ANDREW'S POV

I was in the bar with a slew of Russians who, I believe, knew something about that bastard. It's been three months since my father went missing. Sergio and I were convinced that he had been kidnapped by the leader of the American mafia. Sergio's father, Lorenzo Fiorentino, was both loving and vicious; he adopted me when I was five, gave me everything, and even made me a part of his own family. Sergio's family never treated me like an outsider. I owe them my life and will do anything to protect my family. I was lost in my thoughts when I saw Sergio entering the bar. He looked very angry. "Andrew, did you find them?" He questioned, his voice was stern and austere.

"No, but we have few Russian people here, and I doubt they knew something about that bastard."

"Where is my father? What do you know about the American mafia, and where the hell is Michael Harrison?" Sergio glared at the Russians who were on their knees with their heads bowed. The titanium chains shackled their hands behind their backs.

"Andrew, call Antonio." He yelled angrily. "I don't think they speak English."

I called Antonio right away. Antonio was half Russian and half Italian, thus he spoke Russian decently well. Antonio was a polyglot, fluent in Italian, Russian, French, and English. He is a professionally trained pilot who works for Sergio and has vowed his loyalty to him. Antonio appeared and stood in front of Sergio after a few minutes.

"I need you to translate our conversation," Sergio said.

"Sì, capo." (Yes, boss.)

"Ask them where the hell Michael Harrison is, and where he has been holding my father captive?" Sergio spoke out, his tone harsh and tinged with resentment.

Antonio nodded and switched his focus to the Russians. He translated Sergio's questions into Russian, which was gibberish to us. The Russians responded, and I turned my sight to Sergio, who was staring expectantly at the Russians, ready to kill them at any given moment.

"They are saying, they know nothing about Michael Harrison. He just contacted them for some strippers that Michael needed immediately. He has a son, who is not much involved in his father's business, but they communicated with him in the morning. He'll be coming to meet them in the bar tonight so he can interact with them," Antonio said, returning his gaze to Sergio. Sergio scowled and walked over to the Russians, asking, "do you belong to the Bratva gang?" Sergio's question caught me completely off guard. He took the gun from his jacket and shot all the Russians, who died on the spot.

"I despise liars; they were members of the Bratva gang that dealt in extortion and sex trafficking." Sergio had a grimace on his face as he spoke.

"How did you know that they belong to the Bratva gang?" I inquired, perplexed.

Sergio gave me a malicious smirk. "I can tell when people are lying to me," Sergio said before exiting the bar.

SERGIO'S POV

I left the bar and intended to go to my estate in Manhattan, but I changed my mind and opted to stay in Queens at my mother's mansion. This mansion was purchased by my father and was a blessing to my mother. My mother is an American, Emily Bleeth Fiorentino. She was one of the prestigious professional assassins before she married my father. She alongside my father slaughtered a gathering of Russian mobsters who executed her entire family. The two of them fell head over heels through this entire murdering process.

I was about to step out of the car when I noticed the box Emma had given me. I took the box with me and walked inside the mansion. I kept the box on the kitchen shelf, and hurried upstairs to my room, took a quick shower, and dressed in a black tuxedo suit. I dashed downstairs into the kitchen, brewed myself a cup of black coffee, and began sipping it while going through a stack of documents. Out of the blue, I opened the box that Emma gave me and took a piece of a chocolate bar. I was astounded as I took a bite because it was perfect, exactly like Emma. I haven't tasted anything as delicious as this chocolate bar; I read the box where it was composed, 'Dove Bars.' I've physically been with a lot of women in my day to day life, and they were all pleasing and alluring in their specific way, but Emma, she resembled a power, I'm not sure what sort of power, but a power that has the ability to liquefy the glaciers, the glow and innocence she held in her eyes were enough to mend the messed up. I was immersed in Emma's thoughts when I heard my phone ring and was abruptly jerked back to reality.

I put the phone on speaker.

"Hello, Andrew. Any information on Michael?"

"Yes, Sergio. Mike Harrison is Michael's son. He's not going to be at the bar tonight. We received his voicemail, which was forwarded to one of the Russians. I'm tracking his phone number, and I'm confident we'll figure out where the call came from." Andrew responded.

"Well done, Andrew. I am proud of you."

"Thanks! Where are you, Sergio?"

"I am in Queens at Mom's mansion. I'll see you tonight. Don't be late, we got a lot to discuss."

"Oh! Thank goodness you reminded me since I was about to leave for my Bronx mansion. Anyway, I'll see you later," Andrew said.

I hung up the phone and put it aside. I reached for the Dove Bars box, only to realize I'd already devoured it all. Oh, my God! Emma, what are you? What are you doing to me?

EMMA'S POV

I was putting a lock on the factory when I sensed someone standing right behind me. I felt a bit scared but I still managed to remain calm. I gradually pulled the pepper spray from my bag. I pivoted and showered it immediately onto the man standing behind me. The man screamed in misery. "Who the hell are you?" I inquired, angrily. The man was continuously scouring his eyes, and I couldn't see his face unmistakably.

"It's me, Mike." The man groaned in pain.

"Oh, my God! Mike. I'm so sorry." I held his hand as I opened the factory door and led him inside. I sat him on the couch and took a seat beside him. I sprayed some water into his eyes. "Try to open your eyes." I drew in closer to him and blew a puff of air into his eyes. His eyes were swollen and red, and I felt sorry for him. Mike stared at me without flinching, slowly bringing his face close to mine, and I felt a little strange about him being so close to me. He tucked my hair behind my ear, "Emma, you are beautiful. I love you. I've always loved you since we were kids." He said, leaving me in a complete state of hysteria. This is what I was terrified of, and it's exactly what's unfolding.

"Please don't say anything, Mike," I pleaded as I stood up from the couch and averted my sight from him.

"But you should know about it," Mike got up from the couch and walked right up to me. His blue eyes, filled with ambiguous emotions, met mine.

"It's too late, Mike. I don't want to know anything." I said, diverting my gaze from him once more.

"Emma, Please! Listen to me once. Give me a chance to explain." He begged. I stared him in the eyes with uncertainty and aggravation that had been bothering me since I was seven years old and that I couldn't keep back any longer.

"I'm sorry, Mike, but you left me when I needed you the most. You deserted me when my parents died, and you never tried to contact me again. Then, after all these years, you appear out of nowhere, confessing your love for me. You were my best friend, and I adored you but the damage had already been done and you were the one responsible for it." As I spoke, tears welled up in my eyes and my vision became blurred.

"I'm sorry, Emma. I know I made a mistake by not being there for you, but believe me when I say that I still feel the same way and have never fallen out of love with you." He said as he wiped away my tears.

"Mike, you should be recognized for your outstanding acting abilities. I used to admire you, but I no longer do," I answered, my gaze glued to his. He drew me closer to him. "Tell me what else I can do to make you believe I love you and will never leave you again." He said this while staring intently into my eyes. His ocean blue eyes darkened somewhat, and I instinctively lowered my sight, thinking about all the traumas I had faced alone.

Like a raging river, tears streamed from my eyes. I pushed him away from me and smacked him hard across the face. "I waited for you, Mike, but you never showed up, and now I don't care if you're here. I don't expect anything from you, and it's best if you realize this as soon as possible. I've been suffering for years, and you have no idea what I've been through. It killed me every day and night and I didn't even have my best friend with whom I could share my sorrows. The damage has been done and there is nothing you can do to make it right."

Mike approached me and grabbed my waist roughly; I tried to push him away, but his grip on my waist was too strong. He tried to kiss me on the lips, but I somehow mustered the courage to push him away. "Wait, what are you doing?" I wiped my tears away and motioned for him to leave the factory. "Emma?" He said, but I cut him off by lifting my hand, wanting to tell him to stop right away and not say anything else since I guess that's enough for today.

"Leave." I motioned toward the door and he left. I pulled my phone out of my bag and booked the cab. I sat on the couch and inclined my chest forward, while my elbows lay on the table. I covered my eyes with my palm and sobbed. I recalled what just happened a few minutes ago, he tried to impose himself upon me. I was making a decent attempt to conceal my sentiments and anguish, yet it exploded when I least anticipated. I was trying to be strong in front of him since morning to show him that I don't fucking care. I made a fair effort to act rationally and unconcerned but I failed. I tried to put myself together and stood up from the couch and strolled toward the doorway. I turned off the lights and secured the factory with a lock. My cab was already waiting outside the factory. I sat inside the cab and scrolled over my phone, taking a gander at some old pictures of me with my family. "Mom, Dad, I miss you so much," I murmured, wiping the tears from my eyes. Following a couple of moments, the vehicle came to a screeching halt. I paid the cab driver and strolled toward my house.

I greeted my grandparents and straightaway went into my room. I took a quick shower and wore my casuals to bed. I was tired of making chocolates the whole day and all I need was to calm my mind at the moment. My grandmother came inside knocking on my door, "Emma, are you okay?"

"Yes, Grandma. I am good," I assured her with a smile.

"How is Mike?" She inquired. My psyche replayed the flashback and I tried to conceal my frustration behind my grin. I don't want my grandmother to get worried about me. She has consistently been similar to a friend to me. She merely wants me to date some guy so I can feel fulfilled by his love, yet I don't think anyone in this world would want to date a girl like me who is so wrecked with her own life. It's self-evident that no one wants to date a girl who is overly paranoid. I'm not calling myself paranoid, everyone else does. I was lost in thoughts when my grandmother grabbed my hand and startled me out of my trance and back into reality. I sighed as I glanced into her beautiful blue eyes and spoke, "grandma, please do not come up with the relationship and marriage topics."

"Honey, you're twenty-one and you don't even have a boyfriend; you should give Mike a chance; he's good-looking, charming, and he likes you." She said, caressing my face. I felt baffled hearing Mike's name yet I attempted to conceal my disappointment behind my brilliant smile because that's what I do, I would prefer not to trouble anybody because of me.

"Please, grandma. I'm exhausted; can we talk about all of this another time?"

"As you wish, Emma. Good night," she said as she kissed my brow.

"Good night, grandma."