SERGIO'S POV

Emma stood right in front of me, dressed in a knee-length floral gown, her deep brown eyes were full of secrets. Her hair was loosely tied in a ponytail, she was an angel—a beautiful little angel. She removed her black leather jacket, stuffed it in the cabinet, and wore her apron.

"Please have a seat, Sir." She spoke, her voice tinged with courtesy and politeness. She approached the counter and smiled at me as she began grinding the coffee beans. I reclined on a sofa and stared at her as if she were the only sight worth seeing in the world.

She offered me a cup of black coffee and sat across from me in a chair.

I was staring at her, intrigued, and the way she was involuntarily nibbling her lips was driving me wild. I was already uncomfortable and sexually frustrated by the mere sight of her.

"Mio Angelo, stop biting your lips."

"Oh! I'm sorry, Sir. It happens reflexively whenever I'm nervous." She admitted as she lowered her gaze. She was constantly fidgeting with her hands and scratching her ear. She appeared apprehensive in my presence, and I was delighted that she was intimidated by me.

"So, why do you work at this modest chocolate factory? I mean, you're wealthy, and you don't need to work part-time." As I took a sip of the exquisite coffee, I inquired.

"No, I am not wealthy. My father was wealthy. I'm just a medical student striving to become a doctor someday. I just want to earn money on my own, even if it's from a part-time job, and by the way, I love making chocolates. It makes me happy to distribute sweetness." Her gorgeous brown eyes glowed with sincerity and candor, and her response took me by surprise. She was so kind. So innocent.

"Were you snooping on me?" She inquired, her eyes wide with curiosity.

"No. I mean, William told me about you and your family." I replied, and I'm not sure why, but I was a little reluctant. I mean, I wanted to learn more about this tangled mystery, so I did what I should have done. She flashed me a feeble grin and lowered her gaze. She was broken—completely broken—and she was disguising those broken bits with a beautiful grin on her face.

"I'm sorry about your family," I expressed my genuine condolences.

"It's fine. I don't know what to say." She smiled and looked me in the eyes, and we exchanged warm glances for a few seconds. I blinked my eyes and averted my gaze from her. All I wanted to do right now was make her mine completely. I was being allured to her innocence, which obviously won't outlast once she is mine. Her innocence was gradually enticing me, and I don't want to be enchanted.

"Do you always put on this dapper attire? Black tuxedo and tie. You look like you just stepped out of a Vogue photoshoot." She laughed at her own words as she blurted them out. I didn't laugh; instead, I gave her a serious look, and she immediately lowered her gaze in nervousness. She is naturally submissive. I'd love to dominate her. I'd love to have control over her and teach her how to use her mouth in ways other than blabbering.

"Emma?"

She raised her head and looked me in the eyes. So innocent. So kind. So full of life. I want to screw her ruthlessly and break her—totally and thoroughly till her soul is ripped to shreds. I want to kill her.

"Sir, what was it you wanted to talk about?" She questioned, snapping me out of my spell of intensive cognition.

"Dove bars. I loved it. How did you get so trained to make something so delicious?" I inquired, intrigued.

"Thank you, Sir, but I thought you didn't like sugar, sweetness, or chocolates," she said with a smile on her face.

I stood up from the sofa and approached her, my hands on the arms of the chair; she seemed a little uncomfortable, and I could feel her heartbeat hammering against her chest. She nipped her lower lip reflexively, and it took all of my strength not to kiss the life out of her. "How did you make them? It wasn't just because of the sugar, sweetness, or chocolate. It was something else, much more than the sweetness. What exactly was it, Mio Angelo?"

"It was made with love," she said with a gorgeous grin that left me dumbfounded. "It's alright, Sir. I can give you more, but you must pay for them this time," my attention was drawn to the scar on her right arm as she stood up from her chair and turned toward the counter.

"How did you get this scar?" I inquired, motioning to her right forearm.

She turned to face me, looking at her arm, and said, "I don't know much about it, but my grandmother told me that I got this scar from an accident when I was seven years old."

This scar seems to be a little different; it appears that she has been shot. I was completely lost in my spell of musings when I noticed Andrew walking into the factory, looking for me; he was puzzled and in a bit of a rush.

"Andrew, what exactly are you doing here?" I asked him.

"Who is he?" Emma inquired, puzzled.

"He is my younger brother, Andrew" I answered.

"Ciao, Bellissima." (Hello, Beautiful.) Emma and Andrew exchanged handshakes. Emma looked perplexed because she didn't understand what Andrew was saying, but she still smiled.

"You got pretty eyes." Emma complimented Andrew.

Andrew grinned at the compliment, "Grazie." (Thank you.)

"Sergio, we've found Dad, and we need to get going," Andrew muttered into my ear.

"Sir, wait." I was about to leave the factory when Emma motioned for me to stop. She turned to the counter and handed me a box of Dove Bars. I kissed her cheek tenderly, and she blushed.

I'm not sure why I kissed her.

"See you later, Mio Angelo," I said as I walked out of the factory with Andrew.

"Sergio, we tracked the phone's location. The call was made from an old warehouse on the outskirts of town. It's a remote location, and I'm sure they held our father captive there." Andrew stated.

"These morons have ruined everything. They have no idea that they are about to die. Andrew, how long will it take to get there?" I inquired.

"We'll be there in about a half-hour. What is in that box?" Andrew asked, motioning toward the box of Dove Bars in my hand.

"It's called Dove Bars; do you want to try one?" I asked him as I offered him the bars. Andrew took a bite of the chocolate bar and moaned, "Oh, my God! It's delicious. As far as I recall, you have always disliked sweetness, sugar, and chocolates but now you appear to be a big fan of these Dove Bars. Did that beautiful factory girl make these lip-smacking dove bars?" He inquired with his gaze fixed on mine.

"She did make them. I'm not sure why, but I feel calm when I consume these dove bars. I love it. I know it's strange for me to suddenly love something I've disliked my entire life but it is what it is."

"Do you have a thing for that factory girl?" Andrew inquired.

"No, you know me very well, Andrew. I don't feel things," I responded by averting my sight away from him and looking out the window.

The car came to a screeching halt as it stopped at a remote location. "This is the warehouse; we must be extremely cautious. They should be unaware of the fact that we are here." Andrew stated. I got out of the car and pulled the gun from my suit jacket, and installed the silencer before Andrew and I started walking toward the warehouse. I urged Andrew to enter through the back gates while I proceeded to the front. I observed a man guarding the front door, so I approached him with caution, tightly placed my palm on his lips to keep him from yelling, and snapped his hyoid bone with a tight grip on his neck, and he died on the spot.

I hid in a corner as the other bodyguard became suspicious and approached me. He came to stand right in front of me with his back facing me, I slowly covered his mouth and whacked off his neck with my favorite bollock dagger. I took a step closer to the main compound where I noticed a man with a shotgun strolling back and forth, guarding the main compound. I took a few steps toward him and shot him in the head. I was about to walk inside the main compound when a loud gunshot reverberated through the entire warehouse.

"Are you all right, Sergio?" Andrew queried as he rushed up to me.

"I'm fine, but I heard a gunshot."

I kicked the door open and went inside to find my father, who was badly injured and holding a gun. In the room, I discovered a slew of the dead. It was my father who was firing and killing these motherfucking bastards. Andrew rushed up to Dad and hugged him tightly. He was my father's favorite son, and I was never envious of him. My relationships with my father were both unpleasant and pleasant, but usually unpleasant.

"We need to leave right now," my father told us, his voice was commanding.

"But Father we need to kill Michael and his son. They have no right to live after holding you captive for over three months." I responded, my jaw and fist clenched in rage.

"This is all messed up, we don't have time for all this now, we have to leave soon for Italy. I'll tell you everything when we return to Italy." My father said, his voice was stern. "I have gathered a lot of information while I was imprisoned. For now, let's get going."

"Andrew, Antonio is waiting for you outside. Take the private jet and fly to Italy right away; I have some work here and will see you soon. I'll get back to you as soon as I can."

As soon as they were gone, I drove back to my house and rushed to my room, and dialed Marcello's number. Marcello is my consigliere and an undercover detective.

"Hello, Brother, what's up?" Marcello spoke.

"I'm fine Marcello, I'd like you to give me all the information that you have on Michael Harrison and his second in command."

"Okay, wait a minute. My father may have gathered some information about the American mafia; let me check, it should be here. Yeah, It's right here." Marcello spoke.

"All right, tell me about it."

"Richard Brown was the second in command of the American mafia. He was the most powerful man even more than Michael Harrison was. About 14 years ago, he died in a car accident. It is also believed that his wife Olivia Brown also died in that accident while being pregnant with their second child. His daughter was the only one who survived the accident." Marcello spoke.

"What is his daughter's name?" I inquired.

"Emma Brown."

"What?"

"What happened, Sergio? Are you there?"

"Nothing. Yes, I'll call you later."

"Okay, take care."

By pressing the red button, I hung up the phone.

Rage and ferocity rose in my veins when I heard the name Emma Brown, daughter of Richard Brown. Now I wonder, why was she being so nice to me? She is the daughter of Richard Brown. She belongs to the American mafia. I grabbed my car keys from the table and drove straight to the factory.

She was securing the factory with a lock. I threw the box of dove bars she had given me this morning, and it landed on her right leg, causing her to scream in terror.