The Hitman's Seduction Read online

  The Hitman's Seduction

  Enemies to lover's romance

  Dakota Knight

  Dakota Knight Books Inc.

  Copyright © [2023 by [Dakota Knight]

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  Contents

  1. Ferro

  2. Angela

  3. Off Limit

  4. The Offer

  5. The Party

  6. Tables Turn

  7. Reality Check

  8. Distractions

  9. Allured

  10. Spiraling Out

  11. The Conspiracy

  12. Targeted

  13. Survival

  Chapter one

  Ferro

  The Job

  I wake up from a dreamless sleep as usual, but there’s something unique about this awakening that is different. It’s not about the fact that I woke up. It’s the fact that I was awoken.

  This is where my gift comes in. As soon as I poem my eyes, I am completely aware of my surroundings, almost like I never slept in the first place. This complete awareness makes it feel like I never slept, so I end up feeling like hopping back into bed the minute I step out. It's a curse most of those days, but at this ungodly hour, where I'm just barely able to evade the strike of an attacker and roll over the bed, I consider it a blessing. The average person would have turned this place into a crime scene in split seconds.

  I’m no ordinary person.

  I don't even bother to hop on my feet before I deal with the assassin. After having this happen to me at least twice every quarter year, there's practically a weapon within every reach, but within specific places that only I would have the knowledge of drawing ever so quickly. The gunshot, along with the spray of blood, is instant, relieving…and irritating.

  To clean this mess would cost at least a hundred grand. I know it sounds minuscule for a billionaire, but twice every quarter brings the total to eight hundred thousand. Almost a million dollars on completely unnecessary endeavors like this.

  True, I could just report the incident to the police, but that would be me digging downwards into an already dug grave for myself. I don't want them to investigate the perpetrators of these assassination attempts that would eventually come back to me and why they want to kill me in the first place. Frankly speaking, being free, as long as I'm able to anticipate and counter the attacks, is much better than being in jail, rotting away, when there's so much I could do with the money I have now.

  As long as Giuseppe Ricci sits as the head of the Ricci household, my life is under threat, so I just have to wait for him to die or step off. The average lifespan of any man in that kind of trade is nothing more than the mid-ages, anyway, so if I can live past that, I should be safe.

  Living takes one step at a time, and that is exactly what I do. Calmly, with the corpse still sprawled on my beautiful king-sized bed, which I would now have to replace, adding up to the cost of things that I spend on this desperate endeavor of staying alive, I waltz into the bathroom to prepare myself for the corporate world. As much as I'd hate to admit it, my life is not as fun now as it was then…and neither are the women; crazy, risk-taking women that have this beautiful air of danger lingering around them, just how I like it, do not exist in the real world and it's something I'm having difficulty adjusting to, but it’s a life my father would have wanted me to live, instead of taking over him as the highest ranked assassin.

  "Alan?" I speak to the receiver while I put on the finishing touches to my dressing.

  "Mr. Russo." He greets back. If he were here with me, he'd do it with a nod just a little lower than casual greetings.

  "Cleaning again. Male, probably six feet. Bulky, so...would take up a lotta space. Bring a big wrap. It's messy too. Really messy." I brief him.

  "I'll get my boys to do it before you get home from work." He responds.

  "You sure they can handle it?" The cufflinks snap into place, and my three-piece suit looks as good as I want it to be.

  "Jill and Travis. You've known them since they were recruited. It's been four years now."

  I grunt in understanding. "Tell them to be quick in case the cops come over. I already told them I work with mechanical tools, so that should explain the occasional loud noises, but I think they're catching on to the fact that a billionaire has very little to do with a power toolbox...at least, to mistakenly drop it every now and then...sometimes twice in one night."

  "They'll be at your door before you leave your driveway... although that depends on when you'll be leaving."

  "Thirty minutes max."

  "Just after you leave your driveway, then. They'll give the house a makeover too, as a complementary for the extra grand you'll give them." I can just imagine the sheepish smile on his face as he says that.

  Greedy goblin.

  "I'll give that grand to Pauline myself this weekend at her birthday party." I chuckled. His daughter is younger, the complete opposite of her father's grotesqueness. The beautiful nine-year-old and her baby brother developed a fondness for me after their father was once taken into custody by Federal agents who rightfully suspected his cleaning company of terrorist-related activities.

  While they were right about the fact that Alan was involved in the disposal of evidence and altering it in some cases, they guessed incorrectly who he was selling the services to and ended up closing the case due to lack of evidence. His wife had science passed away from leukemia, and Alan trusted no one but me to be with the children through the entire process. It was here that I had to put my father's skills to the test...and I didn't perform too shabbily. The love of Pauline and Braun is an attestation to that.

  "Ah, well...in that case, you'll end up with a regular messy house, and for that reason why, I can't object. The kids would be overjoyed to see you. Now, fuck off. I've got work to do." He shoos me and hangs up immediately after.

  His way of being down to earth is relieving.

  I leave behind the mess and make my way through the messy house to the garage, leaving a five-hundred-dollar wad with a note to clean the house on it. Alan was right. My house needs a makeover. Travis and Jill would do it for much less, even, but I'm a generous man.

  The choice of what car to drive isn't a difficult one, made simple by the fact that I pick my Mercedes Maybach every time. If I made it a point to try and choose, I'd probably end up walking to work due to indecision. There are just so many.

  With Hannah probably already waiting for me in the office, today, just as every other, shouldn't suck much.

  Chapter two

  Angela

  The Catch

  I stare at the window relentlessly. From my study and determined investigation, I know that he comes here for lunch every now and then. It's not consistent, I know, but that's probably to distract whoever might be tailing him from understanding his schedule. I know the works of criminals like this. I'm also sure there's no one he can trust, hence the reason he comes here himself to collect the meal. La Belle Langue does offer some of the best steaks in this area…at the small price of just two hundred bucks for whatever basic meal plan you're getting, with the option to beef it up further. Privatization and its rip-offs can't get any more fascinating.

  Sure enough, after my third day of waiting for him, the criminal shows up. I know from the black Mercedes Maybach with the license plate “MY-BACH," which is a cool way to assert ownership of a vehicle, I must admit. When he steps off the car, I let out an exhale.

  My breath wasn’t taken away. I let it out.

  The man is sturdy, and screams influence, power, class, and elegance, but that is just looking. Beyond that demonically handsome face and beast-mode body that has a surprisingly seductive fit in a three-piece suit lies a cold-blooded killer…and he needs to be brought down along with the rest of his cohorts.

  He saunters into the restaurant and is given a sycophantic welcome by waiters and ushers looking for the healthy tip that would come out of his pocket later on, after the meal. He then proceeds to wordlessly make his order at the counter…a gesture that no one here does. The vast majority of them usually just sit and wait, but I'm guessing his paranoia won't let him sit in the oblivion of what is being put in his food. When that is done, and his food is ready, surprisingly, within minutes, he has a waitress carry it and lead the way to his table. After a futile pass at his attention, the waitress, who is really blessed with curves enough to make me wonder why she isn't a model or some sort of influencer, leaves on dismissal, promising to come back and check on him.

  The unnecessary things these people do.

  As soon as I sense the coast is clear enough, I make my way hastily to his table and sit on the chair opposite his.

  "Good afternoon, Mr. Russo." I greet him. Instead of answering me immediately, he takes more healthy bites out of his steak. "I'm sorry to interrupt you at this time, but I'm sure you have a moment or two to spare."

  "No." He grunts and takes a fork full of spiced rice serving on the side that makes my throat bob. There's no way I'm spending two hundred-plus dollars on a meal, though. That's enough to take me through the week, and I consider myself a heavy food spender.

  “I’m afraid it’s really important.” I insist.

  “If it was, you’d have come to talk since the…” he pulls out his phone briefly to check something out “…ah, that’s about it. Since the twenty-seventh of March.
”

  Oh. He’s known all along.

  “Well, let’s just say the urgency increased.”

  “It’ll wait until I’m done with my meal." He finalized that chapter and got back to eating. I don't even bother talking again because I know nothing I say would be of any consequence. Men like this keep to their word more than anything. That's the kind of training the Mafia gives you. Premium character but has the wrong motivation. I can’t change that about him, but I can make sure he’s in a position not to hurt any other person.

  Jail

  He takes his precious time, and I'm left to just try my best not to look at him until he's through, making it the most awkward twenty minutes of my life, which feels like an eternity.

  He cleans off his mouth, takes in the full glass of water, and then focuses his mesmerizing green eyes on me. "Speak."

  Let's see how much authority he has once he's confronted with the possibility of being incarcerated for life.

  "Let's start with the basics. I'm Angela Braun." I stretch out my hands to shake his, trying to maintain as much professionalism as possible. He takes it briefly, but his grip is firm and confident. Nice?

  “I assume three months of monitoring gets you way more than my name.”

  He's right. I have a lot of information about him.

  “I hope it doesn’t bother you so much.” I try to make him relax about the whole stalking thing. This could be a lawsuit against me if he’s smart with it.

  “Oh, no. You're not my biggest threat. A private investigator, looking for death about maybe my company or something, looking for any form of irregularities in my file to either send me to jail or my company down the mud is another Thursday. I'd have preferred you stayed away and kept doing as much gathering as you could." He almost slurs like he's bored with this kind of conversation.

  If he got all that from just mere detection of my presence all this while, then I have a lot more on my hands than I estimated. I knew he was smart. Just…not this smart.

  "Well, I would have kept to that, but I just thought of offering you a proposition." I smile coyly to keep an unaffected façade and hide my surprise.

  "I don't accept." He says bluntly without even hearing what I have to say. I go on, nonetheless.

  "I would exclude you from my prosecution if you tell me all you know about the Ricci family," I say. His jaw immediately tightens, and I know that I've struck gold.

  “However you know about the Ricci family, I advise you to un-know it as soon as you can. There's too much there for you to handle, you frail little thing." He coos sarcastically, but there's this glint in his eye that assures me that I'm on the right path. Just as I open my mouth for another statement, my phone buzzes, and I take it out to see my Boss calling me. The time at the top left of my phone's display shows me that I'm more than ten minutes late for our meeting.

  Shit

  I immediately stand up and straighten my pants. “I suppose we’ll have to continue this conversation later.” I nod to him. He relaxes in the chair and says lazily;

  “I hope not. You seem exhausting.” He gives another one of those smiles I know has hidden under it, every dark intent possible.

  “You have no idea.” I turn and make my move out of the store. It’ll be hard to get him here again. Knowing him, he’s going to more than just randomize his routine, but I must make it to his and his archives of the family that killed my father.

  Chapter three

  Off Limit

  Ferro's Encounter

  As I watch her leave the restaurant, I can't help to think to myself, what a beautiful woman this is. A fine specimen of the female human species, one might say. Sexy. Tall…smart. But I don’t want to see her again. No one would bring me into the life I have left behind for nearly a decade. Not even the smart beauty. I shake my head and chuckle to myself when I realize that I have been staring at her rear the entire time, watching them jiggle deliciously in the stretchy office pants they wore.

  The problem with encounters like this is the fact that it just makes me thirsty. I head back to the office when my detail gives me the go-ahead, noting that there are no threats on the road that we should be too concerned about save for one of the men that were armed. He was taken down when the lawyer and I were in conversation.

  In the office, I’m given the same respect as I would have given Giuseppe’s father before his unfortunate demise by my hands, which should explain why I hate it so much. I nod to the head of the security department and give one of the guys with him a crass snare when he bows a little lower than usual.

  “Permit him, Sir. He’s new here.” Harry pleads on his behalf before proceeding to scold the uninformed young man in a whisper. “We don’t do that here!”

  I enter my office and crash on the chair in front of my computer, which is already running, and the files are still where I left them. The entire paperwork is arranged, and the files that I have already used are cleared into an orderly pile in case I need to revisit them later. There's nothing I'd be able to accomplish if it weren't for Hannah, really.

  “You’re more of a paramedic than a secretary, you know that?” I appraise her as she enters with a file, probably from another department.

  “You give me more credit than I’m worth.” She blushes.

  "It's because I don't pay you enough. I have to compensate." I wink and collect the file from her. We both know that's not true, though. I have the highest pay percentage in the entire Los Angeles, with each of my staff in every department earning at least fifteen percent more than every other organization in the city. It explains why they're so motivated and they respect me more. Motivation is an important part of getting people to do things. The mafia taught me that enough. People in the mafia are motivated by fear and the hope of a better life when eventually, all that awaits you is death. In the civilian world, all you have to do is a little extra motivation, like an extra percentage on salary, with an abundance of praise for whatever work you do. The thought of not having those extras and praises is enough to get them working. I once gave a talk on how I might have to reduce the wages as our sales and requests for services were dipping. The impact this made on work productivity was awesome. They definitely didn’t want to see this God-sent of a company fall, and it benefitted the growth of the company enough to enable me to start the next branch of the conglomerates.

  “Have you had your break?” I ask. She shakes her head. That’s another thing I don’t tolerate. It makes me feel like a slave driver to see my staff overwork themselves.

  "Before you chew me off, that’s exactly what I was going to do after getting you this document from HR." she laughs and leaves my office.

  By nightfall, I was in the opposite part of the fabulous city of LA, in the most exquisite of nightlife, looking for the next fix to help me forget the body of the lawyer I had no idea could affect me so much. It's an easy guess as to how easily an Italian stallion with a Bugatti Chiron would land an escort for the night.

  It took one week for me to finally admit that I'd probably starve off the taste of other food if I didn't go to eat at La Belle Langues. When I do, staidly enough, I see her in the same spot she has always been in for the past three months, just waiting. I face-palm myself at the conversation we are going to have. The same sequence of events happens, but this time, she lets me eat my meal in peace and leaves the restaurant before starting after me.

  Again, I feel enchanted by that smart, perky walk from such a seductive body shape. She is young, which explains her enthusiasm to prove that she can change a lot more than she actually can.

  "Mr. Russo." She calls me as though I'd disappear any second from now if she doesn't stop me.

  “Mrs…" I cue her to remind me of her name.

  “Angela.” She says with the same enthusiasm as the last time. “Miss Angela Braun.”

  Beneath her smile, though, and her seemingly polite gestures, I sense something. Anger, maybe hate.