A Night With The Ruthless Mafia Billionaire

Chapter Four

As I slowly reached for the Swiss knife under the counter, my gaze remained fixed on David's face. I hoped he wouldn't catch on to what I was doing. The shock that had been on my face earlier disappeared, replaced by a mix of irritation, disdain, and hatred.

To be honest, I had plans for what I wanted to do with the knife. But as I felt the cool, silver metal graze my fingertips, all those plans suddenly seemed illogical.

I called her Slicy, and she made me feel safe. Just his intense gaze alone was enough to make me shrink in fear. But having Slicy by my side gave me the courage to stand my ground. She had quickly become my favorite possession, the one thing that made me feel a semblance of safety in these past years.

I had bought Slicy after my parents' death, hoping she would help me send him to where my parents were and maybe even have him say hello to them for me. But now, with him standing before me after years of dreaming about this moment, I realized that I may have underestimated his strength or overestimated Slicy's capabilities. There was no way she could pierce through his thick neck, especially when she was no bigger than his thumb and I looked like a scrawny kid next to him.

"Do you think the weather is nice today?" I blurted out, realizing it was a foolish thing to say, but it just slipped out at that moment.

I wasn't naive enough to believe that I stood a chance against David. Being hostile wouldn't get me the outcome I desired, and if anything, it would only hasten my reunion with my parents. Despite being in my place, I felt completely ambushed. David's towering size gave him the upper hand, and with a snap of his fingers, he could easily overpower me.

David's gaze remained unchanged, cold, and empty. It seemed like he was deliberating on what to do with me. My eyes involuntarily scanned the few customers in the shop and then landed on the CCTV camera tucked in the corner, pointing directly at my workstation.

Even he wouldn't be foolish enough to commit such an act with so many eyes watching.

I quickly realized that seeking oblivion was the only option left, at least while he was still here.

"Would you like a coffee to go?" I offered, my free hand instinctively searching for a paper cup and the necessary items to prepare a coffee. My palms were clammy, my hands trembling. Gripping Slicy tightly, I squeezed hard until my knuckles turned white, disregarding the sharp blade that dug into my skin. I craved it, her, the blood. It was the only thing that made me feel better.

And then, as if finally coming to a decision, David's voice tightened, controlled. "Yes," he said, his tone sharper than the knife digging into my skin.

"Alright, sir. If you could please take a seat over there while I attend to your order," I responded calmly, my voice masking the inner turmoil. With my right hand concealed, I tightened my grip on the knife. The sound of blood trickling down my hand to the floor resonated loudly in my ears alone.

A flicker crossed his expression, barely noticeable if I hadn't been observing him so closely. In that split second, I realized my last statement had struck a nerve. He didn't appreciate being told what to do, and I had unknowingly done just that. Nonetheless, he walked over to an empty table, giving me one final chilling look before taking his seat.

I let out a stifled breath, loosening my grip on Slicy, but still not letting go as I got to work. The faster I prepared his coffee, the quicker he leaves. Using my free, uninjured hand, I made the same coffee he had with his friend earlier, my record speed surprising me.

He strode over to the counter with long, powerful strides after I called out to him.

"That'll be 10 dollars," I said without meeting his eyes, pretending to be busy with another order.

With a chilling look in his eyes, he pulled out a ten-dollar bill and placed it on the tiled surface before grabbing his coffee and heading out.

As soon as he crossed the threshold of the glass doors, the knife slipped from my grasp, clattering loudly as it met the floor. I followed suit, my breath becoming shallow and rapid.

Frantically, my hands rummaged through the pockets of my dress in search of it— my anxiety pills. I preferred to call them "candy" to lighten the weight of their significance. I popped a pill into my mouth, swallowing it dry, and waited for it to take effect.

"Hello, I'd like two cups of cappuccino, please," came a female voice from behind the counter. The counter was low enough for her to see me crouching on the floor, but my back was turned to her. She couldn't see my fidgety hands or hear my shallow breath. Nor could she see the bloodstain on the floor.

"Excuse me, can you hear me?" she asked again, but I couldn't bring myself to face her. Not when the candy hadn't done its job yet.

"Why is no one attending to us? I don't have all day," a masculine voice chimed in this time, brimming with frustration.

My hands trembled, feeling weak, as I tightly intertwined my fingers together. The candy was taking longer than usual to work its magic. I couldn't take another one. Katie had warned me to only take half a day, but I had already taken a whole pill.

A line of frustrated customers had formed behind me, their complaints echoing in different voices, all directed at me. All I wanted was to shut them out, to close my ears, and never have to hear their angry words again.

"I can't do this. I just can't," I whispered to myself, the beads of sweat covering my face as my stomach twisted into knots. My heart thumped loudly in my ears, drowning out the noise around me.

At that moment, it felt like the world was closing in on me. Without thinking, I bolted out of the shop, leaving the angry customers behind. My feet slapped against the hard concrete as I let them carry me wherever they wanted. It felt like I had been running for ages, until suddenly, my exhausted feet gave up on me. I stumbled and fell face-first towards the unforgiving concrete sidewalk.

Except my face never hit the hard surface. I was hanging in the air, my face only inches away from the ground because someone had caught me.

Blue eyes were the first thing that caught my attention. His lips were moving rapidly, but I couldn't hear a word he was saying. I stared at him, my brows furrowed and my mouth hanging open in confusion as I tried to comprehend his words.

Slowly, he helped me back to my feet, his lips still moving, but the sound remained elusive. It seemed like he realized I couldn't hear him, as his lips began to move more slowly, enunciating each word carefully.

And then, the first word reached me. "Are... you... okay?" The subsequent words followed in succession.

I blinked, feeling a bit dazed before nodding in response.

"Are you okay?" he asked again, this time his voice clear and audible.

"Yes," I croaked, my voice raspy. I cleared my throat and repeated, "Yes, I am." Stepping out of his embrace, I realized he was still holding me. His gaze briefly flickered to my bloodied palm before I could conceal it from his sight. "I don't think you are," he remarked.

"I am!" My voice came out harsher than intended. "I mean, I'm fine," I sighed. "Um, thank you," I murmured, turning away from him and retracing my steps.

He called after me, but I didn't respond. I was alright now, my mind clear and the demons that had threatened to consume me had dissipated. Candy had worked its magic once again.

I'd only returned to the coffee shop to find my knife but when I got there and saw a woman trying to rob the safe, I had no choice but to wait until Rita, my employer was back from wherever she went. I flipped the closed sign behind the door, as I had no desire to attend to customers while I waited for her. I was quitting. It was too much for me to handle.

Rita showed up late, past nine o'clock. When I told her I wasn't interested in the job anymore, she asked for my reasons, but I couldn't give her any.

Feeling lost, I left immediately, taking the long route home. I hoped the extra time would help me clear my head and fix my gloomy expression before facing Diana's inevitable questions. Because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to tell her about David Marchetti's sudden appearance, as it would only terrify her further. I was already the reason we were living in a nightmare.

As I turned a corner, everything took a terrifying turn. Suddenly, someone with an alarming forcefulness, covered my nose and mouth with a cloth, leaving me gasping for breath.

“Chloroform,” I realized.

Panic surged through my veins as I desperately fought to break free from their iron grip. Every fiber of my being screamed for liberation, for release from this suffocating hold. Tears streamed down my face, mingling with the sweat of my struggle, as I strained against their overwhelming strength.

The world around me blurred and my senses began to fade, a chilling thought crossed my mind: "This has happened before." The realization sent shivers down my spine, a haunting reminder of past traumas. Yet, even as darkness threatened to envelop me completely, I silently prayed that this time, the suffering wouldn't be as agonizing.