said."

"Good," I smirked, taking a few steps closer to her. I could tell how she was feeling just by staring at her. Despite her cheerful demeanor, there was something unusual about her. The way she smiles makes me think she's trying to hide an avalanche of anguish and suffering falling down her heart. The way she looks makes me think she is wishing and craving for someone to see her sorrow and suffering, which she was perfectly masking but I could see it nonetheless. Well, I'm pretty good at reading people. I'm not sure why I felt captivated by her. I'd never felt anything like what I'm feeling right now.

"So, Emma Brown!" I glanced at her name tag. "Yes, Sir." She responded with a nod.

"Do you know that you look like an angel?" I inquired, my gaze was drawn to hers with wonder and desire.

"No, Sir. I mean, thank you, Sir." She said, a little perplexed. Her cheeks were radiating a crimson hue. She lowered her gaze in shyness. I want her, but I'm not sure why. I'm not sure if I want to keep her hidden from the rest of the world, protecting her from the worst that life has to offer, or if I just want her to warm my bed.

"May I get you something, Sir?" She inquired once again, her captivating voice soothing my ears.

"No, Mio Angelo!"

"What does Mio Angelo mean, Sir?" She queried, puzzled. The sight of her parted luscious lips was fucking turning me on at an incomprehensible pace, and it was taking every ounce of my strength not to bend her over the table and take her down right then and there.

"It translates to 'my angel' in Italian," I answered, and she immediately lowered her gaze, trying to hide her crimson cheeks, but I could still see them. This girl is a tangled mystery with an exceptional uniqueness that I haven't seen before, and I wanted to unravel her.

"You don't look like an American. I mean, your accent is somewhat diverse." She queried, her gaze locked on me. "Are you new here?"

"Yeah, I'm not an American. I'm from Italy. I'm here for some business." I responded, my gaze fixed on her innocent eyes. She licked and nibbled her lower lip before smiling at me. I diverted my gaze from her and squeezed my eyes shut, as her instinctual nibbling on her lips was getting on my nerves.

"You know I've always wanted to visit Italy, especially Venice once in my lifetime. It is one of the most captivating and culturally significant cities in the world, with its 116 islands, twisting rivers, cobbled courtyards, beautiful architecture, and little back alleyways." She continued to ramble as she returned to the counter and began packing chocolates into a box. She is well-versed in Venice and also speaks non-stop. "I even read Merchant of Venice, hoping for some insight into Venice, but it was a narrative about a merchant named Antonio in Venice who defaults on a massive loan granted by a Jewish moneylender named Shylock and—"

"Yes, I get it." I cut her off right away. "I've already read Merchant of Venice."

"Sir, my apologies. I got carried away with Shakespeare." She murmured this as she lowered her gaze to the floor. She strolled up to me after packing the box and wrapping it in a pink ribbon. "This is for you, Sir."

"What's this?" I inquired, perplexed.

"These are the Dove Bars that I prepared a few hours ago. I kept you waiting for so long, so as an apology, take this for free. I made them with rich dark chocolate that melts quickly on the tongue, giving a thick taste of chocolate instantly." She said, giving me the brightest smile I've ever seen.

"I don't like chocolates. Sugar and sweetness are just not my things."

"Believe me, Sir. You'll love it." She said confidently. I gazed at her beautiful brown eyes which were filled with innocence. I frowned and took the box anyway and walked out of the factory.